We Shall Inherit the Wind Read Online Free PDF Page A

could go down the plug hole.’
    ‘So if Mons doesn’t turn up …’
    She met my eyes again. ‘Talk to Kristoffer,’ she said in a low voice.
    ‘There’s a lot to suggest that I should,’ I said. ‘Can I take this with me?’
    She nodded.
    I found nothing else of immediate interest on his provisional desk. I was given permission to open the drawers of the slim bureau as well, but all I found was a small collection of envelopes of various formats, several floppy disks with labels describing the contents, all of a work nature. Going though each of them would take time and, judging by their appearance, be of doubtful significance. In the bottom drawer I found something which gave me a stab of longing for my own office: half a bottle of aquavit, half full. But it wasn’t my favourite brand. This was Danish and had to be drunk chilled.
    We left everything as it was. I cast a final glance around before leaving. On the wall there was a solitary landscape painting of the kind you inherit from parents with a simple taste in art. I had a couple myself, of Sunnfjord, where my father grew up, neither exactly masterpieces.
    ‘They used this place as living quarters while the cabin was being built, I suppose. Just before the war, I think it was,’ said Brekkhus.
    ‘His parents?’
    ‘No, no. Mons and Lea bought this when Kristoffer was small. Early 70s it must have been.’
    ‘I see.’
    Then we left. The rain had let up. The light haze lay like a silk blanket over the countryside. High above us we glimpsed a white orb, the sun, like a beating heart, , still not strong enough to burst through.
    While Ranveig locked the cabin I stood slightly apart with Brekkhus. ‘Tell me: What do you personally make of this disappearance?’
    ‘Personally?’
    ‘Yes, as a good friend. Do you think something has happened to him?’
    Neither Ranveig nor Karin was within earshot. Nonetheless, he lowered his voice. ‘If you ask me, I think he’ll turn up again. My guess is he went underground – if I can put it like that – to avoid the unpleasant confrontation there might well be on Brennøy at this survey on Wednesday. Or …’
    ‘Yes?’  
    ‘Well … probably to avoid any improper attempts at persuasion.’
    ‘Are you thinking bribes?’
    ‘For example. But it’s impossible to know, of course. Only time will tell.’
    ‘And the mills of time grind slowly. As in Lea’s case.’
    ‘Well, the case was declared closed after a few years.’
    ‘She was declared dead?’
    ‘Yes.’
    He had no more to add. Ten minutes later we were on board the boat and heading back. Brekkhus steered us safely into Feste, where a boat was moored at the quay taking on diesel, with the assistance of the helpful grocer, who checked us over one last time as we got into our cars. He was probably wondering what we were up to on the island. After all, not a lot happened in this area of Nordhordland on Monday mornings in September.
    Before we went our separate ways, I said to Ranveig: ‘Could you ring Kristoffer and warn him I’ll be calling?’
    ‘Will do,’ she answered with a brief smile. ‘Good luck, Varg. I hope you find him before …’
    ‘Before what?’
    ‘Before the meeting on Wednesday.’
    I nodded and smiled encouragingly, but even before I had got into the car the smile was gone and my mind was already churning. Or before it’s too late , I said to myself.
    ‘God knows how I’m going to find him with so little to go on,’ I said to Karin.
    As we negotiated the narrow, winding road to Seim and then took the main road from Mongstad south to Bergen, I barely listened to what she said.
    Before we had reached the roundabout at Knarvik my mobile rang. I gave it to Karin to answer. After a few words she looked at me. ‘It’s Ranveig. Kristoffer’s expecting you at half-past three. Is that OK?’
    I looked at the clock in the car. It read 14.10. ‘So long as there are no unforeseen hold-ups … Tell her I’ll be there.’
    She