Harry Hole Oslo Sequence 10 - Police

monitor. Listened to the rhythmical beeps, like a submarine’s sonar signals from the depths of the ocean. He didn’t know what made him do it, but he did as the nurse had done, leaned over the man’s face. Closed his eyes. And felt the breath on his cheek.
    Altman. Anton had taken a close look at his name tag before he left. The nurse’s name was Sigurd Altman. He had a gut feeling, that was all. But he had already decided that he would check him out the following day. He didn’t want this to turn out like Drammen. He wasn’t going to make any mistakes this time.

8
    KATRINE BRATT SAT with her feet on the desk and a telephone pressed between her shoulder and ear. Gunnar Hagen was on another call. Her fingers ran across the keyboard in front of her. She knew that behind her, outside the window, Bergen was bathed in sunshine. That the wet streets were glistening from the rain that had been falling all morning until ten minutes ago. And that with the Bergen law of averages it would soon start to drizzle again. But right now there was a glimpse of sun, and Katrine Bratt hoped Gunnar Hagen would finish on the other line, so that he could resume the conversation he was having with her. She only wanted to hand over the information she had and get out of Bergen Police Station. Into the fresh Atlantic ozone that tasted so much better than the air her former boss was inhaling at that moment in his office in the east of the capital. Before he released it again in the form of an indignant shout:
    ‘What do you mean we can’t talk to him yet? Is he out of the coma or not? . . . Yes, I appreciate he’s in a fragile state, but . . . What?’
    Katrine hoped that what she had spent the last few days finding out would put Hagen in a better mood than he was obviously in now. She scanned the pages, just to check what she already knew.
    ‘I don’t give a shit what his solicitor says,’ Hagen said. ‘And I don’t give a shit what the consultant says, either. I want him questioned now !’
    Katrine Bratt heard him smack down the receiver. Then, at last, he was back.
    ‘What was that all about?’ she asked.
    ‘Nothing,’ Hagen said.
    ‘Is it him?’ she asked.
    Hagen sighed. ‘Yes, it’s him. He’s coming out of the coma, but they’re doping him up and saying we have to wait at least two days before we can talk to him.’
    ‘Isn’t it wise to tread warily?’
    ‘Probably. But as you know we need some results now. The police murders have us on our knees.’
    ‘Two days won’t make much difference.’
    ‘I know, I know. But I have to do a bit of barking. I mean, that’s half the point of climbing your way to the top. Isn’t it?’
    Katrine Bratt had no answer to that. She’d never had any interest in becoming a boss. And even if she had, she had a suspicion that detectives who had done time in psychiatric wards would not be first in the queue when the big, spacious offices were being allocated. The diagnosis had shifted from manic depression via borderline personality disorder to bipolar and healthy. At least as long as she took the small pink pills to keep her on an even keel. They could criticise the use of pills in psychiatry as much as they liked, for Katrine they had meant a new and better life. But she noticed that her boss kept a watchful eye on her, and that she wasn’t being given more work in the field than absolutely necessary. That was fine, though; she liked sitting in her cramped office with a high-spec computer and exclusive access to search engines even the police didn’t know about. Looking, searching, finding. Tracking down people who had apparently vanished from the surface of the earth. Seeing patterns where others only see chance. That was Katrine Bratt’s speciality and more than once it had been of benefit to Kripos and Crime Squad in Oslo. So they would have to put up with the walking psychosis.
    ‘You said you had something for me.’
    ‘It’s been quiet in the department for the last few weeks, so I’ve been having a look at the murdered police officers.’
    ‘Did your boss at Bergen tell you . . .?’
    ‘No, no, no. I thought it was better than gawping at Pornhub and playing patience.’
    ‘I’m all ears.’
    Katrine could hear that Hagen was trying to sound positive, but was unable to conceal his despair. He had probably got sick of his hopes being raised only to be dashed in the following months.
    ‘I’ve gone through the data to see if there were any recurrent names