ewes has a yellow-and-blue tag. If it means anything to you. Or if he asks. Yellow and blue.’
Theo put the empty bottle of Solo in the rucksack.
‘We can meet where the paths cross,’ Hannes said. ‘At the sign there. We’ll be there in forty minutes. Can I tell my boy that he’ll get his picture in the newspaper? … Brilliant. He’ll be proud. Here’s a working title for you.’ He laughed. ‘Sheep shocker by Snellevann!’
Hannes put his mobile in his pocket.
They started back. Theo hopped about, waving his walking stick.
‘Mama won’t believe us,’ he said.
‘We might as well say we saw a Bengal tiger,’ Hannes said. He drove his stick into the hill, spraying sand.
Theo stared between the tree trunks, into the dark foliage. He thought he could hear shaking and stirring everywhere.
‘Are there bears in here, Papa?’
Hannes rumpled his son’s hair. ‘There aren’t any bears this far south, just orange-coloured sheep.’
They walked to the crossroads, and stood there waiting. Theo sat by a ditch, while Hannes paced back and forth, like a guard on patrol.
‘You’ll be in the paper, Theo. It’ll be great. Mama will be surprised.’
Theo nodded. He asked his father to get Optimus Prime out of the rucksack so he could play with it while they waited for the reporter. Hannes handed it to him. Then he stretched his arms like wings and started running back and forth along the trail.
‘What are you doing?’ Theo called out.
‘I’m the Flying Dutchman,’ Hannes shouted. ‘An outlaw without kin.’
Then he landed at his son’s side.
‘But who dyed the sheep?’ Theo wanted to know.
‘Some prankster,’ Hannes said, ‘who likes to have fun with people. Maybe the madman who’s behind all that stuff in the newspaper.’
‘Is he in the woods now?’ Theo asked, looking around.
‘Oh no, you’re safe,’ he assured him. ‘Norway is a peaceful country. We don’t have much to worry about. No war, famine or deprivation. The safest place of all, Theo, is here, in the woods.’
The journalist appeared in the bend, and it was Theo who told the story. In the end he was asked to stand against the trunk of a spruce, the Zeiss binoculars around his neck, to be photographed in true newspaper fashion. Later, he sat with his mother on the sofa and told her about the day’s events.
Chapter 15
A short, stout man, Sverre Skarning wore big boots and had a plug of tobacco in his mouth. The fact that the police bothered to stop by because of some sheep was, to him, pretty funny. Like so many farmers, he seemed healthy and strong. He had apple-red cheeks and his trousers – held up by braces – appeared to be home-made.
They were in the vicinity, Sejer explained to him, and stopped by for their own amusement. Just in case there was any connection with other bizarre events that had occurred recently.
‘Well,’ Skarning laughed softly, ‘at least the meat isn’t spoiled – that’s always a comfort.’
‘How’s the sheep doing?’ Sejer asked with a smile.
Skarning shook his head in resignation. ‘It’s in the barn. They used some damn chemicals, some poisonous stuff from a spray can, so it’s got runny eyes. I suppose you’ll figure out what. I’ve saved the wool. Got it in a plastic bag. You can send it to the lab for analysis.’ He laughed again.
He started walking across the farm yard. Because he was quite a few pounds overweight, his gait was heavy and swaying, like a goose.
‘But that one sheep wasn’t the biggest problem. The bugger left all the gates open. I had sheep wandering about everywhere. Had to take the trailer to round them up. A neighbour helped. It’s dangerous when sheep are on the road. Accidents, you know. Clearly that idiot doesn’t think too far ahead.’
They ambled slowly towards the sheep barn. Much of the farm machinery was parked alongside the walls. At the side of the house sat a blue Chevrolet. They went into the barn, heads bent, eyes blinking in
Theo put the empty bottle of Solo in the rucksack.
‘We can meet where the paths cross,’ Hannes said. ‘At the sign there. We’ll be there in forty minutes. Can I tell my boy that he’ll get his picture in the newspaper? … Brilliant. He’ll be proud. Here’s a working title for you.’ He laughed. ‘Sheep shocker by Snellevann!’
Hannes put his mobile in his pocket.
They started back. Theo hopped about, waving his walking stick.
‘Mama won’t believe us,’ he said.
‘We might as well say we saw a Bengal tiger,’ Hannes said. He drove his stick into the hill, spraying sand.
Theo stared between the tree trunks, into the dark foliage. He thought he could hear shaking and stirring everywhere.
‘Are there bears in here, Papa?’
Hannes rumpled his son’s hair. ‘There aren’t any bears this far south, just orange-coloured sheep.’
They walked to the crossroads, and stood there waiting. Theo sat by a ditch, while Hannes paced back and forth, like a guard on patrol.
‘You’ll be in the paper, Theo. It’ll be great. Mama will be surprised.’
Theo nodded. He asked his father to get Optimus Prime out of the rucksack so he could play with it while they waited for the reporter. Hannes handed it to him. Then he stretched his arms like wings and started running back and forth along the trail.
‘What are you doing?’ Theo called out.
‘I’m the Flying Dutchman,’ Hannes shouted. ‘An outlaw without kin.’
Then he landed at his son’s side.
‘But who dyed the sheep?’ Theo wanted to know.
‘Some prankster,’ Hannes said, ‘who likes to have fun with people. Maybe the madman who’s behind all that stuff in the newspaper.’
‘Is he in the woods now?’ Theo asked, looking around.
‘Oh no, you’re safe,’ he assured him. ‘Norway is a peaceful country. We don’t have much to worry about. No war, famine or deprivation. The safest place of all, Theo, is here, in the woods.’
The journalist appeared in the bend, and it was Theo who told the story. In the end he was asked to stand against the trunk of a spruce, the Zeiss binoculars around his neck, to be photographed in true newspaper fashion. Later, he sat with his mother on the sofa and told her about the day’s events.
Chapter 15
A short, stout man, Sverre Skarning wore big boots and had a plug of tobacco in his mouth. The fact that the police bothered to stop by because of some sheep was, to him, pretty funny. Like so many farmers, he seemed healthy and strong. He had apple-red cheeks and his trousers – held up by braces – appeared to be home-made.
They were in the vicinity, Sejer explained to him, and stopped by for their own amusement. Just in case there was any connection with other bizarre events that had occurred recently.
‘Well,’ Skarning laughed softly, ‘at least the meat isn’t spoiled – that’s always a comfort.’
‘How’s the sheep doing?’ Sejer asked with a smile.
Skarning shook his head in resignation. ‘It’s in the barn. They used some damn chemicals, some poisonous stuff from a spray can, so it’s got runny eyes. I suppose you’ll figure out what. I’ve saved the wool. Got it in a plastic bag. You can send it to the lab for analysis.’ He laughed again.
He started walking across the farm yard. Because he was quite a few pounds overweight, his gait was heavy and swaying, like a goose.
‘But that one sheep wasn’t the biggest problem. The bugger left all the gates open. I had sheep wandering about everywhere. Had to take the trailer to round them up. A neighbour helped. It’s dangerous when sheep are on the road. Accidents, you know. Clearly that idiot doesn’t think too far ahead.’
They ambled slowly towards the sheep barn. Much of the farm machinery was parked alongside the walls. At the side of the house sat a blue Chevrolet. They went into the barn, heads bent, eyes blinking in
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