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sequence on green? A kind of hundred-year green wave? Alright. Should come soon. In the distance he heard the police sirens.
    ‘There’s something not quite right.’
    Beate Lønn answered with the weary sigh of an old man: ‘There’s always something not quite right.’
    Then the film was over and the snowstorm swept across the screen.

4
The Echo
    ‘S NOW? ’
    Harry shouted into his mobile phone as he hurried along the pavement.
    ‘Yes, really,’ Rakel said over a bad line from Moscow. This was followed by a hissy echo: ‘. . . eally.’
    ‘Hello?’
    ‘It’s freezing here . . . ere. Inside and outside . . . ide.’
    ‘And in the court?’
    ‘Well below freezing there, too. When we lived here, his mother even said I should take Oleg away. Now she’s sitting with the others and sending me such hateful scowls . . . owls.’
    ‘How’s the case going?’
    ‘How should I know?’
    ‘Well. First of all, you studied law. Secondly, you speak Russian.’
    ‘Harry. In common with 150 million Russians I don’t understand a thing about the legal system here, OK? . . . kay?’
    ‘OK. How’s Oleg taking it?’
    Harry repeated his question without getting an answer and held up the display to see if he had lost the connection, but the seconds onthe conversation timer were ticking away. He put the phone to his ear again.
    ‘Hello?’
    ‘Hello, Harry, I can hear you . . . oooh. I miss you so . . . ohh. What’s with the ha ha? . . . aah.’
    ‘There’s an echo on the line. Lots of oohs, ohs and aahs.’
    Harry had reached the main door, pulled out a key and unlocked the hall entrance.
    ‘Do you think I’m too pushy, Harry?’
    ‘Of course not.’
    Harry nodded to Ali, who was trying to manoeuvre a kicksled through the cellar door. ‘I love you. Are you there? I love you! Hello?’
    Harry looked up from the dead phone in bewilderment and noticed his Pakistani neighbour’s beaming smile.
    ‘Yes, yes, you, too, Ali,’ he mumbled as he laboriously tapped in Rakel’s number again.
    ‘Call register,’ Ali said.
    ‘Hey?’
    ‘Nothing. Tell me if you want to let your cellar room. You don’t use it much, do you?’
    ‘Have I got a storeroom in the cellar?’
    Ali rolled his eyes. ‘How long have you lived here, Harry?’
    ‘I said . . . I love you.’
    Ali gave Harry a searching look. Harry waved goodbye to Ali and gestured that he had got through. He jogged upstairs with the key in front of him like a divining rod.
    ‘That’s it, we can talk now,’ Harry said as he went through the doorway into his sparsely furnished yet tidy two-room flat, bought for a song some time in the nineties when the housing market was rock bottom. Every so often he thought the flat had used up his share of luck for the rest of his life.
    ‘I wish you were here with us, Harry. Oleg misses you, too.’
    ‘Did he say that?’
    ‘He doesn’t need to say it. In that respect, you’re very similar.’
    ‘You, I’ve just told you I love you. Three times. With the neighbour listening. Do you know what that sort of thing does to a man?’
    Rakel laughed. Harry loved her laugh, had done so from the very first moment he heard it. Instinctively, he knew he would do anything to hear it more often. Every day for preference.
    He kicked off his shoes and smiled when he saw the answerphone in the corridor blinking to tell him there was a message. He didn’t need to be psychic to know it was from Rakel earlier in the day. No one else phoned Harry Hole at home.
    ‘How do you know you love me then?’ Rakel cooed. The echo was gone.
    ‘I can feel myself getting hot in the . . . what’s it called?’
    ‘Heart?’
    ‘No, it’s back a bit and under the heart. Kidneys? Liver? Spleen? Yes, that’s the one. I can feel my spleen heating up.’
    Harry wasn’t sure if it was sobbing or laughing he could hear at the other end. He pressed PLAY on the answerphone.
    ‘I hope to be home in two weeks,’ Rakel said on the mobile before being