Don't Look Back

by Karin Fossum

  "Big or small?" he said, coming down the last steps. The youth was more than a head shorter that he was and as slender as a piece of kindling.

  "I want a carpet that's big enough to cover the whole floor, so none of the chairs are on bare floor. It's such a bother to clean."

  Johnas nodded. "Come upstairs. That's where we have the biggest carpets." He started walking up the stairs.

  Halvor followed. It didn't occur to him to use the opportunity to ask questions; he felt as if he were being driven by unknown forces, as if he were gliding up a track into a dark mountain.

  Johnas switched on the six chandeliers which had been sent from a glass-blowing studio in Venice. They hung from the tarred beams in the ceiling, casting a warm but powerful light over the large room.

  "What colour were you thinking of?"

  Halvor stopped at the head of the stairs and looked at the room. "All of them are red," he murmured.

  Johnas gave him an indulgent smile. "I don't mean to sound arrogant," he said in a friendly voice, "but do you realise what they cost?"

  Halvor looked at him with narrowed eyes. Something from the past rose up in his mind, something he hadn't felt for a long time. "I suppose I don't look awfully rich," he said tonelessly. "Maybe you'd like to see a bank statement?"

  Johnas hesitated. "Please forgive me. But a lot of people wander in here and end up feeling embarrassed. I just wanted to do you a favour and spare you the awkwardness."

  "That was considerate," Halvor said.

  He stepped into the room, strode past Johnas, and headed straight for a large carpet that hung on the wall. He stretched out his hand and played with the fringe. In the patterns he could make out men and horses and weapons.

  "Two and a half by three metres," Johnas said. "An excellent choice, if I may say so. The pattern depicts a war between two nomad groups. It's very heavy."

  "You can have it delivered, can't you?" Halvor said.

  "Certainly. I have a delivery truck. I was thinking more in terms of keeping it clean. It takes several men just to shake it out."

  "I'll take it."

  "Excuse me?" Johnas took a few steps closer and stared at him uncertainly. This young man was strange.

  "It's almost the most expensive carpet I have – 70,000 kroner."

  He watched the boy closely as he said the price. Halvor didn't blink an eye.

  "I'm sure it's worth it."

  Johnas didn't like it. A nagging suspicion was creeping up his spine like a cold snake. He couldn't tell what this kid wanted or why he was acting so strangely. He couldn't possibly have that much money, and if he did, he wouldn't spend it on a carpet.

  "Please wrap it for me," Halvor said, crossing his arms. He leaned against a mahogany drop-leaf table that creaked alarmingly under his weight.

  "Wrap it?" Johnas curled his lips into a smile. "I roll them up and put plastic and tape around the outside."

  "OK, that's fine."

  Halvor waited.

  "It takes a little work to get it down from the wall. I suggest that I bring it out to you this evening. Then I can help you put it in place."

  "No, no," Halvor said. "I want to take it now."

  Johnas hesitated. "You want to take it now. And – forgive my rudeness – how will you pay for it?"

  "Cash, if that's all right."

  He patted his back pocket. He was wearing faded jeans with frayed cuffs. Johnas stood in front of him, still dubious.

  "Is there something wrong?" Halvor said.

  "I don't know. Perhaps."

  "And what would that be?"

  "I know who you are," Johnas said, deciding to take a firm stance. It was a relief to stop pretending.

  "Do we know each other?"

  Johnas nodded, standing there rocking back and forth with his hands on his hips.

  "Yes, we do, Halvor. Of course we know each other. I think you'd better go now."

  "Why? Is something wrong?"

  "Let's cut the crap, right now!" Johnas said, tight-lipped.

  "I agree!" snarled Halvor. "Take down that carpet, and do it fast!"

  "On reflection, I don't think I want to sell it. I'm moving and I want to keep it for myself. Besides, it's much too expensive for you. Be honest now, we both know that you can't afford it."

  "So you want to keep it for yourself?" Halvor turned on his heel. "Well, I can understand that. I'll take a different one."

  He looked at the wall again and pointed at once to a carpet in pinks and greens. "I'll take that one instead," he said simply. "Please get it down for me, and give me a receipt."

  "It costs 44,000."

  "That's fine."

  "Is that so?"

  He was still waiting with his arms crossed and his pupils as hard as buckshot. "Would it be too presumptuous of me to ask to see that you actually do have the money?"

