Something occurred to Selma. Her fingers tapped in another search on her mobile.

‘19 September,’ she muttered before raising her voice: ‘The Norwegian Cross-Country Skiing Federation has employed Vibeke Stenshaug as a new assistant national team doctor. “This consolidates our efforts at every level,” commented Bottolf Odda at a press conference, and continued: “Vibeke will contribute to the further professionalization of the medical care provided for our athletes in a steadily more demanding and physically exhausting sport.” My God. They buried the whole foul-up.’

Jan Morell sat bolt upright. Without a word, he crossed the living room to a door. Selma had no idea where it led.

‘You’re phoning no one,’ she said sharply at the top of her voice. ‘Jan! You’re phoning no one, do you hear me!’

He came to a sudden halt.

‘Listen to me,’ she said, rising to her feet. ‘This is a really interesting story. What it has to do with Hege’s case, we’ve no idea as yet. Possibly nothing. But the fact is that we now, only a few hours since you asked me to take a closer look at what might have happened, have stumbled upon something highly irregular. This is an ace up our sleeve. If we reveal that we have it, it loses its value.’

‘This case isn’t about Hege,’ he said. ‘It’s about cronyism. It’s about our whole bloody system being based on the idea of protecting one another. So that they can swan around with VIPs and …’

‘Jan!’

Selma took two steps towards him, stopped and spread her arms in a gesture of dismay.

‘You know the Cross-Country Skiing Federation better than me. But I’m a better player, don’t you think?’

As he opened his mouth to answer, with a sharp retort if his expression was anything to go by, she corrected herself loudly: ‘More experienced. I’ve more experience in gambling than you.’

He didn’t answer. Didn’t nod. But at least he stood still.

‘Don’t show our hand, Jan. This is only the first card. We have to collect a few more if we’re to have any chance of winning. Don’t toss this card down on the table just yet.’

After a brief pause, encouraged by the fact that he still hadn’t made a move, she added: ‘Please.’

‘OK. Fine. But now I have to turn in. You can leave now.’

‘Promise me you won’t do anything.’

He murmured something that could be interpreted as a promise, and then he was gone.

At the same moment, Hege wilted.

Cowering on the settee, she sat with her arms tightly curled around her legs and her face partially hidden behind her knees.

Selma couldn’t understand her.