192

Bjorn made several more attempts at logging into the website, but to no avail. He was locked out, and there was nothing he could do about it.

"But this is insane," Bjorn though, as he was gradually gripped by anxiety. "They are in on it, aren't they? They have some sort of plan, and they are working with Pedro to have it come true."

Bjorn stood up from his chair, feeling too restless to remain seated. "But why me? What are they after?" he asked himself as he started pacing slowly down to the door. Then he turned and went back to the window where he looked out behind the drawn curtains.

Gus and his men were finishing their work down the road, and the sight of them was strangely soothing. The simple fact that Bjorn was far from alone in the world put things in perspective. His paranoia receded. He felt refreshed.

"So, maybe there is a hidden plan to all of this," Bjorn thought. "So what if there is? It's not necessarily a bad thing. I just have to keep an eye open and make sure I don't get involved in anything dangerous. I'm still in control. It's not like these people can make me do things against my will."

Bjorn was again reminded of Pedro's cryptic message about Tuesday. "Something is going to happen tomorrow, and I'm going to be judged by my reaction. But somehow, I doubt that it will be anything dramatic. It's just a test after all. The real issue is the visit to the airport on Wednesday."

Bjorn turned to the little bookshelf by his desk where he picked up the folder containing the rules and regulations governing the border control of the colony. He had briefly looked through it in preparation for his move to the checkpoint, but had not opened it since. And as a result, he was in fact clueless when it came to the exact wording of the rules.

But now that he was going to inspect the airport together with Espen in less than two days, it was high time he made himself a little more familiar with the details. Bjorn opened the folder, found the section on ports and airfields, and started to read. But his mind started drifting almost immediately. He could not concentrate, especially with so many thoughts and questions still circling around in his mind.

"To hell with it!" Bjorn thought. "It's all just a load of nonsense about distances and little red lines anyway. Who cares if they are followed exactly to the letter or not? I'll just going to fake it when I go down there. I'll use my common sense. I don't need a rule book to tell me if something makes sense or not."

Bjorn put the folder back on the shelf. Then, before he had time to sit down again, he heard Ante call from down stairs that dinner was ready.

191

Bjorn almost regretted making the calculations. Had he not worked out his change in salary in Grams, he could have fooled himself into thinking he was better off with his nominal change in wages. But now that he had worked out the numbers, it was clear that he was not all that much better off than the people in the village, and that his real income was actually going down, relative to the Gram.

"But the gold price is going down," Bjorn thought to himself. "So how can the Gram go up? It's just a casino token, redeemable in gold. Surely, it should follow the gold price."

Bjorn found a chart  on the web showing the change in the gold price over time, just to make sure he had his facts right. And sure enough, the gold price was showing a clear downward trend. So on the one hand, the gold price was going down, and on the other hand, the Gram was going up.

"This makes no sense at all," Bjorn thought. Then he convinced himself that things would have to balance up sooner or later, and that his salary would then return to its proper level. "It must be some sort of temporary imbalance," he concluded before closing the tabs with the two charts. And with that conclusion, he felt quite a lot better. "Things will return to normal," he thought. "It simply has to since nothing can remain out of balance for ever."

Having closed the tabs with the charts, Bjorn was again confronted with the Blacklist, and this made him think of the official blacklist at the department of justice. That, after all, was the blacklist with real legitimacy. Unlike the web page in front of him, which had no legal authority, and did not really represent anybody, the blacklist at the department of justice represented the law of the land and the will of the people.

Bjorn pulled the official blacklist up from his browser history, remembering that he had not actually looked up Gus and his helpers. And curious to see what the department of justice might have on them, he proceeded to type in their names. But it proved hopeless to find anything on them. With only their first names and their nationality to help him in his search, he either got nothing or too much, depending on what he was typing in.

Then he got an idea. Bjorn could look them up on the Blacklist used in Lundby, and find their full names there. That webpage had the advantage that it did not contain all that many names, and with it being possible to restrict the search to Lundby, the list of names would be very short. If they happened to have an account, or even just a mention, he was sure to find them.

And sure enough. After a bit of hunting around, he found the full names of all three. None of them were involved in any squabble, but had evidently taken the trouble to register themselves anyway. However, Bjorn wasted no time wondering why this was so. Instead, he pasted the men's full names into the database at the department of justice, one after another, to see if they had anything on them.

