Death in Oslo by Anne Holt Read Free Book Online

the hell . . .’ Adam whispered and sat down on the arm of the sofa.
    ‘Shhh . . .’
    ‘We have people at and near the main hospitals,’ the reporter continued, breathless, ‘where President Bentley would have been taken if her absence was due to . . . health reasons. However, there is nothing, and I repeat
nothing
, to indicate any form of extraordinary activity in the hospitals at this point. No obvious security measures, no unusual traffic, nothing. And—’
    ‘Harald! Harald Hansen!’
    ‘I can hear you, Christian!’
    ‘I’m afraid I’m going to have to interrupt you there, as we have just got . . .’
    The picture switched back to the studio. Johanne couldn’t remember ever seeing a newsreader being physically handed a script in the studio. The courier’s arm was caught on camera as the picture came on, and the anchorman fumbled for his glasses, which he hadn’t needed until now.
    ‘We have just received a press release from the Prime Minister’s office.’ He cleared his throat. ‘I will now read . . .’
    Ragnhild suddenly started to howl.
    Johanne backed her way into the corner, where the toddler was screaming like one possessed, with her arms in the air.
    ‘She’s disappeared,’ Adam said, in a trance. ‘My God, the woman has just disappeared.’
    ‘Who’s disappeared?’ Kristiane asked and took his hand.
    ‘No one,’ he replied, almost inaudibly.
    ‘They have,’ Kristiane insisted. ‘You said a lady had disappeared.’
    ‘No one we know,’ he explained, then shushed her.
    ‘Not Mummy, anyway. Mummy’s here. And we’re going to Grandma and Grandad. Mummy will never disappear.’
    Ragnhild calmed down the minute she was in her mother’sarms. She stuck her thumb in her mouth and burrowed her head into the hollow of Johanne’s neck. Kristiane was still standing with her hand in Adam’s, swaying backwards and forwards.
    ‘Dam-di-rum-ram,’ she whispered.
    ‘There’s nothing to worry about,’ Adam said automatically. ‘Nothing dangerous, my sweet.’
    ‘Dam-di-rum-ram.’
    She’s going to close us off, Johanne thought in desperation. Kristiane was shutting everyone out as she did whenever she felt even the slightest bit threatened, or something unexpected happened.
    ‘Everything’s fine, sweetheart.’ She stroked the girl’s hair. ‘And now we’re all going to get ready to go to Grandma and Grandad. We’re still going to see them, you know, just like we planned.’
    But she couldn’t pull her eyes from the TV screen.
    The scene was being filmed from the air now, from a helicopter slowly circling over the centre of Oslo. The camera moved up the main drag, Karl Johan, from the Storting to the palace, at a snail’s pace.
    ‘Over a hundred thousand people,’ Adam whispered, as he stood entranced. He didn’t even notice when Kristiane let go of his hand. ‘Maybe twice as many. How on earth are they going . . .?’
    Kristiane was now banging her head against a cupboard in the corner of the room. She had taken her clothes off again.
    ‘The lady’s disappeared,’ she hummed. ‘Dam-di-rum-ram. The lady’s gone.’
    Then she started to cry, silently and inconsolably.

IV
    A bdallah al-Rahman was full. He stroked his firm stomach. For a short while he considered waiting to do his training. He had really eaten a bit too much. On the other hand, he had a lot to do for the rest of the day. If he didn’t train now, the danger was that there wouldn’t be time later. He opened the door to the big gym. The cool air was like a soothing breath on his face. He carefully closed the door before getting undressed. Then he stood there, barefoot as usual, and pulled on a large pair of white shorts. He started the treadmill. Slow to begin with, a forty-five-minute interval programme. That would leave him half an hour for weights. Not what he would normally do, or a prospect that he relished, but it was better than nothing.
    He had of course received nothing. No confirmation, no coded