Maybe someone had spoken to the press all the same.

Maybe there were journalists who knew about it, but had never managed to break the story. Selma tapped a speedy text message and sent it off.

‘What was that?’ Jan asked.

‘Just some practical details. What could Sølve actually be after?’

‘What?’

‘Sølve Bang. Why is he so keen on this business with the tube in the air vent? He always rushes to the defence of the Federation. Good grief, he so often behaves as if he owns Norwegian cross-country skiing. Now he’s even about to publish the definitive history book on the subject. If he felt evidence existed that Hege had cheated, why does he regard it as his mission to drag it into the public eye?’

‘No idea. Sense of justice, perhaps.’

He sniffed and drained his glass in one last mouthful.

‘Not that he appears to be especially honourable, exactly. As far as Sølve Bang is concerned, it’s all about Sølve Bang. No one else.’

‘Spot on. Previously, when he went to war in defence of the Federation, it was just as much out of self-interest. Does he have anything to gain from all the brouhaha that’s being stirred up now? I mean with Hege, with Haakon, and with the IOC who might decide to exclude us …’

Her eyes narrowed as she turned into the room again.

‘There’s something strange going on here …’

‘There’s something strange about this whole situation.’

He gave a loud, protracted yawn, without covering his mouth.

‘I must get home.’

‘We’ll never move any further forward until we find a motive.’

‘We’ve found a whole heap of possible motives,’ he said, getting to his feet and pressing a button on his mobile phone. ‘That’s exactly the problem. My driver will be ready in ten minutes. Sorry but I don’t have time for a detour to Grünerløkka.’

‘We haven’t found many motives, Jan. Strictly speaking, we’ve only found two. One is that someone wants to destroy the careers of Hege and Haakon, either together or individually. The other is that someone wants to ruin the Norwegian Cross-Country Skiing Federation. What if this is all about something else entirely? What if …’

‘You can get to the bottom of that,’ he broke in. ‘This wager of ours isn’t going in your favour at the moment.’

He opened the door and looked at her.

Selma had never quite made up her mind whether she liked Jan Morell or not. As a client he was pleasant enough. Open to advice, but with firm opinions. Smart at distinguishing between what he could force through and what he had to leave to her discretion. A prompt payer. When he exposed her, he was hard as nails. But also unexpectedly considerate, she had to admit. He could have sent the case straight to the police, and Selma would have been convicted as soon as she set foot in court. Instead he had chosen a punishment it was possible for her to go on living with. Only just, admittedly, but all the same. Jan Morell could be direct, bordering on brutal, in his dealings with other people, but he was also a benefactor, without showing off about it. After several years’ acquaintance, and a few days of a kind of fateful union, she had however never seen him express love, or even any particular warmth, towards anyone except his daughter.