Fireraiser

by Torkil Damhaug

  – Sorry I couldn’t make chess, he said once he’d unlocked the door. – I should’ve sent you a message.

  – You already told me. What happened to you?

  – Banged into something. A door. Karsten ran a finger over his swollen lower lip. – Did you see about the fire at Strømmen? he went on, to change the subject.

  – I’ve just been up there.

  – Any news?

  Dan-Levi wiped the drizzle off his glasses. – The police are pretty sure it was arson.

  – Have they got any clues?

  – Well they don’t announce that kind of thing. But I’ll be writing more about it, so don’t miss it. He peered past him into the house. – Are you still on your own?

  – Just till this afternoon. Why do you ask?

  Dan-Levi put his glasses on again, swept back his long black hair. – You remember that morning last week when you called round to see me?

  Karsten thought about it. – It was last Friday. Why wouldn’t I?

  – Remember I found something at the foot of the steps?

  – You mean that figure?

  – It wasn’t a figure, or at least not a toy. I realised that afterwards.

  It wasn’t like Dan-Levi to be this serious when they spoke. He always seemed like someone who hadn’t a care in the world.

  – What was it then?

  – Karsten, you mustn’t tell anyone else this.

  – Of course not.

  – I think it might have been some kind of ignition mechanism

  Suddenly Dan-Levi’s gaze was quizzical. Karsten had to avert his eyes.

  – And you’re asking me about it? Why?

  – Because I thought you might have dropped it.

  – But it was just lying there, you were standing right next to me.

  Dan-Levi was still staring at him. – And I believe it was coincidental, Karsten. The point is, a person who finds something like that, in this case me, automatically becomes a witness. And the police will want to talk to you too.

  – The police?

  – I want you to go and see them. Better that way than that you wait for them to contact you.

  Karsten looked round. – I know the people who own that sweet shop. He lowered his voice. – It’s the family of a girl in my class. Think that has anything to do with it?

  Dan-Levi’s eyes widened. He removed his glasses again, spent a long time wiping them.

  – A friend of mine works at the police station, he said finally. – He’s okay. Promise me you’ll go and see him as soon as you can?

  Karsten shrugged. – Don’t see that I can help them much.

  – You don’t need to do anything apart from tell them what you know.

  Dan-Levi dug his hand into his pocket, pulled out a piece of paper. Something was written on it: Roar Horvath, Sergeant, and a telephone number.

  – Then we’ve got a deal, Karsten.

  The Peugeot was standing in front of the red garage with its boot open. Before Karsten could ring the bell, the door opened. Elsa Wilkins emerged with her coat on, a suitcase in one hand.

  – Hi, Karsten, she said. – You still look as if you’ve got troubles.

  She put a hand on his arm. He looked down. – Bit stressed out. It’ll be okay. Are you going away?

  – Just for the Easter weekend. She smiled, and he was on the point of asking her to stay. As though nothing bad could happen as long as she was there.

  – Where are you going?

  – Åsgårdstrand, she answered, still with her hand on his arm. – I’m attending a seminar.

  – Tarot?

  – That too.

  – You mentioned something last time I was here. That card with the burning tower. He said it mostly to detain her for a few more moments. – Some of what you said turned out to be true.

  – I know, Karsten. You’re right to come here. Adrian is good at taking care of people. She squeezed his arm. – Maybe I’ll be able to help you too when I come back. She laughed. – I know how sceptical you are. And that’s good.

  She headed towards the car, turned.

  – He’s down in the basement. You’ve got the place to yourselves the whole weekend.

  Adrian was sitting in front of the computer. – There you are, he said as Karsten knocked on the door and stuck his head round.

  Karsten saw the piece about the fire on the screen.

  – You know who owns that shop? he exclaimed. His voice felt splintered round the edges. – Jasmeen sent me a text message. Maybe they think I had something to do with it.

  Adrian indicated for him to sit down in the leather armchair, handed him a mug. – And you don’t?

  Karsten jumped up again, splashing scalding coffee across his hand and swearing. – Seriously?

  Adrian looked at him, his brow furrowed. Then he broke into a smile.

  – Had to ask. Now it’s done. You can sit down again.

  Karsten remained on his feet. – Does the fire have anything to do with Sæter and all that stuff?

  Adrian folded his hands behind his head, looked up at the ceiling. – Well we agreed that they needed to be given a message, a line needed to be drawn. But sometimes things happen that aren’t planned.

  – So you know who did it?

  Adrian shook his head slowly. – But there’s no harm in taking a guess.

  – Could you get them to hand themselves in?

  – Listen, Karsten. That shop is insured for a lot more than it’s worth. And they’ve already had a fire in another shop they owned. Maybe someone just got there ahead of them this time. Maybe they did it themselves.

  Karsten couldn’t sit still. In a few hours’ time they’d be back from the cabin, his mother, father and Synne. Before that he had to get all of this tidied up.

  – Once they realise you’ve got people backing you, they’ll think twice before doing anything, Adrian reassured him. – That’s the kind of language they understand.

