Iver Gundersen places another steaming cup of coffee on his desk and sits down. An avalanche of emails has arrived since he last checked, but not one of them is from Nora. They always say hi to each other in the morning, especially if they haven’t spent the night together. He sent her a few lines just before Henning turned up, but she has yet to respond. He guesses she is still sulking and checks his mobile. No messages there either.
He finds her number and lets it ring for a long time, but there is no reply. With a dawning realisation that she may be not only sulking but also mad at him, he decides to leave a message. Before he starts to talk, he glances around, quickly checking that there is no one in the immediate vicinity. He hears the beep at the other end.
‘Hi, it’s me. I wanted to ask you about tonight. If you haven’t got plans I was wondering if you would like to go to the cinema? Or out for a meal somewhere nice? That would be… nice. As I didn’t make it last night and… eh-’
Iver looks up and sees Henning limp out from the lavatories.
‘Eh, okay, call me. Or send me an email. Okay. Take care.’
Iver hangs up just as Henning sits down. Iver looks at him. ‘How did you know Brenden was missing?’ he says.
Henning looks up.
‘You didn’t come to work yesterday,’ Iver continues.
Henning still makes no reply.
‘You also knew that he has a girlfriend and two children, that he is an experienced cameraman, etc. How did you manage to find all that out?’
Henning looks at Iver for a few moments before he says, ‘None of your business.’
‘None of my business?’
‘Do I ever ask you where you get your information from?’
‘No, but-’
‘No, precisely. Why don’t we agree how best to develop this story?’
Iver hesitates before he nods.
‘As far as Tore Pulli is concerned,’ Henning says, ‘the police are awaiting the preliminary autopsy report before they do anything. It’s also too soon for them to take action in respect of Brenden. But we ought to have a chat to TV2.’
‘I know Guri Palme a bit,’ Iver says. ‘I could try to speak to her.’
Henning looks at him for a couple of long seconds. ‘Okay. I’ll see if I can get hold of Brenden’s family. Unless they’ve already appointed a spokesperson. Everybody does, these days. Do you still have the CD?’
Iver looks around his desk. ‘What about it?’
‘I want to have another look at it.’
‘Okay. But be discreet. I don’t want anyone else seeing it.’
‘Fine. Do we have something we can feed to the monster?’
‘Pulli’s funeral, probably. It’ll be a glorious mix of celebrities and villains.’
‘Yes, but we can’t know in advance who’ll show and we need something now. Plus it would take up a lot of time.’
‘Yes. Stupid idea.’
‘No, we should still go. And if we’re to get to the bottom of this story, there are a couple of people we need to talk to. Kent Harry Hansen is one of them. He is the manager of the gym where Tore Pulli used to go and it’s where most of Pulli’s friends hang out.’
‘Okay. I’ll see if I can get hold of him.’
‘Fine. If you want to talk to him face to face it might be wise to do it away from the gym. They’re not very fond of visits from the press. In fact, it might be a good idea to tread carefully among those guys.’
‘I’ve taken a walk on the wild side before.’
‘Yes, I know. You have that I’m-invincible-because-I’m-a-journalist look. It will vanish once you’ve had your head kicked in.’
Iver scrutinises Henning. ‘I know you’ve just told me it’s none of my business, but how the hell do you know all this? Where Pulli worked out, the kind of people who go there, their names, etc.?’
Henning hesitates. ‘I did a bit of research last night,’ is all he says.
‘Yes, you could say that again.’
Henning shows no sign of wanting to elaborate. Instead he says, ‘If you get hold of Hansen, I’ve got some suggestions as to what you should ask him.’