Harry Hole Oslo Sequence 10 - Police

constant, loyal and reliable.
    He leaned over to the bedside table and grabbed the toilet roll. Cleaned himself up and found the remote control for the DVD player. Pointed it at Megan, who quivered in the freeze-frame on the fifty-inch flat-screen TV, a Pioneer in the series they had to stop making because it was too expensive, too good for the price they commanded. Truls had got the last one, bought with money he had earned by burning evidence against a pilot who had been smuggling heroin for Asayev. Taking the rest of the money to the bank and putting it straight into his account had been idiocy of course. Asayev had been dangerous for Truls. And when Truls had heard Asayev was dead his first thought was that now he was free. The slate had been wiped clean, no one could get him.
    Megan Fox’s green eyes glinted at him. Emerald green.
    It had been on his mind for a while that he should buy emeralds for her. Ulla dressed in green. Like the green sweater she took off when she was on the sofa reading. He had even dropped by a jeweller’s. The owner had quickly sized Truls up, estimated the carat and value and then explained to him that emeralds of the finest water were even more expensive than diamonds, perhaps he ought to consider something else, what about an elegant opal if it absolutely had to be green? Or perhaps a stone with chrome in, it was the chrome that lent the emerald the green colour, that was all there was to the mystery.
    That was all there was to the mystery.
    Truls had left the shop with a promise to himself. The next time he was contacted by anyone for a burn scam he would suggest they break into this particular jewellery shop first. And they should burn it. Quite literally. Burn it the same way the young girl at Come As You Are had burned. He had heard it on the police radio while driving around town and had considered going over to see if he could help. After all, his suspension had been lifted. Mikael had said there were only a few formalities to clear up before he could go back to work. His plans to terrorise Mikael were on ice now, they would be able to re-establish their friendship, no problem, and everything would be as before. Yes, at last he would be allowed to join in, have a go, contribute. Get the psycho cop killer. If Truls got the chance he would personally . . . well. He glanced at the cabinet beside his bed. Inside, he had enough weapons to expedite fifty psychos.
    The doorbell rang.
    Truls sighed.
    Someone wanted something off him. Experience told him it could be one of four possibilities. 1) He should become a Jehovah’s Witness and dramatically increase his chances of ending up in Paradise. 2) He should donate money to some collection or other for an African president who based his wealth on collection campaigns. 3) He should open the door to a gang of youths who said they’d forgotten the key but only wanted to break into the storage rooms in the cellar. Or 4) Some of the housing co-op sticklers wanted him to go down and do some chore he had forgotten to do. None of them was reason enough to get out of bed.
    The bell rang for the third time.
    Even Jehovah’s Witnesses gave up after two.
    Of course it might be Mikael, wanting to talk about things that were best avoided on the phone. To make sure they were singing from the same hymn sheet if there were any more interviews about the money in his account.
    Truls deliberated for a few minutes.
    Then he swung his legs out of bed.
    ‘This is Aronsen from C block. You own a silver-grey Suzuki Vitara, right?’
    ‘Yes,’ Truls said into the intercom. It should have been an Audi Q5 2.0 6-speed manual. It should have been the reward for the last job for Asayev. The last instalment after serving them up that irritating detective, Harry Hole. Instead he had a Japanese car people made jokes about. Suzuki Viagra.
    ‘Can you hear the alarm?’
    Truls heard it more clearly now through the intercom.
    ‘Oh, shit,’ he said. ‘I’ll see if I can switch it off with the remote.’
    ‘If I were you I’d get down here right away. They’d smashed a side window and were taking out the radio and CD player when I arrived. I reckon they’re hanging around to see what will happen.’
    ‘Oh, shit!’ Truls repeated.
    ‘Not at all, pleasure to be able to help,’ Aronsen said.
    Truls put on his trainers, checked he had his car keys and then a thought struck him. He went back to the bedroom, opened the cabinet door and took out one of the guns,