The Snowman ( PDFDrive )

facades in Aker Brygge. He trod water with legs that could no longer feel while confirming to
himself that Katrine had not even underestimated him; he had fallen for one of the oldest tricks in
the book. And for a moment of madness he considered death by drowning; it was supposed to be
pleasant.
It was four o’clock in the morning and on the bed in front of Harry, wearing a dressing gown, sat a
trembling Arve Støp. The tan seemed to have been sucked from his complexion, and he had shrunk
into an old man. But his pupils had regained their normal size.
Harry had taken a boiling hot shower and seated himself in a chair, wearing a sweater from Holm
and tracksuit bottoms he had borrowed off Støp. In the living room they could hear Bjørn Holm
trying to organise the hunt for Katrine Bratt via a mobile phone. Harry had told him to contact the
Incident Room to put out a general alert; the police at Gardemoen Airport in case she attempted to
take one of the early morning flights; and the Special Forces Unit, Delta, to raid her flat, even
though Harry was fairly sure that they wouldn’t find her there.
‘So you think this was not just a sex game but Katrine trying to kill you?’ Harry asked.
‘Think?’ Støp said with chattering teeth. ‘She was trying to strangle me!’
‘Mm. And she asked you if you had an alibi for the times of the murders?’
‘For the third time, yes!’ Støp groaned.
‘So she thinks you’re the Snowman?’
‘Christ knows what she thinks. The woman’s obviously off her chump.’
‘Maybe,’ Harry said. ‘But that doesn’t prevent her from having a point.’
‘And what sort of point would that be?’ Støp looked at his watch.
Harry knew that Krohn was on his way and that the solicitor would muzzle his client as soon as he
was there.
He made up his mind and leaned forward. ‘We know that you’re the father of Jonas Becker and
Sylvia Ottersen’s twins.’
Støp’s head shot up. Harry had to take a risk.
‘Idar Vetlesen was the only person who knew. You’re the one who sent him to Switzerland and paid
for the Fahr’s syndrome course he enrolled on, aren’t you. The disease you yourself inherited.’
Harry could see he wasn’t far off the mark by the way Arve Støp’s pupils dilated.
‘It’s my guess Vetlesen told you we were putting the squeeze on him,’ Harry persisted. ‘Perhaps
you were frightened he would crack. Or perhaps he was exploiting the situation to extort favours?
Money, for example.’
The editor stared at Harry in disbelief and shook his head.
‘Nevertheless, Støp, you would obviously have had a lot to lose if the truth about these paternities