‘Well, not as fucking awful as me, anyway,’ he muttered inaudibly as he closed the door behind him and left Sølve Bang to sit alone in the spacious conference room which King Harald – in person – had honoured with the name ‘Golden Girls’.

THE BET

‘It’s not connected,’ Selma said, pointing at the black TV screen. ‘I haven’t seen the news for ages.’

‘Well, you have a mobile.’

As Jan Morell scanned around, his expression looked as if he was standing in the midst of a landfill site. His previously narrow nose turned into a straight line.

Selma sat down on the cheese puff settee and made a gesture of invitation to indicate he should do likewise. He remained standing.

‘It’s about Hege,’ he said without making any comment on the apartment apart from a look that continued to scour the room. ‘She’s failed a drugs test.’

‘What?’

‘Anti-Doping Norway claims she’s somehow taken Clostebol. Of course, she hasn’t.’

‘Clostebol?’ Selma repeated. ‘That’s an anabolic steroid, as far as I recall?’

‘Yes, one I knew nothing about. Until three days ago. It’s obviously a misunderstanding. A mistake. Sabotage, at worst. That’s what I want you to find out.’

‘Me?’

She picked up a yellow cushion and put it behind her back before continuing.

‘You’ve given me a deadline of Monday, Jan. This Monday! I was at the bank this afternoon, so that’s already taken care of. Thirteen million kroner have been returned to your account. You’ll just have to wait for the last three. I quite simply can’t cough up any more. Give me two years for that part. I’ll also hand in my licence to practise law, as you’ve demanded. On Monday. If you think I can get to the bottom of something as complicated and serious as a drugs charge by that time, then you overestimate me.’

‘You can work without a licence.’

‘As a lawyer?’

Selma smiled joylessly, pulled out the cushion from behind her back and punched it lightly before clutching it to her chest. It had grown noticeably colder in the last hour.

‘No,’ Jan Morell said tersely, now at least turning to face her.

Until now he had been speaking into thin air. Now he sought eye contact.

‘You can never have access to other people’s money, Selma. We’ve discussed that. You can’t have a licence to practise law with your … predilection. The matter is over and done with.’

‘Then I can’t help you.’

‘Not me. You can help Hege. And you’ll do it as a consultant. Working for me.’

Selma felt her pulse race. She breathed more quietly, concentrating, and regained control.

‘That’s sheer madness, Jan. We have an agreement. One: I pay back the money.’

She used the fingers of her right hand to count on her left.

‘Two: I hand back my licence to practise law. Three: I must never gamble again. Nothing. At all. The quid pro quo is that you don’t report me. Quite a …’