Free Pierced by Thomas Enger Page B

it.
    Many seconds pass without Grønningen saying anything. At regular intervals he looks at Henning before his gaze breaks away. The waiter comes over to their table. Grønningen orders a Wiener schnitzel with extra potatoes and vegetables. When the waiter has gone, Henning leans across the table.
    “My son died,” he says, and a lump forms instantly in his throat. “I tried to rescue him from my flat. Somebody set fire to it.”
    Henning tries to swallow.
    “Tore says that he knows something about what happened that day. He has promised to tell me what it is—if I help him. That’s the only reward I’m looking for. I’ll do anything to makeTore tell me what he knows. No matter what that is or where it takes me.”
    He pauses for effect. Grønningen stares pensively at the table.
    “And it’s fine if you don’t want to help me help your friend. But I promise you, Geir, I’m not going to go away. Not now, not ever.”
    Henning notices that his voice is trembling. Even so Grønningen remains silent.
    “You don’t happen to know something, do you?” Henning continues after a pause.
    “Eh?”
    “About the fire in my flat?”
    “Me?”
    “Yes, you—given that you and Tore are such close friends. If Tore knows something then it’s not inconceivable that he might have told you.”
    “He didn’t.”
    Henning concentrates on Grønningen’s eyes. At the table farther away a family erupts in a collective giggling fit. Grønningen quickly turns in their direction before resuming his study of the napkin in front of him. He picks it up and spreads it out.
    “How was he?” he asks.
    “Tore? I don’t know. I’ve never met him so I don’t know what he was like before. And I didn’t speak to him for very long.”
    “I haven’t spoken to him for a long time.”
    “Why not?”
    “He’s only allowed one visit a week and Veronica gets first pick. That’s all they’ve got, the two of them, so the rest of us tend to leave them alone.”
    Henning refrains from saying anything for a while. He senses that Grønningen has started to open up.
    “It has been difficult to talk about Tore since he went toprison,” he says. “Nobody really wants to and in a way we’ve put it behind us. I’ve tried to find out where everyone was the night that Jocke Brolenius was killed, but people were either with each other or they were out of town.”
    Henning nods.
    “But you knew that Tore was meeting Jocke Brolenius?”
    “Yes, several of us did. He came to the gym to work out before he drove up to the old factory.”
    Henning picks up a jug on the table and fills his glass with water. He looks at Grønningen to see if he wants some and Grønningen holds out his glass without nodding.
    “Can you describe Tore to me?” Henning asks as he pours the water. “I mean from a friend’s perspective?”
    Grønningen sighs and starts to reminisce. Suddenly he breaks into a smile.
    “The first time I met Tore, he punched me in the face.”
    “Why?” Henning asks, mirroring his smile.
    “Because I had just put Tore’s cousin in hospital for chatting up my girlfriend. Petter was just a boy then, so Tore had to step in. He broke my jaw.”
    Grønningen touches his face and briefly strokes the beard that decorates his chin.
    “When I came to, he squatted down in front of me and said: I look after my own. I just want you to remember that .”
    “And from then on you were best mates?” Henning asks in disbelief.
    “Well, not straight away. But he saw that I had what it took and that’s why he recruited me for—”
    “The enforcer business?”
    “Call it what you will. He put me up for the odd job here and there. In time we grew to be best mates even though there were lots of contenders for that role.”
    “How come?” Henning asks and sips his water.
    “Tore was a popular guy. And he was feared as well. Beingaround Tore gave you a certain status. Everyone looked up to him. He got whatever he wanted. And I’m not just