When Anders tasted the lumps in the water and said that they tasted of egg, I knew it was blood. And that something terrible had happened.’ Anders Nygård’s mouth fell open. He went suddenly very pale under his tan. ‘Bon appetit,’ Harry mumbled and left.
She asked the checkout girl for a pack of 20 Prince Mild cigarettes. ‘Thought you were trying to give them up.’ Vibeke turned round in surprise, scrutinised him and gave him three different smiles. The first one, fleeting, automatic. Then one of recognition. Then, after she had paid, one of curiosity. ‘And you’re going to have a party, I see.’ She put her purchases into a plastic bag. ‘Something like that,’ Harry mumbled, reciprocating her smile. She tilted her head to the side. The zebra stripes moved. ‘Many guests?’ ‘A few. All uninvited.’ The checkout girl handed him his...
‘It’s not my case,’ he said. ‘Right.’ Vibeke Knutsen nodded her head. Then she began to smile. ‘And do you know what?’ ‘What?’ ‘Actually, it’s probably a good thing too.’ It took a couple of seconds before Harry realised what she meant. He laughed. The laugh developed into a hacking cough.
The enemy below was pulling and tugging at the chains, the dogs were snarling up at him from the pit, somewhere in his stomach beneath his heart. God, how he hated them. He hated them as much as they hated him. Harry got to his feet. He had stashed away half a bottle of Bell’s in the filing cabinet on Monday. Had that just occurred to him now or had he been aware of it the whole time? Harry was used to Harry playing tricks on Harry in hundreds of ways.