Harry Hole Oslo Sequence 10 - Police

on her disappointment by forcing herself to think positively. Of the hot bath she would have when she got back to her flat. Of the bed. Of the coffee early tomorrow. Another day with new possibilities. There was always something new, there had to be.
    She could see the car headlights on Ring 3: life in Oslo incomprehensibly following its inexorable course. The darkness deepening after the clouds had drawn a curtain in front of the moon. She was about to turn when she froze. A noise. A crack. A twig. Here.
    She held her breath and listened. The position she had been allocated was surrounded by dense bushes and trees, well hidden from any of the paths he might choose. But there hadn’t been any twigs on the paths.
    Another crack. Closer this time. Katrine instinctively opened her mouth, as though the blood, which was pounding through her veins, needed more oxygen.
    Katrine reached for the walkie-talkie. But never got that far.
    He must have moved like greased lightning, yet the breath she felt on her neck was quite calm and the whispering voice by her ear unruffled, cheerful almost.
    ‘What’s happening?’
    Katrine turned to him and released her breath in a long hiss. ‘Nothing.’
    Mikael Bellman took her binoculars and studied the house below. ‘Delta has two positions inside the railway line there, don’t they?’
    ‘Yes. How—?’
    ‘I was given a copy of the ops map,’ Bellman said. ‘That’s how I found this observation post. Well hidden, I must say.’ He smacked himself on the forehead. ‘Well I never. Mosquitoes in March.’
    ‘Midges,’ Katrine said.
    ‘Wrong,’ said Mikael Bellman, who was still holding the binoculars to his eyes.
    ‘Well, we’re both right. Midges are similar to mosquitoes, just much smaller.’
    ‘You’re wrong about—’
    ‘Some of them are so small that they don’t suck the blood of humans but other insects. Or their bodily fluids.’ Katrine knew she was babbling out of nervousness, without really knowing why she was nervous. Perhaps because he was the Chief of Police. ‘Of course, insects don’t have—’
    ‘—nothing happening. A car has stopped outside the house. Someone’s getting out and approaching the house.’
    ‘And if a midge . . . What did you say?’
    She took the binoculars from him. Chief of Police or not, this was her post. And he was right. In the light from the street lamps she saw someone who had already walked through the gate and was heading for the front door. He was dressed in red and carrying something she couldn’t identify. Katrine felt her mouth going dry. It was him. It was happening. It was happening now . She grabbed her mobile phone.
    ‘And I don’t break promises lightly,’ Harry said. Staring at the cigarette she had passed back to him. Hoping there was enough for at least one big drag. He was going to need it.
    ‘And which promise is that?’ Rakel’s voice sounded small, helpless. Alone.
    ‘It’s a promise I made to myself . . .’ Harry said, pressing his lips round the filter. Inhaled. Tasted the smoke, the end of the cigarette which for some strange reason has a completely different flavour from the beginning. ‘. . . about never asking you to marry me.’
    In the silence that followed he could hear a gust of wind rustling through the deciduous trees, like an excited, shocked, whispering audience.
    Then came her answer. Like a short walkie-talkie message.
    ‘Repeat.’
    Harry cleared his throat. ‘Rakel, will you marry me?’
    The wind had moved on. And all that remained was silence, calm. Night. In the midst of it, Harry and Rakel.
    ‘Are you pulling my leg?’ She had moved away from him.
    Harry closed his eyes. He was in free fall. ‘I’m not joking.’
    ‘Quite sure?’
    ‘Why would I joke? Do you want this to be a joke?’
    ‘First off, Harry, you have a very bad sense of humour.’
    ‘Agreed.’
    ‘Second, I have Oleg to consider. And you do, too.’
    ‘When I think about us getting married, Oleg is a big plus.’
    ‘Third, even if I had wanted to, getting married has a number of legal implications. My house—’
    ‘I had been thinking of separate estates. I’m damned if I’m going to hand over my fortune to you on a silver platter. I can’t promise much, but I can promise the world’s most pain-free divorce.’
    She chuckled. ‘But we’re getting on well as we are, aren’t we, Harry?’
    ‘Yes, we’ve got everything to lose. And fourth?’
    ‘Fourth, that’s not how you propose,