Authors: Hans Olav Lahlum
I felt relief surge through my body as I listened to Danielsen. It was clearly the interpreter, and fitted well with the assumption that they were looking for her – and that in turn fitted
well with the scenario that Patricia had outlined. When Danielsen stopped talking, I could still hear her voice in my head.
I stood there with Danielsen in front of my eyes and Patricia’s voice in my ears, then together we walked pensively over to my boss’s office and asked him if we could come in for a
minute. I told him the main points of Patricia’s reasoning – without of course mentioning her name.
We sat there and looked at each other – and then at the clock on the wall. It was twenty to four. Whereas time had dragged unbearably earlier in the day, it now suddenly seemed to be
racing.
‘Impressive thinking in such a demanding situation. It may well be the truth, but we still have no evidence,’ my boss said, slowly.
Once again, I got unexpected help from Danielsen.
‘Good thinking, and I think you are right. But it would be terrible if K2’s fiancée is with the communists and we knew and did nothing about it,’ he said.
My boss and I suddenly sighed in unison. He spoke first.
‘We will have to go soon, if we are going to be on time. We will just have to assess the situation there and then as things unfold,’ he said.
Then he stood up without waiting for an answer. Neither Danielsen nor I said anything. We followed him in silence. None of us spoke during the short drive to the embassy.
The table was set with vodka, water and cakes for five, rather than four. Otherwise, everything was the same as it had been the last time we were shown into the meeting room at
the embassy. We were met by the same receptionist and shown along the corridor by the same guide. There was still no emotion to be seen on their faces. And again we were shown to places under the
huge portrait of Brezhnev. There was no one sitting in the other chairs when we arrived this time, either.
The interpreter and vice-ambassador arrived at the same time. The vice-ambassador was very definitely the same, his handshake if anything a little firmer than before and his voice even louder
and faster.
Naturally, the interpreter was new, and I felt sad when I saw her come in. She was not as dark, but all the more serious, and closer to fifty than thirty. She was also twice the size. Her
handshake was weak and her voice hesitant when she started to interpret the vice-ambassador’s first volley.
‘The vice-ambassador welcomes you back and thanks you for making the time on what must be a very busy day for you. This is, of course, a very upsetting time for us at the embassy. One of
our dear colleagues has been killed on the street in broad daylight, and wicked rumours published in the press have meant that the agreement, which is so important to both our countries, has not
been ratified. We hope that the matter will soon be resolved and that this is no more than a temporary postponement. Otherwise, the good relations enjoyed by the Soviet Union and Norway could be
jeopardized.’
The last sentence sounded akin to a threat of war. And in my already fraught frame of mind, I found this very provoking, especially when he spoke of the dead interpreter as a dear colleague. The
situation suddenly resembled a game of chess, where the ambassador was playing with the white pieces and had opened with two very aggressive moves.
My boss started tentatively and diplomatically by giving his condolences for their loss, and assuring the vice-ambassador that the investigation would be given the highest priority. He then
asked what measures the embassy would like to see taken.
The answer came fast and hard from the vice-ambassador, and then somewhat more slowly via the interpreter.
‘The vice-ambassador thanks you for your sympathies. It is hoped that the press will be reprimanded as soon as possible and that there is an official statement to clarify that there is no
suspicion that the crimes committed can in any way be linked to representatives of the Soviet state.’
I looked at my boss, and did not envy him his job.
He replied tersely that in a democracy, the police did not usually reprimand the free press in this way, and as long as the investigation was ongoing, it was problematic to make categorical
statements about who had not committed the crimes.
So far, we were covering the same ground as last time. It felt as though the game had stalled. But then the vice-ambassador made another aggressive move.
‘The vice-ambassador finds it hard to understand why the police cannot publicly state that there is nothing to indicate that representatives of the Soviet Union are in any way involved in
the crimes in question. Unless of course there are grounds for suspicion. And in that case, the vice-ambassador would like to be given the opportunity to clear this up here and now.’
This was a very aggressive move, which made for a moment of drama.
My boss took his time. Danielsen stepped in.
‘There is one crime that complicates the situation there, and which could serve to strengthen the press’s critical focus. A young female student, who it seems had contact with the
deceased interpreter through the university, disappeared last night in uncertain circumstances and has not been seen since. We are concerned that if this remains unresolved, it might draw attention
and result in a further postponement and, at worst, a cancellation of the agreement.’
It was a small counter-attack that made our opponent pause and think for a few moments, but no longer. The answer came just as fast and hard.
‘The vice-ambassador says that would be a very unfortunate situation indeed, but can only assure you that he and the ambassador know nothing about the woman. He would again like to be
given the opportunity to clear up any misunderstandings if the police have grounds not to believe him.’
Yet another fast and aggressive move – as well as a challenging ultimatum.
I looked at Danielsen, who looked back at me. My boss sat quietly between us and said nothing.
Danielsen gave me a quick nod.
It crossed my mind that it was now more like a game of bridge, where no one knew for certain what cards the other players were holding.
I heard the voices of Miriam’s mother and Patricia talking over each other in my head. I thought of Miriam as I had last seen her, when she disappeared into the night on her own.
And I told myself that I might lose my job, but I had to do everything I could to save my fiancée – and that I would always have Patricia’s support.
So I turned towards the vice-ambassador, hesitated for a brief second, then said: ‘The police, of course, are not in a position to say whether this happened with the
vice-ambassador’s approval or not. But, unfortunately, we have strong indications not only that employees from the embassy have been involved in the kidnapping of the woman in question, but
also that she is being held here at the embassy.’
