'Is it the FBI identification program?' Halvorsen turned to Harry and with a certain fascination verified that the sweat stain which had started at the dating agency logo on Harry's chest had now spread to cover the whole of the T-shirt.

'No, she has a better program,' Harry said. 'How far?'

'Twenty-two. Which one?'

'Fusiform gyrus.'

'Microsoft? Apple Mac?'

Harry tapped his forefinger on a bright red forehead. 'Software common to all. Sits in the temporal lobe in the brain and its sole function is to recognise people. That's all it does. It's the bit that makes sure we can distinguish between hundreds and thousands of human faces, but scarcely a dozen rhinos.'

'Rhinos?'

Harry pinched his eyes and tried to blink away the smarting sweat. 'That was an example, Halvorsen, but there's no doubt that Beate Lшnn is a special case. Her fusiform can do a couple of extra turns which, so to speak, allow her to remember all the faces she has seen in her life. And I don't just mean people she knows or has spoken to, but faces behind sunglasses she passed in a crowded street fifteen years ago.'

'You're kidding.'

'Nope.' Harry tucked in his head as he regained enough breath to continue: 'There are only about a hundred known cases like hers. Didrik Gudmundson said that she took a test at Police College and beat several well-known identification programs. The woman is a walking archive of faces. If she asks you Haven't I seen you somewhere before? you can take it from me, it's not just a chat-up line.'

'Jeez. What's she doing in the police? With talent like that, I mean.'

Harry shrugged. 'Do you remember the officer who was shot during a bank raid in the eighties in Ryen?'

'Before my time.'

'He happened to be close by when the call went out and as he was the first to arrive on the scene, he went into the bank to negotiate unarmed. He was mown down by automatic gunfire and the robbers were never caught. It was later used at Police College as an example of what you shouldn't do when you surprise bank robbers.'

'You should wait for reinforcements. You must not confront robbers or expose yourself, bank employees or the robbers to unnecessary danger.'

'Right, that's what the manual says. The odd thing is that he was one of the best and most experienced investigators they had. Jшrgen Lшnn. Beate's father.'

'Right. And you think that's why she joined the police? Because of her father?'

'Possibly.'

'Is she good-looking?'

'She's good. How far?'

'Just passed twenty-four, six left. And you?'

'Twenty-two. I'll catch you up, you know.'

'Not this time,' Halvorsen said, increasing his speed.

'Yes, I will, because here come the hills. And here I come. And you'll be psyched out and get cramp. As usual.'

'Not this time,' Halvorsen said, pedalling harder. A bead of sweat became visible in his thick hairline. Harry smiled and leaned over the handlebars.

***

Bjarne Mшller stared alternately at the shopping list he had received from his wife and at the shelf, at what he thought might be coriander. Margrete had fallen in love with Thai food after their holiday in Phuket last winter, but the Crime Squad head was still not completely at ease with the various vegetables which were flown daily from Bangkok to the Pakistani grocer's store in Grшnlandsleiret.

'That's green chilli, boss,' a voice by his ear said and Bjarne Mшller spun round and looked into Harry's flushed, sweat-stained face. 'Couple of those and a few slices of ginger and you can make tom yam soup. There'll be steam coming out of your ears, but you'll have sweated out a fair bit of crap.'

'Looks like you've had a foretaste, Harry.'

'Just a little cycle race with Halvorsen.'

'Oh yes? And what's that in your hand?'

'Japone pepper. A small red chilli.'

'Didn't know you cooked.'

Harry gazed with wonderment at the bag containing the chilli, as if it was new to him, too. 'By the way, lucky I met you, boss. We have a problem.'

Mшller could feel his scalp chafing.

'I don't know who decided Ivarsson should lead the investigation into the killing in Bogstadveien, but it's not working.'

Mшller put the list in the shopping basket. 'How long have you worked together now? Two whole days?'

'That's not the point, boss.'

'Can't you just do your job for once in your life, Harry? And let others decide how it's organised? Having a go at not being against everyone won't inflict permanent damage, you know.'

'I just want the case to be solved as quickly as possible, boss, so that I can get on with the other one, you know.'

'Yes, I know, but you've been working on that case for a good deal longer than the two months I promised you, and I cannot defend the commitment of time and resources with personal considerations and emotions, Harry.'

'She was a colleague, boss.'

'I know!' Mшller barked. He paused, looked around, then continued in more muted tones: 'What's your problem, Harry?'

'They're used to working on robberies, and Ivarsson is not in the slightest bit interested in constructive input.'

Bjarne Mшller was unable to suppress a grin at the thought of Harry's 'constructive input'.

Harry leaned forward. He spoke quickly and intensely: 'What's the first thing we ask ourselves when a murder has been committed, boss? Why? What's the motive? That's what we ask. In the Robberies Unit they automatically take it for granted money is the motive and don't ask the question.'

'So what do you think the motive is?'

'I don't think anything. The point is that they use completely the wrong methodology.'

'A different methodology, Harry, different. I have to get these vegetable things bought and go home, so tell me what it is you want.'

'I want you to talk to the people you have to talk to so that I can have one person to work solo with.'

'Step down from the investigation team?'

'Parallel investigation.'

'Harry-'

'That was how we caught the Redbreast, do you remember?'

'Harry, I can't interfere-'

'I want to work with Beate Lшnn, so that she and I can start afresh. Ivarsson is already getting bogged down-'

'Harry!'

'Yes?'

'What's the real reason?'

Harry shifted weight. 'I can't work with the smiling croc.'

'Ivarsson?'

'I'll go and do something extremely stupid.'

Bjarne Mшller's eyebrows met across the bridge of his nose in a black V: 'Is that supposed to be a threat?'

Harry placed a hand on Mшller's shoulder. 'Just this one favour, boss. I'll never ask for anything else again. Ever.'

Mшller growled. Over the years, how many times had he put his head on the block for Harry, instead of heeding the well-meant career advice from older colleagues? Keep him at arm's length, they said. A loose cannon, he is. The only thing that was certain about Harry Hole was that one day something was going to go disastrously wrong. However, because, in some mysterious way, he and Harry had so far always landed on their feet, no one had been able to implement any drastic measures. So far. The most interesting question of all, though, was: Why did he put up with it? He looked across at Harry. The alcoholic. The troublemaker. The ever-unbearable, arrogant bullhead. And the best investigator he had, apart from Waaler.

'You keep your nose clean, Harry. Otherwise I'll shove you behind a desk and lock the door. Have you got that?'

'Received loud and clear, boss.'

Mшller sighed. 'I have a meeting with the Chief Superintendent and Ivarsson tomorrow. We'll have to wait and see. I'm not promising anything, do you hear?'

'Aye, aye, boss. Regards to your wife.' Harry craned his head round on the way out. 'Coriander's on the far left, bottom shelf.'