Morgenstierne’s death. But I should of course talk to Anders and Trond as well, she said, when I continued to look at her questioningly.
Then, all of a sudden, Kristine Larsen did not want to say anything more. She sat by the table pale, silent and with tears in her eyes. She had been so helpful until this point that I did not feel like pushing her any further, certainly not at the moment. So I did as she said, and drove in the direction of Anders Pettersen’s address.
This group of student activists was starting to interest me more and more. I thought it was more than likely that the group were in some way connected to Marie Morgenstierne’s death and Falko Reinhardt’s disappearance.
VIII
Anders Pettersen did not answer his telephone, but did open the door when I rang the doorbell of his flat near Grefsen. He apologized, explaining that he had just come home from a lecture on non-figurative painting at the Academy of Fine Art, and showed me a timetable that undeniably supported what he said.
This seemed reasonable enough, given that his flat was more or less full of self-signed paintings in a very non-figurative style. I had no idea what any of them were supposed to be, so could not make any comment on their artistic merit.
Anders Pettersen was almost the same height as me, had long dark hair, and was of a more stocky build than Trond Ibsen. It was easy to appreciate that under other circumstances he would appear both charismatic and handsome. Now, however, he seemed very affected by the current situation. He repeated several times that Falko’s disappearance in itself was strange, but after all he was someone who provoked powerful emotions in people and it would be easy enough to understand if he had enemies. But it was completely incomprehensible that anyone might think of killing Marie Morgenstierne. He thought it was possible that the intelligence services, or an opposing political group, might want to attack the group. He was increasingly convinced that that was the explanation for Falko Reinhardt’s disappearance. But the murder of Marie Morgenstierne was inexplicable. If it was in some way related to Falko’s disappearance, why two years later? And if the intent was to strike at the group, why Marie Morgenstierne and not himself or Trond Ibsen?
Anders Pettersen seemed to be an intelligent if somewhat unsystematic thinker who had nothing against the sound of his own voice. Given his extremely radical political views and his agitated state of mind, his line of thought was not entirely unreasonable. But I was more interested in the facts.
Merely saying the name Falko Reinhardt for Anders Pettersen proved to be like pressing a button. He had known Falko since class three at school, and had always regarded him as a kind and wise elder brother. Falko was, for him, Norway’s answer to Che Guevara and a possible future leader on a par with Mao. The reason that he had now informally assumed leadership of the group in Falko’s absence was precisely because he had known Falko the longest, and could thus best imagine what he would have thought.
As for the disappearance itself, Anders Pettersen had little to add to what the others had already told me. He had initially refused to believe that Falko was dead in the period following his disappearance, but gradually the doubt had crept in. It seemed increasingly odd that Falko had not contacted him or the group if he was still alive. Falko might be in a secret American prison camp and unable to get out, but it seemed more and more likely that he had simply been killed. And Anders could imagine no satisfactory explanation of how any hypothetical kidnappers or murderers had managed to get Falko out of the cabin without being noticed.
In contrast to his impassioned response to questions about Falko Reinhardt and Marie Morgenstierne, Anders Pettersen’s reaction to my question about the split between the group and Miriam Filtvedt Bentsen was unexpectedly cool. He