‘From what I’m told, alcohol isn’t a primary source of revenue for the OP. I assume you prefer providing poor, innocent restaurant owners with so-called protection, assault, blackmail, laundering money through greyhound racing and whatever else. But I don’t believe you have the logistical capacity to fence malt whiskey. Am I right so far?’

‘I could possibly concede your last point,’ Odd says and takes a sip of his beer. Then he wipes the foam from his moustache and grabs a fistful of peanuts. He tilts his head back, throws them into his mouth and wipes the salt off on his trousers.

‘So Gabriel is stealing on his own initiative,’ she says. ‘And I’d wager he saves some for himself and sells the rest for what must be a decent profit. Maybe he even sells to some of the bars in Dunker and Ravenby. A way to make some extra money, simply put.’

Odd watches her with an amused expression, still chewing his peanuts, and Karen presses on.

‘The mark on the Groth’s warehouse wall does suggest, though, that the OP are involved somehow and that you had reason to make it clear to the Groths this isn’t the time to start acting up.’

Odd Eiken stops chewing for a moment and gives Karen a look of what seems to be genuine surprise.

‘What fucking mark?’ he says.

‘What do you think? The number one followed by a per cent sign. Even I know that’s what you guys use to mark your territory. I’ve even seen it once or twice outside bars down in Dunker.’

Odd leans back, sighs and says in a tone a person might use with a small child.

‘OK, Karen, let’s say such a mark exists – which I’m not saying it does. It sounds like that would be used for territorial marking, as you say, something to encourage the Russians and Baltics to steer clear. How many of them have you seen up here on Noorö?’

‘Let’s say I buy that,’ Karen says, firmly holding her cousin’s gaze. ‘That would hardly keep an individual member from using the mark to bully people. Maybe to warn someone who was onto him or making trouble. Maybe someone who was threatening to go to the police. Hypothetically speaking, of course.’

Odd Eiken raises his eyebrows and pulls the corners of his mouth down, making a face that suggests anything’s possible. Karen takes a long sip of her ale.

‘Shall we continue?’ she says.

‘Sure. Just don’t forget that we’re still talking hypothetically. The OP isn’t involved in any criminal activities; we’re just a bunch of guys who like hogs, that’s it.’

Karen lets out a snort of laughter.