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‘I meant the part about everything Våge writing having been in the reports.’ He grabbed the newspaper from the table and read aloud: ‘The police have declined to make public several grotesque details, such as Bertine Bertilsen’s ankle tattoo being cut off and sewn back on again.’ He threw the newspaper back on the table. ‘That has not appeared in any reports!’

‘I should hope not,’ Katrine said. ‘Because it’s simply not the case. Våge is making things up. And surely that’s beyond the bounds of what we can be blamed for, Winter?’

‘Thanks, Anita,’ Harry said, his eyes fixed on the beer the elderly waitress had just put down in front of him.

‘Anyway.’ Anita sighed, as a continuation of something she had thought but not said. ‘It’s nice to see you again.’

‘What’s up with her?’ asked Truls, who had already been sitting at the window table in Schrøder’s when Harry arrived at the agreed time.

‘She doesn’t like serving me,’ Harry said.

‘Then Schrøder’s isn’t the right place to work,’ Truls grunt-laughed.

‘Maybe not.’ Harry lifted the beer. ‘Maybe she just needs the money.’ He brought the glass to his lips and drank while holding Truls’s gaze.

‘What was it you wanted?’ Truls asked, and Harry saw a twitching below one eye.

‘What do you think?’

‘Dunno. Brainstorm again?

‘Maybe. What do you think about this?’ Harry drew Dagbladet from his jacket pocket and placed it in front of Truls.

‘About what?’

‘About what Våge writes about Bertine’s tattoo. That it was cut off and sewn back on.’

‘Think? I think he seems well informed. But that’s his job, I guess.’

Harry sighed. ‘I’m not asking so I can drag this out, Truls. It’s to give you the chance to say it before I do.’

Truls had his hands on the worn tablecloth, one either side of a paper napkin. He hadn’t ordered anything. Didn’t want anything. His hands were red against the white of the napkin, and looked bloated, swollen. As though they would shrink to a pair of gloves if Harry were to stick a pin in them. His forehead had taken on a dark red hue, the colour the devil had in comics.

‘No idea what you’re talking about,’ Truls said.

‘It’s you. You’re the one who’s been feeding Terry Våge.’

‘Me? Are you stupid? I’m not even on the investigation team.’

‘You’re feeding Våge the same as us, you’re reading the reports as soon as they’re on BL96. You were already doing it when I contacted you, so it’s not so strange you said yes to my offer. You’re getting paid double for the same job. And Våge is probably paying you even more now that you’re giving him updates on the Aune group as well.’

‘What the fuck? I haven’t—’

‘Shut up, Truls.’

‘Fuck off! I’m not going to—’

‘Shut up! And sit down!’

The few tables where there were customers had gone quiet. They weren’t staring openly, but looking down into their beer glasses, using their peripheral vision. Harry had placed his hand on Truls’s and was pressing it down so hard on the tabletop that Truls was forced to sit back down. Harry leaned forward and continued in a low voice.

‘Like I said, I’m not going to drag this out, so here it is. I got suspicious when Våge wrote about the investigators speculating if Røed had ordered the killings to look like sex attacks. That was something we’d discussed in the Aune group and is so outside the box that I checked with Katrine if anyone on their team had suggested it. They hadn’t. So I came up with that story about Bertine’s tattoo being sewn back on and told you and only you. Said it was common knowledge at Police HQ, so you’d feel comfortable passing it on without it pointing back to you. And sure enough, Våge had it in print a few hours later. So there you have it, Truls.’

Truls Berntsen stared straight ahead, his face expressionless. Took hold of the paper napkin and crumpled it up, the same way Harry had seen him do with the losing coupon at the racetrack.

‘All right,’ Truls said. ‘So I sold a little info. And you lot can just piss right off, because no damage has been done. Våge has never got anything that could wreck the investigation.’

‘That’s your assessment, Truls, but we’ll drop that discussion for now.’

‘Yes, we will, because I’m off, adios. And you can take that money from Røed and wipe your arse with it.’

‘I told you to sit.’ Harry allowed himself a wry smile. ‘And thanks, but the toilet paper at the Thief is excellent. So soft in fact it makes you want to take a second shit. Have you ever felt it?’

Truls Berntsen didn’t look like he understood the question but remained seated.

‘So here’s your chance to shit on things one more time,’ Harry said. ‘You’re going to tell Våge that your access to BL96 has been taken away, and he’s going to have to manage for himself. From now on you’re also not going to say jackshit about what’s going on in the Aune group. And you’re going to tell me how big your gambling debts are.’