The Snowman ( PDFDrive )

‘I mean ’ Bjørn Holm went on, trying to articulate what he meant. ‘In a worst-case scenario would
I shoot a colleague?’
‘In the worst-case scenario,’ Harry said, ‘a colleague would shoot you. Ready?’
The young forensics officer from Skreia nodded and promised himself that if this went well he
would wear bloody hair oil.
Harry silently prodded the door open with his foot and went in. He felt the current of air at once.
The draught. He reached the first door to the right and grabbed the handle with his left hand as he
pointed the revolver. Pushed the door open and went in. It was a study. Empty. Over the desk hung
a large map of Norway with pins stuck in it.
Harry walked back into the hall where Holm was waiting for him. Harry motioned to Holm to keep
his revolver raised the whole time.
They moved through the apartment with stealth.
Kitchen, library, fitness room, conservatory, guest room. All empty.
Harry felt the temperature drop. And as they came into the living room he saw why. The sliding
door to the terrace and pool was wide open; white curtains flapped nervously in the wind. On either
side of the room ran narrow pathways, each leading to a door. Harry pointed to Holm to take the
door on the right while he took up position in front of the other.
Harry breathed in, huddled up to make the target as small as possible and opened.
In the darkness he could make out a bed, white linen and something that might have been a body.
His left hand groped for a switch inside the door.
‘Harry!’
It was Holm.
‘Over here, Harry!’
Holm’s voice was excited, but Harry turned a deaf ear and concentrated on the darkness in front of
him. His hand found the switch and the next moment the room was bathed in light from overhead
spots. It was empty. Harry checked the cupboards, then left. Holm stood outside the other door with
his gun pointing in the room.
‘He’s not moving,’ Holm whispered. ‘He’s dead. He ’
‘Then you needn’t have called me so urgently,’ Harry said, walking to the bath, bending over the
naked man and removing the pig mask. A thin, red stripe ran around his neck, his face was pale and
swollen and his eyes were bulging out from beneath the eyelids. Arve Støp was barely recognisable.
‘I’ll ring the Crime Scene people,’ Holm said.
‘Hang on.’ Harry held a hand in front of Støp’s mouth. Then he took the editor’s shoulder and
shook him.