Odd Numbers (Offline) by Anne Holt

Author:Anne Holt [Holt, Anne]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Scribner
Published: 0101-01-01T00:00:00+00:00

In the east, the sky was pink. A faint, beautiful light above Oslo promised the first day of good weather in ages. Henrik Holme had been walking around watching the city stir from the very first tiny streak of daylight. He had made sure he was on the heights of St. Hanshaugen just as the sun rose.

Walking calmed him down. It did him good to expend energy. His head cleared and his tics became less persistent. It had taken time for him to get used to the big city. Several years. Eventually he could not think of moving back to the small town he came from, anyway. If he were ever to live anywhere other than Oslo, it would have to be abroad and in an even larger city with even more people. Not in order to get to know them—he did not know many and could live with that quite easily—but to be able to blend in. Even though his colleagues thought he was odd and could be a bit too obvious about their opinion of him, he had as yet never had the experience of being spoken to in an offensive way by strangers in this city. He had experienced that constantly during his upbringing.

He dreamed of New York.

He was saving up for a vacation there. It would have to be on his own, but New York must be the perfect city in which to be alone.

Now he was approaching Frogner Park, and it was twenty minutes to eight. He had walked some distance along Kirkeveien and gone around the corner to Middelthuns gate at a brisk pace.

It had been easy to find Abid Kahn. Henrik had gone directly to police headquarters from Hanne’s apartment the previous evening. There, he had access to the Population Register, which was a far better instrument for tracing people than the phone book.

There were three Abid Kahns living in Norway. One was well over sixty and one only eighteen. The third had been born in 1978. That fit perfectly: the Abid Kahn he was looking for had been in the class above Karina Knoph at school.

The man didn’t only still live in Oslo; he was a colleague. Three years ago, he had joined the Royal Police Escort and in all probability was having a busy time after the events of the last few days. All the same, he had been friendliness personified when Henrik phoned him just before ten the previous evening, just within the acceptable limit of disturbing anyone, which had been instilled into him by his mother throughout his childhood.

Abid was working double shifts at present. Nevertheless, he had to exercise, as he did every day, and if Henrik met him in Frogner Park, beside the immense lawns beyond the parking lot across the street from the NHO building, they could chat while he did some concluding stretches.

Henrik passed the Frognerbadet swimming pool and saw that he was possibly too early. Eight o’clock, quarter past eight, Abid Kahn had said, underlining that he could not spare much more than fifteen minutes before he would have to leave.

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