  – I’m going to the police, Karsten finally managed to blurt out. – They want to talk to me.

  He tried to explain what Dan-Levi had said to him.

  – What did it look like? Adrian interrupted.

  Karsten described the ignition device as far as he could recall it.

  – And it was lying on the steps of the house where this chess pal of yours lives?

  – Or just next to them.

  – Think about it. Adrian suddenly seemed irritated. – Was it on the steps, or just next to the steps?

  – A metre in front of them, in the snow.

  Adrian’s eyes narrowed. – We’ve got to stay one step ahead, he said into the air, as though he was talking to himself. – Always surprise.

  He leaned forward and patted Karsten on the thigh, then got up and crossed to the wardrobe, glanced at himself in the mirror.

  – Elsa’s going to be away for Easter.

  – I just met her outside, Karsten nodded.

  Adrian whirled round. – You didn’t mention anything about this? And nothing about what happened at the weekend?

  Karsten hadn’t mentioned anything about secret meetings, or weapons training, or the sacrifice.

  – Elsa is a good person, Adrian explained. – I don’t want to bother her with things she doesn’t need to know anything about.

  He slid his hand below a pile of clothing on one of the shelves, pulled out a black leather pouch. – Vemund and Sweaty are keeping an eye on your house.

  Karsten’s jaw dropped. His upper lip still hurt, and his knuckles were sore.

  – The guy who said he’s going to kill me? You can’t trust that clown. Or his moron buddy.

  Adrian opened the pouch and took out the Luger. – My grandfather was at the Normandy landings. He was one of the first to set foot on Sword Beach.

  He pulled out the magazine, inserted some bullets. – The safety catch is on, but don’t wave it about. Sit with it a couple of minutes, get used to the feel of it in your hand.

  With a little smil
e, he handed the weapon to Karsten. – Less than a week after D-Day, my grandfather was sent inland with an advance troop, towards a town called Bayeux. They came to a barn. It was raining, and the captain ordered my grandfather to check to see if they could shelter there. Grandfather kicks open the door and there, lying behind the corpse of a horse completely covered in rats, is a German soldier. The German points his pistol at my grandfather. My grandfather is quicker. He kills him with two shots. That’s how he came by this. Try to imagine what it’s been used for.

  He kept his eyes fixed on Karsten. – I’ll walk back to your place with you. From now on you need to be very aware of who you’re hanging out with. Know who they are, if they’ll back you or stab you in the back. Neither Vemund nor Sweaty is what you would call a Nietzschean Übermensch, and they both hate you. Not without reason. And Vemund is a difficult bastard who’s not afraid to take his revenge. But he does what I tell him to do. And I’m the one you can trust.

  He emptied his coffee cup and pulled on his leather jacket, took the Luger from Karsten and put it in his inside pocket.

  – You can spend the nights here until Elsa gets back. That gives us a few days to find a solution.

  Karsten felt a bubbling in his chest. Something is going to happen, he thought again. He held on to the thought, went through it word for word. Something is going to happen.

  As they were on their way out, a huge van turned into the drive and stopped next to the garage.

  – Did you get hold of them? Adrian asked Kai as he clambered out.

  – They’ll be ready tomorrow evening.

  – Not before?

  Kai shrugged. In the biting wind he was wearing only a T-shirt.

  Adrian turned towards Karsten. – We’ve had an idea about how to deal with this Paki gang of yours. We’ve got contacts in another gang. Vietnamese.

  – The Lia gang? Karsten exclaimed.

  – A cross-cultural co-operation, Adrian nodded.

  – Excellent people, Kai added with a grin. In the afternoon light, his bleached hair looked yellow.

  As they headed up the road, Karsten tried to find out if all this was serious.

  – It doesn’t solve your problem, Adrian answered. – But we’ll make sure Chadar and his pals have something else to worry about this Easter.

  Karsten tried to pull himself together. – Is that Kai trustworthy?

  Adrian put a hand on his shoulder. – Kai is my cousin, he reassured him. – He knows what he’s doing.

  Synne was standing out on the steps as they headed up the drive.

  – Oh shit, they’re home already, Karsten groaned.

  – Nothing’ll happen to them, Adrian repeated.

  – Hi, Adrian, Synne said happily. She was wearing a pink parka and black tights.

  – Weren’t you supposed to be back tonight? said Karsten.

  – Mum had to prepare for a meeting. Can you help me with something? She looked at Adrian.

  – Of course we can help you, Synne.

  She blushed. – Dad promised to get my bike out, but he’s so lazy. And now he’s gone off to the petrol station to shop.

  Adrian spread his hands. – Then we’ll do it.

  The bike was hanging from a hook at the back of the garage, behind the Volvo. Karsten went to fetch the car keys. When he came back, Synne was standing there tapping something into her phone.

  – Gave her my number, Adrian winked. – Never know when you might need it.

  Karsten backed the car out, and Adrian followed with the bike.

  – You need air in both your tyres. And the chain needs oiling.

  He began pumping. Karsten held the bike. It was calming to be doing something together. Adrian ran the tip of the oil can over the dry chain. When he was done, he slid his finger around the frame with its half-torn transfers of Disney princesses.