There was silence for a few moments. The interpreter swallowed hard and seemed to struggle to find the right words. The vice-ambassador looked at me, unable to understand, then barked a sharp
comment at the interpreter. She answered in Russian – even more slowly, as far as I could make out.
Then time stopped completely – in much the same way that it had during the shooting at the National Theatre earlier in the day. Later I realized that it might only have been five seconds,
but it felt like a lifetime that the vice-ambassador and I sat looking at each other.
His face was carved in stone, without a twitch of movement. I did not hear a sound from my boss or Danielsen. And as far as I could tell from my peripheral vision, neither of them nodded or
shook their head. They had moved to the sidelines. Suddenly it was a game between the vice-ambassador and me. Which moved on, eventually, after a small eternity, when the vice-ambassador downed
half a glass of vodka, and then answered.
‘The audacity of this accusation leaves the vice-ambassador speechless and dry-mouthed. He hopes that the police realize that any kind of police operation against the embassy would provoke
strong reactions from the Soviet Union and considerable attention in other countries, and that it would have very negative consequences for those responsible on the Norwegian side.’
I worried that my boss would contradict me, but he sat there, calm as ever. So I hurried on.
‘That would certainly be the case if the police, after searching the embassy, did not have any evidence of serious criminal activity on the embassy’s part. But it would be a very
different matter if the police did find evidence that employees of the embassy had committed a serious crime. That would also draw a lot of attention and could have very negative consequences for
those responsible on the Soviet side – regardless of whether they knew about the matter or not.’
I was pushing my luck, hinting that we had evidence that we did not have. But I was now totally convinced that it was true. And this was reinforced when the interpreter again hesitated and the
vice-ambassador again was silent for a few seconds after listening to the translation.
‘The vice-ambassador denies any knowledge of the matter, and stills finds it hard to believe that anything like this could happen without him knowing about it. But given the seriousness of
the matter, he will of course investigate. If the police have any evidence of criminal activity, he hopes that the police might be able to tell him where in the embassy the kidnapped person might
be hidden.’
‘In the basement,’ I replied, short and sweet, having first listened to the translation.
I felt an almost wild sense of triumph go to my head. Time stopped again. The vice-ambassador looked straight at me and raised his eyebrows in his otherwise stony face in something that
resembled both surprise and fear. He downed the other half of his glass of vodka and when he spoke again, it was more slowly and in a quieter voice. The interpreter also dropped her voice in line
with his.
‘The vice-ambassador hopes that it will transpire that no one in the embassy has betrayed its trust and that the young woman will turn up alive and unharmed sometime this evening . . .
and, if this was to happen, he hopes that the investigation could soon be closed.’
An enormous cloud of relief enveloped me. Miriam was alive and unharmed. And our game of chess was definitely about to turn in my favour. My opponent on the other side of the table was no longer
thinking about how to avoid losing, but instead how he could disguise it.
I turned and looked over at my boss. Luckily, he was on the ball.
‘If the missing young lady comes back unharmed this evening, there is every reason to believe that the investigation into that part of the case will be closed.’
Without any hesitation, Danielsen nodded in agreement. As did I.
The vice-ambassador thought about it for a few seconds more, then took two more slugs of vodka from the interpreter’s glass. Followed by another short volley.
‘As far as the death of our colleague is concerned, the vice-ambassador is still very saddened. He does, however, fully understand that it can be difficult to solve murders that are
committed in public places, and would not criticize the Norwegian police in any way if this should prove to be the case.’
It was a cunning, fast move. The offer of understanding was in practice a suggestion that the investigation would be closed without finding the murderer. But it was hard to give a negative
response.
My boss said: ‘Thank you.’ And we all nodded.
At the same time, I thought about the interpreter who had sat here with us the day before and who had been shot in front of my very eyes this morning. It did not sit comfortably. But we had
absolutely no evidence in connection with her death. And my picture of the interpreter, who I had only met briefly and did not know, faded as soon as I thought of my fiancée. Tatiana was a
foreigner with no family in Norway, who was now gone forever. Miriam was Norwegian, she had family here – and apparently she was alive.
The vice-ambassador nodded gravely – and then fired another round.
‘On another note: the vice-ambassador has the impression that the embassy is now under police surveillance, no doubt with the best intentions after today’s murder. However, the
vice-ambassador finds this troubling. Would it be possible to have the surveillance lifted from this evening? The vice-ambassador hopes that it might help to resolve the matter in the best way for
everyone.’
The message was clear: the embassy wanted to ensure that the coast was clear to remove something or someone from the premises. It could well be that they wished to transport the man who had
committed the murder, but it was also likely that they were looking for a way to release Miriam without creating a scandal.
I was not aware that the embassy was under surveillance, and I could not assess the implications of the question.
Danielsen and I both looked at our boss, who once again was quick to respond.
‘It is a routine procedure when a foreign national is attacked in this way that extra measures are put in place to safeguard the embassy. If the embassy so wishes, we can certainly lift
the measure temporarily – between, say, seven and nine o’clock this evening.’
The ambassador did not say any more after listening to the translation. He just held out his hand – first to me, then to my boss, and then Danielsen. Then he stood up to leave.
I felt intoxicated with relief and perhaps emboldened, given these latest developments. And so I played my final card, with the vice-ambassador towering above me.
‘One last thing regarding the murder of Fredriksen, which it is in everyone’s interest to wrap up as quickly as possible: if we can arrest the person responsible, we will of course
then confirm that the murder is in no way connected to the Soviet Embassy. Sometimes embassy staff at various levels can be ordered abroad at short notice. We have reason to believe that the person
we discussed when we were here last, might coincidently have been at the scene of the crime, without necessarily having anything to do with the murder. But we do have reason to believe that he was
there, and therefore need a statement from him about what he saw.’