Free Norwegian by Night by Derek B. Miller Page A

by. There is no recognition on his face. He has never seen Sheldon before. He has no reason to suspect that the old man is anything more than a random bystander near a murder scene.
    But there is a connection. Some moment has passed between them. Sheldon feels it immediately.
    As the car drives past, Sheldon mutters quietly so that the words have been spoken, even if there is no one there to hear them: You can’t have him. As God is my witness, you can’t have him.
    Inside, he writes the note. The message comes to him as if the words were prophetic. Rhea will understand, won’t she? She’ll get the reference. She’ll know where he’s going. She’ll know what it all means.
    He leaves it on his dresser table by the photos and under his jacket patch from the Marine Corps. Though the idea comes to him, he chooses not to write down the time.
    On leaving the apartment through the back door, Sheldon and the boy do not need to wander far to find a safe and public place where they are unlikely to be found. Like so many other Norwegians, they drift into the Botanical Gardens and hide themselves in the beauty of the day. Only they are not like other Norwegians.
    Sitting on a park bench after buying the boy an ice-cream cone, Sheldon checks his watch so he can know precisely the moment he ran out of ideas.
    2:42 p.m. As good a time as any.
    A police car drives by behind them with its lights on and siren going. Soon after, another follows. He knows immediately that they must have found her. And soon they’ll find the note.
    â€˜What we need to do, kid, is hole up in a cave like Huckleberry Finn for a while. Do you know that story? Huck Finn? He went upriver after confronting his evil father. Faked his own death. Met up with a runaway slave named Jim. Sort of like you and me, if an old Jew and a little Albanian dressed like Paddington Bear are reasonable stand-ins for the original cast. Point is, though, we’ve got to hole up somewhere. Our own version of Jackson’s Island. We’ve also got to go up-river. Go north to freedom. And I’ve got an idea about how to do that. The trouble is, though, I’m out of my element here. I don’t know what use I am to you. I can’t give you up. I can’t just hand you over to the police and hope that the Norwegians don’t just hand you over to the monster from upstairs. How should I know who he is? What I do know is that it isn’t your fault, and that’s enough for me right now. So I’m on your side. Got it?’
    The boy chews the remaining stump in silence, looking down at his wellingtons.
    â€˜You’re going to need a name. What’s your name?’
    The Paddingtons dangle.
    â€˜I’m Donny.’ He points at himself. ‘Donny. You can try Mr Horowitz, but I think that’s a doomed proposition. Donny. I’m Donny.’
    He waits.
    â€˜Eye contact would be helpful here.’
    He waits again. Another police car drives by with the sirens blasting.
    They are sitting on a bench not far from the Zoological Museum. Plush grass surrounds trees in full flush. Lilies line the base of bushes, and children — many about the boy’s age — are gliding along on odd sneakers that seemed to have wheels in their heels.
    A dark cloud passes over, cooling the air and bringing with it a thousand shadows.
    Sheldon continues speaking for both of them. Silence is not a practised skill of his.
    â€˜My son’s name was Saul. He was named for the first king of Israel. This was three thousand years ago. Saul had a hard life. And it was a hard time. The Philistines had taken the Ark of the Covenant, people were miserable, and he had to pull it all together. Which he did. But he couldn’t hold it. He was a flawed man in many ways. But not in others. One of the things I like best about Saul is how he spared the life of Agag. This was the king of the Amalekites. Saul’s army defeated them and, according