We Shall Inherit the Wind Read Online Free PDF

confirmed the arrangement, chatted for a while and then rang off.
    As we drove onto Nordhordland Bridge the sun was beginning to break through the cloud. Stout beams of white sunshine fell diagonally across Byfjord, the contours of a colossal construction, erected to hold in place the safest source of energy known to man, provided that it kept burning.
    I dropped Karin in Fløenbakken, after kissing her lightly on the lips and arranging a late dinner, then I drove on to Ytre Laksevåg and my first real engagement of the case so far.

5
    The main office of Mæland Real Estate AS was on the outskirts of the new industrial estate at Janaflaten, due south of Sotra Bridge. The estate was still being built, and the signposting left something to be desired. The massive, grey concrete building was divided between various companies, and an in-depth study of the information board in the empty collective vestibule was required to establish where the office was.
    The staircase had corner windows from floor to ceiling and a magnificent view of the main road from the south, and the islands and sea beyond. The grey clouds from earlier in the day were being swept away by a strong northerly wind, and in the distance there was a clear line of blue sky, like a silken membrane on the horizon. It promised improved weather in the days to come. But you could never be completely sure. Behind the sky the clouds are always grey, as we say in our part of the country.
    After a few abortive jaunts I finally found my way to the sign proclaiming in big letters that I had arrived at Mæland Real Estate AS. I opened the heavy, blue door to the offices, where I was met by a smiling young lady with large glasses, fair hair, a grey-flecked black jacket and white blouse. She was sitting at a minimalistic desk and looked as though she had spent the whole of her life waiting for me to come through the door.
    ‘I have an appointment with Kristoffer Mæland. The name’s Veum.’
    She smiled brightly. ‘I have that down here,’ she said, nodding to the computer, which, along with the keyboard, filled the majority of her desk. ‘Kristoffer’s expecting you.’ From the use of the Christian name I inferred that this was a young, dynamic atmosphere.
    ‘Sorry,’ I said, putting on an apologetic face and consulting my watch. ‘I had some difficulty finding the way here.’
    ‘Everyone does,’ she said lightly and with a consoling smile. ‘It’ll all be sorted by spring.’
    ‘Not before?’
    ‘Well, everything comes to him who …’
    ‘… laughs longest.’
    She seemed to find this droll and made a clucking sound, then showed me into the brightly lit corridor, to a glass cage with a view, containing a desk of much more generous proportions than her own and a suite of sofas where a young man was flicking through a file. When he saw us he put down the file, got up and nodded.
    The secretary opened his door and said: ‘This is Varg Veum.’
    ‘Thank you very much,’ I said, passing her on my way in. She smelt of lily of the valley, which never failed to attract me, even though I knew how poisonous they were. Then she closed the door behind me and I greeted Kristoffer Mæland.
    Since I had neither met his mother nor his father it was impossible to say whether he resembled either of them. He was roughly my height and had fair, curly hair cut close to the scalp. His face was broad, his smile measured, and his eyes were blue. His clothes were both practical and elegant: a dark jacket, blue jeans and a white shirt open at the neck.
    He pointed to a chair and sat down opposite me, across a massive piece of glass. ‘Ranveig said I had to talk to you.’
    ‘Did you have to be persuaded?’
    He sent me a chill look. ‘My father’s gone off for a few days. No reason to make a big drama out of this.’
    ‘Has it happened before?’
    He shrugged. ‘I don’t have a complete overview of what goes on in their marriage.’
    ‘But there is friction?’
    ‘No more