Harry Hole Oslo Sequence 10 - Police

moving?’
    ‘No, but they can see changes in his EEG, so they’ve started doing neurophysiological examinations.’
    ‘So what?’ Her lips were close to his. ‘Are you frightened of him?’
    ‘I’m not frightened of him but of what he could say. About us.’
    ‘Why would he do anything so stupid? He’s alone and he has nothing to gain by it.’
    ‘Let me put it this way, my love,’ Mikael said, shoving her hand away. ‘The thought that there’s someone out there who can testify that you and I have been working with a dope dealer to further our careers—’
    ‘Listen,’ Isabelle said. ‘All we did was make a careful intervention to prevent market forces ruling. It’s good, tried and tested Socialist Party politics, my dear. We let Asayev have a monopoly on dope, and we arrested all the other drug barons because Asayev’s goods caused fewer ODs. Anything else would have been an unsatisfactory drugs policy.’
    That made Mikael smile. ‘I can hear you’ve been honing your rhetoric on the debating course.’
    ‘Shall we change the topic, darling?’ She slipped her hand around his tie.
    ‘You know how it will be interpreted in a court of law, don’t you? I got the Chief of Police number and you the Councillor job because it looked as if we’d personally cleaned up Oslo’s streets and brought down the death rate. While in reality we let Asayev destroy the evidence, remove his rivals and sell a type of drug that was four times as potent and addictive as heroin.’
    ‘Mmm, you make me so hot when you talk like that . . .’ She pulled him close. Her tongue was in his mouth, and he could hear the crackle of her stockings as she rubbed her thigh against his. She towed him after her as she backed unsteadily to the desk.
    ‘If he wakes up in the hospital and starts blabbing—’
    ‘Stop it. I didn’t get you here for a chit-chat.’ Her fingers were working on his belt.
    ‘We’ve got a problem we have to solve, Isabelle.’
    ‘I know, but now you’re Chief of Police you’re in the prioritisation business, my love. And right now your City Hall prioritises this .’
    Mikael parried her hand.
    She sighed. ‘Fine. Let me hear. What have you got planned?’
    ‘He has to feel threatened. In a credible way.’
    ‘Why threaten him? Why not just kill him now?’
    Mikael laughed. Right up to the moment he realised she was serious.
    ‘Because . . .’ Mikael held her eyes, his voice firm. Trying to be the same masterful Mikael Bellman who, half an hour ago, had stood in front of the assembled detectives. Trying to come up with an answer. But she was quicker on her feet.
    ‘Because you don’t dare. Shall we see if we can find someone under “Active Euthanasia” in the Yellow Pages? You remove the police guard, misuse of resources blah blah blah, and afterwards the patient receives an unexpected visit from the Yellow Pages. Unexpected as far as he’s concerned, that is. Or, no, as a matter of fact, you could send your shadow. Beavis. Truls Berntsen. He’ll do anything for money, won’t he?’
    Mikael shook his head in disbelief. ‘First of all, it was the head of Crime Squad, Gunnar Hagen, who ordered the twenty-four-hour police supervision. If the patient was killed after I’d overruled Hagen, that would make me look bad, if I can put it like that. Secondly, we’re not going to murder anyone.’
    ‘Listen, darling, no politician is better than her adviser. That’s why the basic premise for getting to the top is you always surround yourself with people who are smarter than you are. And I’m beginning to doubt that you’re smarter than me, Mikael. First off, you can’t even catch this police killer. And now you don’t know how to solve a simple problem of a man in a coma. So when you don’t want to fuck me either, I have to ask myself: “What am I going to do with him?” Answer me that, please.’
    ‘Isabelle . . .’
    ‘I’ll take that as a no. So, listen to me. This is how we’re going to play it . . .’
    He had to admire her. Her controlled, cool professionalism, yet her risk-embracing unpredictability, which made her colleagues sit a little further back on their chairs. Some saw her as a ticking bomb, but they hadn’t realised that creating uncertainty was a feature of Isabelle Skøyen’s game. She was the type to soar further and higher than anyone else, and in a shorter time. And – if she fell – to plummet to a nasty end. It wasn’t that Mikael Bellman didn’t