Harry Hole Oslo Sequence 10 - Police

He’s different . Not was. Is.
    ‘Why do you think I’m telling you this?’ Irja stubbed out her cigarette on the table. ‘He’s getting closer. Day by day, I can feel it. Some mornings I wake up, and I can feel his hand round my throat.’
    Katrine wanted to say that was called paranoia, the inseparable companion of heroin. But suddenly she wasn’t so sure. And when Irja’s voice sank to a low whisper as her eyes flitted between the dark corners of the room, Katrine could feel it too. The hand on her throat.
    ‘You’ve got to find him. Please. Before he finds me.’
    Anton Mittet looked at his watch. Half past six. He yawned. Mona had been in to see the patient with a doctor a couple of times. Otherwise nothing had happened. You had a lot of time to think sitting there like that. Too much time actually. Because your thoughts had a tendency to become negative after a while. And that would have been fine if the negativity had been something he could have worked on. But he couldn’t change the Drammen case or his decision not to report the baton he had found in the forest below the crime scene. He couldn’t go back and unsay, undo, the times he had hurt Laura. And he couldn’t undo his first night with Mona. Nor the second.
    He gave a start. What was that? It seemed to come from the far end of the corridor. He listened intently. It was quiet now. But there had been a noise, and apart from the regular squawks from the heart monitor there shouldn’t be any sounds here.
    Anton got to his feet silently, loosened the strap over the butt of his gun and took out the weapon. Removed the safety catch. You keep a damn good eye on him, Anton.
    He waited, but no one came. Then he began to walk slowly down the corridor. He shook all the doors on the way, but they were locked, as they were supposed to be. He rounded the corner and saw the next corridor stretch out before him. Illuminated the whole way down. And there was no one there. He stopped again and listened. Nothing. Perhaps he hadn’t heard anything after all. He put the gun back in its holster.
    Hadn’t heard anything? Oh yes, he had. Something had created waves, which had met the sensitive membrane in his ear, made it react, only a little but enough for the nerves to receive it and transmit the signal to the brain. It was as good as a fact. But it could have been one of a thousand things that had caused it. A mouse or a rat. A bulb exploding with a bang. The temperature falling at night and making the woodwork in the building contract. A bird flying into a window.
    It was only now – as he was calming down – that Anton noticed how high his pulse had been. He should start training again. Get into shape. Recover the body that was the real him .
    He was about to go back when he thought now that he was here he might as well have a cup of coffee. He went over to the red espresso machine and picked up the solitary green capsule with a shiny lid bearing the name of Fortissio Lungo. And it struck him the noise could have been someone sneaking in and pinching their coffee. Hadn’t there been plenty of capsules yesterday? He put the capsule in the machine, but suddenly noticed it had been perforated. Used, in other words. No, it can’t have been, then the lid would have a kind of chess pattern after it had been squeezed. He switched on the machine. The humming started, and then he realised that for the next twenty seconds it would drown out any other noises. He stepped back two paces so that he wasn’t in the middle of it.
    When the cup was full he examined the coffee. Black, nice consistency; the capsule hadn’t been used before.
    As the last drop dripped into his cup he thought he heard it again. A noise. The same noise. But this time from the other side, towards the patient’s room. Had he missed something on the way? Anton switched the cup to his left hand and took out his gun again. Walked back, taking long, even steps. Trying to balance the cup without looking at it, feeling the scalding hot coffee burning his hand. Rounded the corner. No one. He breathed out. Continued towards his chair. Was about to sit down. Then he froze. Went back to patient’s room, opened the door.
    It was impossible to see him; the duvet was covering him.
    But the heart machine’s sonar signal was as steady as ever, and he could see the line running from left to right on the green screen and jumping whenever there was a beep.
    He was about to close the door.
    But something