Burned by Thomas Enger Read Free Book Online Page A

rings the bell again. This time she gets a response.
    “Hello?”
    “Hello. This is the police. Open the door, please.”
    Brogeland relishes Sandland’s juicy accent.
    “Police?”
    Brogeland registers a hint of reluctance and fear in the voice. That’s not Marhoni, he thinks, Marhoni is a tough nut.
    “Yes, the police.”
    Sandland’s sexy voice is more authoritative now.
    “W-why?”
    “Police? Don’t let them in!”
    The voice in the background is loud enough for Brogeland and Sandland to hear it.
    “Open up!”
    Sandland raises her voice. Brogeland snaps out of his fantasy and pushes down the door handle. He has noticed that the lock has been vandalized, and he stomps inside with Sandland right behind him. They race up the stairs to the elevated ground floor. Brogeland can hear someone fiddling with the lock, but he gets there first, his superb physical fitness pays off, and he tears open the door.
    A man, whom he instantly guesses must be Marhoni’s brother, gives him a frightened look; Brogeland ignores him, thinking that at any moment he could be staring straight into the mouth of a pistol. He moves swiftly and noiselessly, he checks the flat, there is a smell of herbs, of cannabis, he opens a door, a kitchen, it’s empty, he continues, a bedroom, no, no one there, either; he is in the living room, and that’s when he sees it, the fireplace, someone has lit a fire; however, it’s not the flames which disconcert him, but what the flames are consuming with such greed that he is taken aback for a moment, it’s a computer, a laptop, he calls out to Sandland to save it and he will go after Marhoni, he hears how his voice is rich with power, with experience, knowledge, guts, authority, everything you need to make on-the-spot decisions. Sandland responds just as Brogeland spots Marhoni trying to escape out of a window in one of the rooms accessible through the living room. Marhoni gets ready, then he jumps. Brogeland soon reaches the window, looks down before he climbs up, realizes the drop is less than two meters, jumps, lands softly and looks around, spots Marhoni, and chases after him. You’ll be sorry you did that, he thinks, you idiot, absconding from your flat the very day your girlfriend is found murdered, how do you think it’s going to look, you moron?
    Brogeland knows it will be an easy race to win. Marhoni keeps looking over his shoulder, and every time Brogeland gains a few meters on him. Marhoni runs across the junction where Bispegata crosses Oslovei, without waiting for a green light. A car brakes right in front of him and sounds its horn. Brogeland pursues him. In the background, he can hear the tram, dring-dring ; there are cars in the street, people behind windows following the chase with interest, probably wondering what on earth is going on, is someone making a film or is it the real thing? Marhoni turns around, then he runs straight ahead. Brogeland thinks Marhoni must want an audience or he would have fled in the direction of Aker Church. Brogeland is only ten meters behind Marhoni now and he is constantly gaining on him. He catches up with him and throws himself at him. They land on the tarmac outside Ruinen Bar & Café.
    Marhoni breaks his fall and Brogeland is unhurt. There is a man sitting outside the café, smoking. He watches as Brogeland sits on Marhoni’s back, pinning back his arms, before he calls in for assistance.
    “Nineteen, this is Fox Forty-Three Bravo, over.”
    He gets his breath back, while he waits for a response.
    “Nineteen responding, over.”
    “This is Fox Forty-Three Bravo, I’m in St. Hallvard’s Square, I’ve arrested a suspect and I require assistance. Over.”
    He breathes out and looks at Marhoni, who is gasping for air. Brogeland shakes his head.
    “Bloody idiot,” he mutters to himself.

12
    Westerdals School of Communication is situated on Fredensborgvei, close to St. Hanshaugen. As always, when he finds himself in this part of Oslo, he thinks