They ought to rename this dump Hole, Orjan Mjones thinks, as he gets back on the train after spending three hours wandering around the centre and vicinity of Gol. He is fed up with hotels and motels and bars and cafes, especially since none of the people inside them have seen anything of Thorleif Brenden. Durim might be right when he said it would be like looking for the proverbial needle in a haystack. Nor have the other two got anywhere in Fla and Nesbyen. They are on their way to Al and Geilo now. Mjones remembers what Langbein said. The clock is ticking.
He finds an empty seat by the window and updates Durim and Jeton before he rests his head against the wall and weighs up the situation. Brenden might have sat in this very seat. What did he think? What plans did he make?
Mjones rings Flurim Ahmetaj, taking care to speak quietly into the mobile. ‘Have you found out if Number One has friends or relatives or any other links to the area between Fla and Finse?’
‘I haven’t discovered any.’
‘He wasn’t stationed here when he was in the army?’
‘No. He did his military service in Jorstadmoen.’
‘Do a wider search on the guy, check his Facebook profile, see if any of his friends live around here.’
Ahmetaj sighs. ‘We should have wrapped this up two days ago. I have other things to do. If you need my services after today you’ll have to stump up some more dosh.’
‘You’ll carry on working until the job is done. That was the deal.’
‘Yes, and the job you wanted done finished on Thursday. Today is Saturday. So how much extra are you going to pay me?’
Mjones sighs as he shakes his head. ‘Let’s discuss your fee when I’m back. In the meantime I want you to-’
‘No.’
‘What did you say?’
‘“Discuss your fee”? What the hell do you think this is?’
Mjones takes a deep breath. ‘What will it take for you or the three of you to stick with this job until it’s done?’
‘Twenty a day.’
Mjones shakes his head. ‘I’ll give you ten.’
‘Fifteen.’
‘Agreed. But then you had better come up with something useful.’
‘Now, now old man. I’ve got some news for you. I’ve lost the feed at Number Two’s flat. The cops turned up and searched the place. They found the cameras and took them away.’
Mjones ends the call and feels like hurling the mobile against the wall. Soon afterwards they pass Al.
Al. Gol. Where the hell do they get those names from?