  Halvor shook his head. "Of course not. I realise that it's impossible to know just from looking at people whether they have money these days."

  He stuck his hand in his hip pocket and took out an old wallet made of nylon with Velcro, flat as a pancake. He poked his fingers inside and jingled some coins. Took out a few and put them on the drop-leaf table.

  Johnas stared at him sceptically as the five-, ten-, and one-krone coins formed a little heap. "All right, that's enough," he said harshly. "You've already taken up enough of my time. Now get out of here!"

  Halvor stopped and glanced up at him, looking almost offended.

  "I'm not done yet. I have more." He dug further into his wallet.

  "No, you don't! You live in an old shack with your grandmother, and you deliver ice cream! It costs 44,000," he said sharply. "You'd better cough up the money right now..."

  "So you know where I live?" Halvor looked at him. Things were starting to get dangerous, but he wasn't scared; for some reason he wasn't scared at all.

  "I do have this," he said suddenly, pulling something out of the slot for banknotes in his wallet. Johnas stared at him suspiciously, casting a dubious eye at what he was holding between two fingers.

  "It's a disk," Halvor said.

  "I don't want a disk; I want 40,000 kroner," Johnas snapped, feeling fear begin to hack at his chest.

  "Annie's diary," Halvor said, waving the disk. "She started keeping a diary a while ago. In November, as a matter of fact. We've been looking for it, several of us. You know how girls are: always having to confide things."

  Johnas was breathing hard. His gaze was aimed at Halvor like a stapling machine.

  "I've read it," Halvor said. "It's about you."

  "Give it to me!"

  "Not until hell freezes over!"

  Johnas gave a start. Halvor's voice had changed tone and was suddenly deeper. It was like listening to an evil spirit speaking through the mouth of a child.

  "I've made copies of it," he said. "So I can buy as many carpets as I want. Every time I feel like having a new carpet, I'll just make another copy. Do you understand what I'm saying?"

  "You hysterical little brat! What kind of institution did you escape from?"

  Johnas steeled himself, and in a fraction of a second Halvor saw his torso swell up as he prepared to spring. He weighed about 20 kilos more than Halvor, and he was furious. Halvor dove to the side and saw the man miss his target and slide along the stone floor, slamming headfirst into the drop-leaf table. The coins scattered in all directions, jangling as they struck the floor. Johnas began to spew out the ugliest curses Halvor had ever heard, even taking into account his father's extensive vocabulary. In two seconds he was back on his feet. A single glance at his dark face made Halvor realise that the battle was lost. He was much bigger. Halvor made for the stairs, but Johnas was after him at once, taking three or four steps, and then lunging forward. He rammed into Halvor's back at shoulder level. Instinctively the boy kept his head up, but his body struck the stone floor with great force.

  "Take your fucking hands off me!"

  Johnas spun him around. Halvor felt the m
an's breath on his face and his fists tightening around his throat.

  "You're out of your mind!" he said. "You're done for! I don't care what you do to me, but you're done for!"

  Johnas was deaf and blind. He raised his clenched fist and took aim at the lean face. Halvor had been beaten before and knew what was in store for him. The knuckles struck him under the chin, and his fragile jaw snapped like dry tinder. His lower teeth struck with powerful force against his upper teeth, and tiny bits of crushed porcelain mixed with the blood that came gushing out of his mouth. Johnas kept on pounding at him, no longer taking aim, merely striking out at random as Halvor flung his body from side to side. Finally Johnas smashed his fist against the stone floor and howled, lurched to his feet and stared at his hand, panting. There was a great deal of blood. He stared at what was lying on the floor and took a long, deep breath. After a few minutes his heartbeat returned to normal and his mind cleared.

  "He's not here," said the grandmother surprised, when Sejer and Skarre appeared at her door. "He was going out to visit somebody. I think his name was Johnas. He was all upset too, and he hadn't eaten anything. I don't know what's going on any more, and I'm too old to keep up with everything."

  The news made Sejer pound his fist twice against the door frame.

  "Did he get a phone call or anything like that?"

  "Nobody calls us. Annie was the only one who called every once in a while. He's been sitting in his room all afternoon, playing with his computer. Suddenly he stormed out and disappeared."

  "I'm sure we'll find him. You have to excuse us, but we're in a hurry."

  "Of all things," he said to Skarre as he slammed the car door, "this was the worst he could have done."

