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these days.”
    “No, that’s not true. Good hearts are unusual. And always in demand.
You’re
unusual, Olav.”
    “I’m not sure that’s true.”
    She yawned and stretched. Lithe as a pussycat. They have really flexible shoulders, so wherever they can get their heads in, they can also squeeze their whole body. Practical for hunting. Practical for flight.
    “If you’ve got that blanket, I think I might get some sleep now,” she said. “There’s been a bit too much excitement today.”
    “I’ll change the bed, then you can have that,” I said. “The sofa and I are old friends.”
    “Really?” she smiled, winking one of her big blue eyes. “Does that mean I’m not the first person to spend the night here?”
    “No, you are. But sometimes I fall asleep reading on the sofa.”
    “What do you read?”
    “Nothing special. Books.”
    “Books?” She tilted her head to one side and smiled mischievously, as if she’d caught me out. “But I can see only one book here.”
    “The library. Books take up space. Besides, I’m trying to cut down.”
    She picked up the book that was on the table. “
Les Misérables?
What’s this one about, then?”
    “Lots of things.”
    She raised an eyebrow.
    “Mostly about a man who gets forgiveness for his sins,” I said. “He spends the rest of his life making up for his past by being a good man.”
    “Hmm.” She weighed the book in her hands. “It feels a bit heavy. Is there any romance in it?”
    “Yes.”
    She put it down. “You didn’t say what we’re going to do, Olav.”
    “What we have to do,” I said, “is fix Daniel Hoffmann before he fixes us.”
    The sentence had sounded stupid when I formulated it inside my head. And just as stupid when I said it out loud.

CHAPTER 8
    I went to the hotel early the next morning. Both of the rooms that faced Hoffmann’s apartment were already taken. I went and stood outside in the morning darkness, hidden behind a parked van, and looked up at his living room. Waiting. Squeezing the pistol in my coat pocket. This was the time he normally left home to go to work. But of course things weren’t normal. The lights were on, but it was impossible to see if there was anyone up there. I presumed that Hoffmann realised I wouldn’t have taken off with Corina and now be holed up in a hotel in Copenhagen or Amsterdam, say. To begin with, that wasn’t my style, and anyway, I didn’t have the money,and Hoffmann knew that. I’d had to ask for an advance to cover my expenses for this job. He’d asked why I was so broke, seeing as he’d only just paid me for two jobs. I said something about bad habits.
    If Hoffmann was assuming that I was still in the city, then he would also assume that I’d try to get him before he got me. We knew each other fairly well by now. But it’s one thing to think you know something about someone, and another to know for certain, and I’ve been wrong before. Maybe he was on his own up there. And if that was the case, I’d never get a better opportunity than when he emerged from the building. I’d just have to wait until the lock clicked shut behind him so he couldn’t get back inside, run across the street, two shots to the torso from five metres, then two in the head from close range.
    That was a lot to hope for.
    The door opened. It was him.
    And Brynhildsen and Pine. Brynhildsen with the toupee that looked like it was made from dog hair and the pencil-thin moustache that looked like a croquet hoop. Pine in the caramel-brownleather jacket he wore all year round, summer and winter alike. With his little hat, the cigarette tucked behind his ear, and a mouth that just wouldn’t stop. Random words drifted across the street. “Fucking cold” and “that bastard.”
    Hoffmann stopped inside the doorway while his two attack dogs went out onto the pavement and looked up and down the street with their hands deep in their jacket pockets.
    Then they waved at Hoffmann and began to walk towards the