‘I don’t know,’ I said, holding the unfolded sheet in my hand.

It was a lie. I was just not sure what it meant. This anonymous salutation was the first incontrovertible sign that there was a connection between the three deaths – or at the very least between Harry Kløve’s and Johnny Solheim’s. Ingeborg Kløve 221had just informed me that Harry received a picture of an angel in the post – and then died. Now it turned out that Johnny had received a picture of an angel in the post – and had then died.

And that wasn’t all. They had called themselves The Harpers; later Harpegjengen. There had been four of them. When Johnny received this letter, two of them had already been crossed off and the third – circled in red – was the next in line.

And now – now there was only one left.

222

30

I left Bente Solheim after telling her to call Vegard Vadheim at once and inform him about the anonymous letter.

Down in the street, my car was waiting. No one had placed any secret messages under a windscreen wiper and the street looked as deserted and abandoned as before.

I had a feeling of numbed nerves in my stomach, as though I could discern a pattern of behaviour I had no control over because almost everything had already happened and the next move lay in the invisible adversary’s hand. It was like playing simultaneous chess blindfold when you were barely the local Ludo champion.

I drove down to the closest telephone box, inserted the requisite coins and waited impatiently for Jakob to answer.

When I heard Petter’s voice I felt a sinking in my stomach. ‘Th-this is V-veum. Isn’t your father at home?’

‘Yes, he is. Just a moment,’ he said as if it were the simplest thing in the world. My senses were reeling. I lowered my shoulders and slowly breathed out.

Then Jakob was there. ‘Hello? Varg? What’s up?’

‘Listen, Jakob. I have a serious question.’

‘Yes?’

I hesitated.

‘Are you there?’ He sounded impatient.

‘Yes, sorry. I had a frog in my throat.’ I coughed. ‘Tell me, have you received any strange letters recently?’223

‘Strange letters? No. What sort?’

‘An anonymous letter with angel stickers on.’

‘Angel stickers? What do you mean?’

‘You know, those small stickers with angel motifs that kids put in albums, the ones you get at Sunday school if you’ve been a good boy.’

‘No, Varg.’ He didn’t appear to be taking me very seriously. ‘I haven’t. Actually, it’s quite a long time since I went to Sunday school.’

‘Good. If you do receive anything like that, contact the police at once. Or me. At any rate, do something.’

‘But … you sound so nervous, Varg. Has something happened? Has anyone else received this kind of letter?’

‘Yes, but … I’ll explain later. And Jakob, don’t laugh, but whenever you go out, and wherever you go, keep your eyes peeled. You know what happened to Johnny.’