  – What are you doing today? Karsten wanted to know.

  Synne sat on her bike. – Going to Tamara’s. She’s on her own at home.

  – Just the two of you?

  She nodded. – Mum and I were going to watch a film, but she can’t after all. So I’m sleeping over at Tamara’s instead.

  Adrian patted her on the head. As usual, the thick brown hair was uncombed, with dense tangles at the back.

  – You should be wearing a helmet, said Karsten.

  She yawned. – No one at school uses a helmet.

  Nothing must happen to her, he thought suddenly. He put his arm around her and pulled her towards him.

  – Be careful then.

  She reached up and gave him a hug. It had been a while since the last time, and he was taken aback, but he understood why when she then did the same with Adrian before pedalling away through the gate.

  29

  The policeman who came down to fetch him had a naff moustache that ended in two twisted points. He had to be using wax on it, Karsten thought as he was ushered into a small, almost unfurnished office. A few folders and magazine holders on the shelf, a noticeboard with a duty list on it.

  – I need to talk to … Karsten fumbled out the note Dan-Levi had given him. – Someone called Horvath.

  – You need to talk to me, said the policeman, without making it clear whether he was or was not Horvath.

  Karsten sat on the edge of the plastic chair. He didn’t have much to tell. He was passing Dan-Levi’s house one morning on his way to school, saw his chess-playing partner on the steps, went over for a chat. As he was about to leave, Dan-Levi picked something up from the ground.

  – Describe what he found.

  Karsten had hardly even looked at it that morning.

  – A cigarette, some matches, a rubber band.

  Mustachio shoved a pen and paper across the table towards him. – Draw it.

  He did his best.

  – And that was the first time you’d ever seen anything like that?

  Even though it was easy to answer, Karsten disliked the question. The police guy took a bag from a drawer, placed cigarettes, rubber bands, paper clips and a few lengths of string on the table.

  – Can you make one?

  – You mean assemble all this lot?

  – That is what I mean.

  – Why should I do that?

  The policeman looked at him for a few moments.

  – Try, he said finally.

  Karsten laid a couple of matches against a cigarette, fiddled with a rubber band. Made a sort of rough job of it.

  – Is that what the thing looked like?

  – More or less.

  – No string, or thread?

  – Don’t think so.

  The guy tweaked the ends of his moustache, first one side, then the other. Karsten felt a sudden urge to get up, leave the room, just get out of there. Or else tell the man everything that had happened. He did none of those things.

  – Have you any idea who might be behind it? he stammered.

  Mustachio gave a quick grin.

  – We have our suspicions.

  He leaned back in his chair, folded his arms behind his head. – So you play chess?

  Karsten nodded. – Can I have a glass of water?

  Mustachio got up, went out into the corridor. Half a minute later he was back with a plastic cup. The water was tepid and smelled metallic. Karsten forced half of it down. Then a thought struck him; he couldn’t shake it off.

  – Was that … water?

  The policeman frowned. – What else would it be?

  Karsten peered down into the cup, saw the tiny bubbles there, couldn’t shake off the thought that something had been added to the clear liquid.

  – I’m going to ask you about a few dates. I want you to try to remember what you were doing on those days.

  Karsten squeezed the cup. The flimsy plastic cracked and what was left inside jetted in a thin stream on to his trousers. The policeman again studied him intently before turning towards the window. He took a few paper tissues and slung them across to him.

  – The f
irst date is Sunday March the thirty-first. To be specific, the night of April the first.

  – Why are you asking me about that?

  The policeman shrugged. – I’ve asked a hundred people the same thing and I’ll be asking a hundred more. Or a thousand.

  The answer didn’t make Karsten feel any easier. A stinging pain spread through his stomach.

  – Was at home, he managed to say.

  – Sure?

  The pain rose into his chest. There was something in that water, he thought again, something that was making his heartbeat heavy and uneven.

  – I need some fresh air, he said.

  – It can wait.

  The policeman continued to question him about various dates, where he had been, if he knew where the Stornes stables were, and the Furutunet remand home. This last question was what tipped the scales. Karsten got to his feet. Dark shadows drifting in from the sides narrowed his vision.

  – Sit down, said the policeman. – I’ve got a couple more questions and then we’re done.

  Karsten pulled the door open and staggered out into the corridor, ran towards the vestibule and out into the parking lot, where he stopped, bent over and gasped for breath.

  His father was sitting in the living room watching TV when Karsten sneaked in through the front door. He wasn’t sure whether his mother was back from the office. Something to do with a business dispute, or a quarrel over a will. Or was it political? After she joined the board of the local council, she always came home with two piles of documents, one from work, the other committee stuff.

  – Is that you, Karsten?

  Karsten looked in on his father.

  – Everything all right?

  He said yes. Everything was all right. Absolutely everything. He didn’t scream; on the contrary, his voice was so calm it was almost inaudible.

  – Spending the night at a pal’s house.

  – That’s all right.

  – Heard from Synne?