The Snowman ( PDFDrive )

Norwegian ski heroes, Norwegian flags, Norwegian ski grease, Norwegian kings and Norwegian
Crown princesses, all accompanied by succinct texts proclaiming that Norway was one hell of a
nation, and Harry remembered why he had never been able to stomach this museum.
The lift was right at the back. A narrow, enclosed lift. Harry studied the lift door. Felt the cold
sweat on his skin. There was a steel staircase next to it.
Eight landings later he regretted his decision. Dizziness and nausea had returned and he was
retching. The sound of footsteps on metal echoed up and down the flight of stairs, and the handcuffs
dangling from his wrists played iron pipe music against the handrail. His heart ought to have been
pumping adrenalin and preparing his body for action at this point. Perhaps he was too drained, too
spent. Or perhaps he knew it was all over. The game was up, the outcome obvious.
Harry went on. Set his feet down on the steps, didn’t even bother to try to be quiet, knew he had
been heard ages ago.
The staircase led directly to the dark cage. Harry switched off his torch and felt a cold current of air
as soon as his head appeared above the floor. Pale moonlight fell into the room. It was about four
metres square with glass all round and a steel railing that tourists clung onto with a mixture of terror
and joy as they enjoyed the view of Oslo or imagined what it must be like to set off down the in-run
on skis. Or fall off the tower, sink like a stone towards the houses and be smashed between the trees
far below them.
Harry climbed to the top step, turned to the silhouette outlined against the blanket of light which
was the town beneath. The figure was sitting on the railing, framed in the large open window from
where the cold air was flowing.
‘Beautiful, eh?’ Mathias’s voice sounded light, almost cheerful.
‘If it’s the view you mean, I agree.’
‘I didn’t mean the view, Harry.’
One of Mathias’s feet was dangling outside, and Harry was standing by the stairs.
‘Did you or the snowman kill her, Harry?’
‘What do you think?’
‘I think you did it. After all, you’re a clever guy. I was counting on you. Feels dreadful, doesn’t it?
Of course, it’s not so easy to see the beauty then. When you’ve just killed the person you love
most.’
‘Well,’ Harry said, taking a step closer, ‘I don’t suppose you would know much about that, would
you.’
‘Wouldn’t I?’ Mathias leaned his head back against the frame and laughed. ‘I loved the first woman
I killed more than anything else on this earth.’
‘So why did you do it?’ Harry felt a stab of pain as he moved his right hand behind his back and
round the revolver.