Harry Hole Oslo Sequence 10 - Police

had changed the chairs as well. For hard, low wooden ones.
    Hagen had been summoned, and the assistant in the anteroom had shown him in and said the Chief of Police would be along soon.
    The door opened.
    ‘There you are!’ Bellman rushed round the desk and slumped into the chair. Interlaced his hands behind his head.
    ‘Anything new?’
    Hagen coughed. He knew Bellman was aware that there was nothing new, as Hagen had standing orders to pass on the smallest development in the two murder cases. But he did as he was asked, explained that they still didn’t have any clues in the cases viewed in isolation, or a connection between the murders, beyond the obvious, that the victims were two policemen who had been found at scenes of earlier unsolved murders they themselves had investigated.
    Bellman got up in the middle of Hagen’s account and stood by the window with his back to him. Rocked on his heels. Pretended to listen for a while before breaking in.
    ‘You’ve got to fix this, Hagen.’
    Gunnar Hagen stopped. Waited for him to continue.
    Bellman turned. There was a redness around the white patches on his face.
    ‘And I have to query your judgement prioritising the twenty-four-hour guard at the Rikshospital when honest policemen are being killed. Shouldn’t it be all hands on deck for this investigation?’
    Hagen looked at Bellman in amazement. ‘It isn’t my officers doing it; it’s the City Centre Police Station and PHS students doing their practicals. I don’t think the investigation is suffering, Mikael.’
    ‘Isn’t it?’ Bellman said. ‘I’d still like you to reconsider your decision. I can’t see any impending danger of someone killing the patient after all the time that’s passed. They know he’ll never be able to testify anyway.’
    ‘The doctors say there are signs of improvement.’
    ‘The case no longer has priority.’ The Police Chief’s answer came in a hurried, almost angry tone. Then he took a deep breath and turned on the charm. ‘But mounting a guard is of course your decision. I don’t want to be involved. Understood?’ he smiled.
    It was on the tip of Hagen’s tongue to answer no, but he managed to restrain himself and nodded briefly while trying to grasp what Mikael Bellman was after.
    ‘Good,’ Bellman said, clapping his hands to signal the meeting was over. Hagen was about to get up, as nonplussed as when he arrived, but instead stayed seated.
    ‘We were thinking of trying a different procedure.’
    ‘Oh?’
    ‘Yes,’ Hagen said. ‘Dividing the investigative unit into several smaller ones.’
    ‘How come?’
    ‘To allow more space for alternative ideas. Big groups have the competence, but are not suitable for thinking outside the box in the same way.’
    ‘And we have to think outside . . . the box?’
    Hagen ignored the sarcasm. ‘We’re going round in circles and we can’t see the wood for the trees.’
    He eyed the Police Chief. As a former detective Bellman knew the scenario well of course; a group could get stuck in a rut, assumptions hardened into facts and you’re unable to see alternative hypotheses. Nevertheless, Bellman shook his head.
    ‘In small groups you lose the ability to see a case through, Hagen. The responsibility is atomised, you get in each other’s way and the same job is repeated. One big, well-coordinated group is always best. At least as long as it has a strong, decisive leader . . .’
    Hagen felt the uneven surface of his molars as he ground his teeth and hoped the effect of Bellman’s insinuation could not be seen in his facial expression.
    ‘But—’
    ‘When a leader starts changing tactics it can easily be interpreted as desperation and an admission that he’s failed.’
    ‘But we have failed, Mikael. It’s March now, which means it’s six months since the first murder.’
    ‘No one will follow a leader who’s failed, Hagen.’
    ‘My colleagues are neither blind nor stupid. They know we’re in a rut. And they also know that good leaders must have the ability to change tack.’
    ‘Good leaders know how to inspire their teams.’
    Hagen swallowed. Swallowed what he wanted to say. That he was lecturing on leadership at the military academy while Bellman was running around with a catapult. That if Bellman was so bloody good at inspiring his subordinates, how about inspiring him – Gunnar Hagen? But he was too tired, too frustrated to swallow the words he knew would irritate Mikael Bellman most.
    ‘We were