Selma glanced up at him with increasing astonishment. He hadn’t yet mentioned the mobile phone, tramlines, the CIA or a headache. Standing there with the crotch of his underpants almost reaching down to his knees, his ear flaps dangling and his beard sticking out in all directions, he looked exactly like what he was.

A raving lunatic.

Now and again she mentioned some of her cases to him. Anonymized, of course, and in a fairly superficial way. More or less to have something to talk about, especially when he was having one of his bad days and she wasn’t feeling particularly chatty herself. He always showed interest, but was usually some-what distant and measured. Except for when she told him about criminal cases. In the last five or six years she had practically wound up that side of her portfolio. The occasional old client might receive Selma’s assistance, however, and these cases set Einar on fire. He became focused, full of questions and suggestions, and completely forgot that he was being bugged wherever he went or waited.

She had never seen him like this before.

‘The conclusion is?’

He stared at her with one finger raised and his ear half-turned towards her.

‘That no one is out to get her as a skier,’ Selma said.

‘Spot on! Then this is the question we have to ask: is anyone out to get her as a person?’

Selma opened her mouth but Einar beat her to it by answering himself.

‘Hege Chin Morell has no enemies. No angry, rejected lovers. She is popular with her teammates, and not only because she’s a good training pal. I’ve cut a few things from the newspapers this past week …’

He crouched down towards a plastic bag and pulled up a substantial bundle of newspaper articles. It looked more like they had been torn out rather than actually cut.

‘They like her, Mariska. They call her a gem. Honest and straightforward.’

‘Those very words are not the sort of thing young people …’

‘Whatever! You know what I mean.’

He waved the papers in triumph.

‘Hege Chin Morell is well liked. She is honest, fair, and considerate. A good winner. On the rare occasions she loses, she handles that well too. This past week, every single sports editor in the country has tried to dig up dirt on Hege. They haven’t found a single thing. Quite simply because she doesn’t have any foes. Not a single one.’

‘So nobody was out to get Hege,’ Selma said slowly, with the suggestion of a question mark at the end.

‘No. And you’ve really known that for a couple of days. The problem is that you’re not used to being so uncertain. You don’t trust your own judgment.’

‘But someone may be out to stop the Norwegian Cross-Country Skiing Federation. Or to harm them. Tarnish them.’