Brakstad shook his head. ‘But…’ he started.

‘You can’t be here now,’ Yngve said firmly while glancing out of the windows. More pupils had arrived, and it was impossible for them all to fit under the canopy over the entrance. So they just stood there in the rain, alarms and questions written all over their faces.

‘Can I get my coat first?’ Brakstad asked. ‘It’s freezing out there.’

Yngve looked at the clouds of steam pouring from the students’ mouths, then instantly evaporating. ‘Be quick about it,’ he said.

Brakstad hurried away and returned a minute later. Again he tried to see what was going on at the end of the staircase, but Yngve put a hand on his shoulder and led him towards the exit. Tic-Tac opened the door. The noise from the thunderous rain made Yngve raise his voice: ‘I’ll find you later.’

Brakstad turned and shot him another quizzical look. ‘I’m going to need help,’ Yngve continued. ‘With information, first and foremost. We just have to get a grip on the situation first.’

He then turned to the students: ‘Go home, please. There won’t be any school today.’

‘What’s going on?’ one of the boys nearest the entrance asked.

‘Please, just go home,’ Yngve pleaded. ‘You’re making it harder for us to do our job.’

But neither the boy nor any of the other children made any attempt to leave. Instead they began to throw questions at both Yngve and the principal.

Yngve didn’t reply. He simply closed the door and addressed Tic-Tac: ‘You didn’t tell me about your door.’

‘Hm?’

‘The door on the other side of the school.’

‘Oh. That.’

He laughed nervously. ‘I didn’t think to mention that.’

‘Really. Is it connected to the alarm system?’

‘Um, no.’

‘So … when I asked you about other exit possibilities, you didn’t think to mention a door you probably use on a daily basis?’

‘I’m the only one with a key,’ he said in a quiet voice.

‘Apparently the principal has one, too.’

‘Oh yes, that’s true. I forgot about that.’

‘You forgot about that too,’ Yngve said with a sigh. ‘Is there anything else you’ve forgotten to tell me, Tic-Tac?’

He thought about that for a few seconds. ‘I left my door open last night.’

‘You did?’

‘Yes, Imo asked me to.’

‘Imo. You mean Ivar Morten Tollefsen?’

‘That’s right. He said there might be a lot to do after the show, and he didn’t want to trigger the alarm when he left. You know, standing ovations, people to talk to afterwards. The local press, even. I said it was OK, as long as he didn’t spread the word. Imo is a good man. I’ve known him for twenty-odd years. I trust him.’

‘Why didn’t you just give him your key?’