  "We'll soon see what's happened," Skarre said, tight-lipped, and spun the car around in the yard.

  "I don't see Halvor's motorcycle."

  Skarre jumped out. Sejer turned to Kollberg, who was still lying on the back seat, and took a dog biscuit from his pocket.

  They pulled on the door, which swung slowly open, as they found themselves glaring defiantly at the video camera in the ceiling. Johnas saw them from the kitchen. For a moment he remained sitting at the ship's table, breathing calmly, as he blew on his injured knuckles. There was no rush. One thing at a time. True, a lot was happening all at once; even so, he was used to being able to take care of everything. He was a very capable man. Took each problem one at a time, as they cropped up. It was one of his special skills. Very calmly he stood up and proceeded to walk down the stairs.

  "You're certainly getting around," he said. "It's beginning to border on harassment."

  "Do you really think so?"

  Sejer loomed in front of him like a giant pillar. Everything looked presentable; there were no other customers in the gallery.

  "We're looking for someone. We thought we might find him here."

  Johnas gave them an enquiring look, turned to look around the room, and threw out his hands. "I'm the only one here. And I was just about to close up. It's late."

  "We'd like to take a look. We'll be quick, of course."

  "Frankly..."

  "Maybe he slipped inside when you weren't looking and is hiding somewhere. You never know."

  Sejer was trembling, and Skarre thought that he looked as though a great storm were gathering force under his shirt.

  "I'm closing up now!" Johnas said.

  They walked past him and up the stairs. Took a good look around. Went into the office, opened the door to the toilet, continued on up to the attic. No one in sight.

  "Who did you expect to find here?"

  Johnas was leaning against the banister, studying them with one eyebrow raised. His chest was rising and falling visibly.

  "Halvor Muntz."

  "And who is that?"

  "Annie's boyfriend."

  "Why would he come here?"

  "I'm not sure."

  Unperturbed, Sejer wandered round the gallery. "But he hinted that he was coming here. He's been playing detective on his own, and I think we ought to put a stop to it."

  "I agree wholeheartedly," Johnas said, with a condescending smile. "But there hasn't been anyone playing Hardy Boys here."

  Sejer kicked at the rolled-up carpets with the tip of his shoe. "Does this building have a basement?"

  "No."

  "What do you do with the carpets at night? Do you leave them out?"

  "Most of them, yes. But I put the most expensive ones in the vault."

  "I see."

  Suddenly he caught sight of the small mahogany table, beneath which a handful of coins lay scattered.

  "Are you always so careless with your small change?" he said.

  Johnas shrugged. Sejer didn't like the fact that it was so quiet. He didn't like the expression on the carpet dealer's face. In a corner of the room he noticed a pink bucket with a scrubbing brush next to it. The floor was damp. "Have you been washing the floor?" he asked.

  "It's the last thing I do before I close up the shop. I save a lot of money by doing it myself. As you can see," he said after a moment, "there's nobody here."

  Sejer looked at him. "Show us the vault."

  For a moment Johnas looked as if he might refuse, but then he changed his mind and started heading down the stairs.

  "It's on the first floor. You can see it of course, though naturally it's locked, and it would be impossible to hide inside."

  They followed him down to the first floor to a corner under the stairs, where they saw a steel door, quite low but much wider than a normal door. Johnas went over and twisted the dial of a combination lock back and forth. With every twist a tiny click was audible. He was using his left hand, a little clumsily, because he was right-handed.

  "Is this boy so valuable that you think I would hide him in here?"

  "Possibly," said Sejer, staring at the clumsy left hand. Johnas gripped the handle of the heavy door and pulled with all his might.

  "I'm sure it'd be easier if you used both hands," Sejer said.

  Johnas raised an eyebrow, as if he didn't understand. Sejer peered into the cramped space, which contained a small safe, two or three paintings leaning against the wall, and a number of rolled carpets stacked up on the floor like logs.

  "That's all there is." He gave them a belligerent look. The vault was brightly lit with two long fluorescent tubes in the ceiling. The walls were bare.

  Sejer smiled. "But he was here, wasn't he? What did he want?"

  "Nobody's been here, except for you two."

  Sejer nodded and walked out of the vault. Skarre cast him an uneasy glance, but followed him out.

  "If he happens to turn up, would you contact us immediately?" Sejer said. "He's been going through a difficult time lately after all that's happened. He needs help."