The Lion's Mouth by Anne Holt Read Free Book Online Page B

Private Secretary from the Prime Minister’s office was an older woman who chafed strenuously against the fact that she would be turning seventy in two months’ time. Several times during the previous night she had caught herself having the objectionably egotistical thought that this incident might mean the postponement of her pensioner status for perhaps a year.
    “Otto B. Halvorsen …” she began, slipping a pair of reading glasses on to her narrow, angular face. “He passed away on 23rd May, 1923. He and Peder Ludvig Kolstad are the only ones to have died while in post as Prime Minister. So we do in a sense have precedents to follow. I can’t see any reason why we should handle this case differently.”
    This case … Finance Minister Tryggve Storstein felt a strong surge of irritation, bordering on rage. This was no “case”. This concerned the dreadful fact that Birgitte Volter was dead.
    Tryggve Storstein was basically quite a good-looking man. He had regular features that made life difficult for the cartoonists, short dark hair that showed no sign of receding, even though he was approaching fifty, and anxious, downcast eyes that sometimes made him look sad even when he was smiling. His North European nose was straight, and his mouth sometimes had an undeniably sensual quiver to it when he spoke. However, Tryggve Storstein did not make a big deal out of his appearance. Perhaps this was down to his upbringing in Storsteinnes in Troms County, or maybe it was that he had practically been born into the party. In any case, he had the peculiar trait that ill-tempered right-wingers ascribed to every former member of the AUF, the youth wing of the Labor movement: he was ever so slightly tacky. Although his clothes hung well on his athletic frame, they never looked quite right. Were never really tasteful. The dark suits were too dark, and everything else came from the Dressmann chain store. Now he was wearing a brown “tweed” jacket of synthetic material, black trousers and brown shoes. He was upset, and tinkered with a pen he continually pressed in and out. Click-click. Click-click.
    “Of course, Otto B. Halvorsen died after a short illness,” the Senior Private Secretary continued, glancing with irritation in Storstein’s direction over her spectacle rims. “So people had time to prepare themselves to some extent. That probably came in handy when Peder Kolstad died suddenly following a thrombosis in March 1932. The same procedure was followed then. In any case, the Foreign Minister takes over the post of Prime Minister on a temporary basis, until the government resigns. That can happen as soon as a new government is ready. Until then, the present government functions as a caretaker administration.”
    She pursed her lips momentarily, which made her look like a bespectacled mouse.
    “That is to say, it deals only with current issues. I have prepared a memorandum …”
    She gave a peremptory signal to a woman who had just entered the room. Standing beside the coffee table near the door, the woman seemed extremely uneasy. At the sign from her superior, she moved rapidly around the oval table, issuing each of the Cabinet ministers with three booklets.
    The Senior Private Secretary continued: “… that explains what can be considered ‘current issues’. Mainly they are issues that cannot be said to commit the next government in any way. The appointment of judges, for example …”
    Looking up from the paper in front of her, she sought eye contact with the Justice Minister, but he was gazing at the ceiling, his eyes fixed on the tiny halogen lamps that for the moment resembled planets in an alien universe.
    “… must be put on hold. Well. Everything is detailed in the papers. We are at your disposal to answer questions twenty-four hours a day.”
    The Senior Private Secretary tapped the papers in front of her and looked at the Foreign Minister with a forced smile.
    “Thanks,” he mumbled, coughing.
    He was