Now you really must cut this out. For over a week I’ve been patient and waited for you to come up with this ‘explanation’ of yours. I can’t be bothered any longer. I want to be in the clear if any complications crop up concerning this money. DG and several other media outlets have been out to get the Federation for a couple of years now, and sending money at random to people not due to receive it doesn’t exactly look very good. Isn’t that what they call ‘system failure’? I am really furious with the whole lot of you. We skiers are slogging our guts out to produce results year in, year out, and all of you up there in the Crystal Palace can’t even keep the formalities in order. I’m not the only one who’s starting to get really annoyed about all the mess you make. You demand everything from us skiers. That we win. That we think of community and solidarity rather than taking out the rewards that the best of us would actually like as security for the rest of our lives. That’s all very well, but then in return we should have a well-ordered organization. BLOODY HELL, Arnulf! I’m going to tell Bottolf when I meet him. He’s going to Davos at the weekend, but as soon as he’s back I’m letting him know. This was a matter of more than 53,000 kroner. And it was with me for a whole week! What if I hadn’t discovered it? And told you? What would have happened if there had been a sudden inspection of the accounts or something? Typical if it had been one of us athletes who had to take the rap for your sloppiness yet again, just like with Martin and that asthma medicine the Federation was so fucking sure about. It’s just as unprofessional to dish out money to people who’re not due to get it. You’ll be hearing from me. Haakon.

The unknown avenger had hit the bull’s eye. He had discovered what Arnulf was afraid of. In Haakon, the avenger had also found exactly the right piece in a game so ice-cold that Selma caught herself feeling impressed. She was gripped by an irresistible urge to delve deeper into the computer.

She heard sirens in the distance.

It was logical that Arnulf Selhus had needed to get hold of Haakon’s laptop when the twenty-six-year-old died. It had been used to write emails about something that would cost the Director of Finance money, job and career if it came to light. Jan Morell gave people a second chance. Never more than one, as he had made crystal clear to Selma several times in the past week. He would not have been interested in excuses.

But maybe explanations.