The Snowman ( PDFDrive )

Harry’s head shot up like a watchful animal’s. ‘What do you mean by if he had found out?’
‘Fortunately there was no file on Støp. This secretary of Vetlesen’s said they never kept one.’
‘Oh? And why not?’
‘How should I know, Harry. I’m just relieved. We don’t want any more trouble now. Arve Støp, my
God! Be that as it may, from now on Bratt will dog your every step so that she can report to me.’
‘Mm,’ Harry said, nodding to the waitress who set down another glass for him. ‘Hasn’t she already
been informed?’
‘What do you mean?’
‘When she started you told her I would be her ’ Harry stopped in his tracks.
‘Her what?’ Hagen snapped.
Harry shook his head.
‘What’s up? Something wrong?’
‘Nothing,’ Harry said, sinking half the glass in one big gulp and placing a hundred-krone note on
the table. ‘Have a nice evening, boss.’
Hagen sat at the table until Harry had left the restaurant. Only then did he notice that there were no
carbon dioxide bubbles rising in the half-empty glass. He stole a few sidelong glances and put the
glass cautiously to his lips. It tasted tart. Non-alcoholic cider.
Harry walked home through silent streets. The windows of the old, low blocks shone like cats’ eyes
in the night. He felt an urge to speak to Tresko to find out how things were going, but decided to let
him have the night as agreed. He rounded the corner to Sofies gate. Deserted. He was heading for
his block when he caught a movement and a tiny glint. Light reflecting off a pair of glasses.
Someone standing by the line of vehicles parked along the pavement, apparently struggling to open
a car door. Harry knew which cars generally parked at this end of the street. And this car, a blue
Volvo C70, was not one of them.
It was too dark for Harry to see the face clearly, but he could tell from the way the person was
holding his head that he was keeping an eye out for Harry. A journalist? Harry passed the car. In the
wing mirror of another, he glimpsed a shadow flit between the cars and approach from behind.
Without any undue haste Harry slipped his hand inside his coat. Heard the footsteps coming. And
his anger. He counted to three, then turned round. The person behind him froze to the tarmac.
‘Is it me you’re after?’ Harry growled, stepping forward with gun raised. He collared the man,
dragged him sideways, knocking him off balance, and launched himself at him, sending both of
them over the bonnet of a car. Harry pressed his forearm against the man’s throat and thrust the
barrel into one lens of his glasses.
‘Is it me you want?’ Harry hissed.
The man’s answer was drowned by the car alarm going off. The sound filled the whole street. The
man tried to free himself, but Harry had him in a tight grip and he gave up. His head hit the bonnet