Harry Hole Oslo Sequence 10 - Police

sorted itself out. And she had begun to sleep. Deep sleep without any dreams she could remember, until she was woken by him slipping out of bed in the morning light, thinking as usual she didn’t notice, and as usual she pretended she didn’t notice because she knew how proud and happy he would be if he thought she had only woken up when he coughed and stood there with a breakfast tray in his hands.
    Oleg had given up trying to keep in rhythm with Mendelssohn and the organist now, and it made no difference to Rakel, she had to take two steps for his one anyway. They had decided that Oleg would perform a double function. It had felt completely natural as soon as she’d thought about it. Oleg should accompany her to the altar, give her away to Harry and also be best man.
    Harry didn’t have a best man. He had the witness he had first chosen, though. The chair on his side by the altar was empty, but a photo of Beate Lønn had been placed on the seat.
    They were there now. Harry hadn’t let her out of his sight for an instant.
    She had never understood how a man with such a low resting pulse, who could go for days in his own world, almost without speaking and without any need for outside stimulation, could press a switch and was suddenly conscious of everything, every ticking second, every quivering tenth and hundredth of a second. With a calm, husky voice that in very few words could express more emotions, information, astonishment, foolishness and wisdom than all the windbags she had ever met could manage over a seven-course meal.
    And then there were the eyes. Which in their own good-natured, almost bashful, way had this ability to hold your attention, to force you to be there.
    Rakel Fauke was going to marry the man she loved.
    Harry looked at her as she stood there. She was so beautiful he had tears in his eyes. He simply hadn’t expected this. Not that she wouldn’t be beautiful. It was obvious that Rakel Fauke would look amazing in a white bridal gown. He hadn’t expected that he would react in this way. His uppermost thoughts had been that he hoped it wouldn’t take too long and the priest wouldn’t get too spiritual or inspired. And he had imagined that as usual on occasions which called for great emotions, he would become immune, numb, a cold and slightly disappointed observer of other people’s floods of feelings and his own drought. But he had determined that at any rate he would play the role as best he could. After all, he was the one who had insisted on a church wedding. And now here he was, with tears, genuine, big, fat, salty drops, in the corners of his eyes. Harry blinked, and Rakel watched him. Met his gaze. Not with that now-I’m-looking-at-you-and-all-the-guests-can-see-I’m-looking-at-you-and-I’m-trying-to-look-as-happy-as-I-can look.
    It was the look of a teammate.
    Of someone saying we can nail this, you and I. Let’s do it.
    Then she smiled. And Harry discovered that he was smiling too, without knowing which of them had started it. She had started shaking. She was laughing inside and filling up so fast it was only a question of time before the laughter exploded out of her. Solemnity generally had that effect on her. And on him. So, in order not to laugh, she looked over at Oleg. But she got no help there, for the boy looked as if he was going to burst into laughter as well. He just managed to restrain himself by lowering his head and firmly shutting his eyes.
    What a team, Harry thought proudly and focused on the priest.
    The team that had caught the Cop Killer.
    Rakel had understood the text message. Don’t let Oleg see the present . Reasonable enough for Arnold Folkestad not to become suspicious. Clear enough for Rakel to understand what he wanted. The old birthday trick.
    So, when he entered the house she had embraced him, grabbed what he had stuffed down his belt at the back and then backed away with her hands in front of her so that Arnold couldn’t see that she was holding something. She was holding a loaded Odessa with the safety catch off.
    What was more worrying was that even Oleg had understood. He had stayed quiet, knowing he mustn’t ruin what was looming. Which could only mean that he had never fallen for the birthday trick, and he had never let on. What a team.
    What a team, coaxing Arnold Folkestad into moving towards Harry and leaving Rakel behind him, so that she could step forward and, at close quarters, fire a shot through Folkestad’s temple as he was