Medusa by Torkil Damhaug Page A

days .
    He put the paper aside. Opened a letter from the surgical department with an appointment for Cecilie Davidsen’s operation. They’d been quick; he hadn’t needed to send them a reminder. Given what they’d found, there was no time to lose. He remembered that he’d dreamt about her. He’d opened the door of a house he recognised. The villa in Vindern. He hadn’t rung, just gone right in. It was dark inside, but he heard sounds coming from the floor above, a woman groaning. I shouldn’t be here: the thought flashed through him as he started to climb the stairs. Someone was following him; he sensed a shadow but couldn’t turn round.
    He looked through his list of patients again. Had to be finished by four. He hadn’t visited his mother last week. Hadn’t been back since she got him mixed up with Brede.
    He found an updated article on whiplash injuries in the online edition of The Lancet . He wanted to give Miriam the best possible advice regarding the case she was handling. If she even showed up today … Was he hoping she would still be off sick? So he wouldn’t have to say anything about the visit to her flat the Monday before? Wouldn’t have to joke about it. Or apologise. Maybe that was why she’d stayed away all week.
    At 7.40, he heard Rita let herself into the office. A few moments later, he went in.
    – New week, new possibilities, she said, without conviction.
    – You heard the news, he said.
    She nodded.
    – It’s the most awful thing I ever heard. Imagine that, Axel, a bear.
    His eyebrows shot up.
    – A bear?
    – Didn’t you hear? she exclaimed, holding up VG . Half the front page was covered with the words: TORN APART BY BEAR IN NORDMARKA. There was an indistinct photograph, white-clad figures stooped over a body on the ground.
    – It’s just the kind of thing VG writes, Rita. It’s not possible. Not in the Nordmarka.
    – I suggest you read the whole thing. The police say there’s no doubt.
    He flipped through the ten pages devoted to the case.
    – I met her up there. Just before she disappeared.
    – My God! Why didn’t you mention it before?
    He peered out into the waiting room, where the first patient had taken a seat, a retired officer who had known his father.
    – There’s been so much going on, Rita.
     
    He heard Miriam talking to Rita outside reception. Shortly afterwards, she came along the corridor, past his door, and opened the door to Ola’s office. Axel opened the retired lieutenant colonel’s notes. Checked the lab tests. His haemoglobin concentration had fallen since the last time it was tested. He heard Miriam’s steps approaching again. He looked at some of the patient’s other results. There was a knock on the door, which was ajar. He cleared his throat, but before he managed to say anything, she was standing there. He scrolled down to the bottom of the document and looked at the last readings before glancing up. Beneath her coat, she was wearing the top with her name on it.
    – Dirty linen basket still full, then? he said, adding, before he had time to wince at his own comment: – So you’re feeling better?
    She crossed the floor and stood in front of him.
    – A bit hoarse, but yes, fine.
    He stood up. – Miriam, he said, and put his arm around her. She moved in close to him. He stroked her hair, laid his face against her neck and inhaled. The smell reminded him of something he had forgotten.
     
    The telephone rang. He reached across the table without letting go of her hand.
    – Are you ready for your first patient? asked Rita, obviously as a way of reminding him that he was already ten minutes late.
    – Send him in. Did you tell him that we have a student here?
    – Yes, yes. Another thing, Axel, VG just called. I said you were busy.
    – VG ? What did they want?
    – A journalist … Fredvold, she wanted to talk to you. I said she could try again at lunchtime.
    Axel felt suddenly annoyed.
    – Listen, Rita, I don’t have time to talk to VG .
    –