But nothing came up. The department had nothing on either of them. And Bjorn felt strangely disappointed at this discovery. He had nothing against the men, but a database that listed people like Cecilie, Einar and Katinka as criminals, should in Bjorn's mind at least post a warning about people so clearly involved in shady arms deals.

"It must be some sort of mistake," Bjorn thought. "An unfortunate omission." Then, for some reason, Bjorn proceeded to type in his own name. He hit return, and up came a list of people sharing his full name, all with a green all clear status, except for the one at the top which was marked in red. And to his great surprise, the thumbnail image was of him.

"That can't be right," Bjorn thought, feeling his veins slowly freeze in quiet anguish. He clicked on the link to read the details. "Warning:" it read. "Immediate arrest on charges of: Attempted tax evasion (1 count)." Bjorn stared in disbelief at the webpage in front of him. Then it slowly dawned on him what it was all about.

Immediately after getting his divorce from his ex, Bjorn had applied for a passport, thinking he could do with a break. A trip to a southern country for instance, to clear his mind and put things in perspective. However, he had been denied a passport on the grounds that he still had unsettled affairs in Norway. And thinking this had to do with his divorce proceedings which had not been fully completed, he had simply accepted this as just one more slap in the face from his ex. But now that he saw the text in front of him, he realized that the unsettled affairs might just as well have been a reference to his debt to the taxman.

But if Bjorn was on the blacklist for potential tax evasion, why was he allowed to work as a border guard? This made absolutely no sense. Were the people in Oslo really so incompetent that they would let a blacklisted person serve as a border guard, and now even as a customs officer?

Bjorn clicked on the warning in the hope that it might reveal some more information, but as he did this, the session terminated, and he was sent to the log in screen. "Oh no! Not now!" Bjorn though, his frustration and anguish rising quickly. Then he found the note with the log in and password details to log in again. But he was denied access. "No such user or password it said."

179

Bjorn looked up from his PC and reached for his ham sandwich. He felt agitated by Maria's words, and frustrated with the fact that he could not find a good counter argument. He had initially thought of Hitler and the Holocaust as the perfect proof of Maria's error. But he could not use it without either sounding silly or insinuating that the foreign minister was somehow comparable to Hitler.

Bjorn took a bite of his sandwich. "Surely, Hitler was responsible for the Holocaust," he thought. "Yet, Maria is right too. The executioners were the ones doing the killing, not Hitler himself, and there would have been no Holocaust without them."

But on the other hand, Hitler knew he wielded the power of authority, and he used it to kill. Surely, that was a crime. He held a magic spell, as it were, over his followers, and he ordered them to kill. However, this argument would only hold in a system where authority is a legal entity. It also assumes that Hitler's followers were indeed under some sort of spell and unable to think for themselves. To hold Hitler responsible for the Holocaust, it is necessary to appeal to the authority argument and assume his followers to be some sort of automates, unable to think or feel. In Maria's system, authority is not a legal entity and everybody is assumed to have free will. Maria, it turns out, has no way to blame Hitler for the Holocaust because she is denying herself the key assumptions necessary to argue in that direction.

Bjorn felt pleased with himself for having identified the source of Maria's standpoint. He took another bite of his ham sandwich. And while munching it, he could not help giving Maria credit for having at least applied her principles consistently. She had not treated Ane in any way different from the foreign minister. In Maria's world it was the fighter pilots that were responsible for the death's in Libya, and it was Ane's workers that were responsible for polluting the waters around her factory.

"But that's fascism," Bjorn thought to himself. "To blame the little guy for just doing his job while letting the big fish off the hook is no way to run a legal system." Bjorn could not quite believe that Maria was sincere in what she was saying. Going after the little guy, the way she did, could not possibly be out of any sense of justice. This woman was motivated by something far less honorable than justice, and considering her relationship to the local drug lord, it seemed quite obvious that she was really just out to protect her husband. She was sucking up to the foreign minister as a return favor for protecting David. "And why not consistently argue on behalf of the rich and the powerful?" Bjorn thought. "If you already sold your soul to the devil, you might as well get as much out of it as you possibly can."

Then the full scope of Maria's sinister plot suddenly dawned on Bjorn, and it was clear why he had reacted with such anger on reading her comments. Maria was going to hold Bjorn fully responsible for any and all actions committed in the line of duty. Bjorn was the little guy, and he would be held personally responsible for any damage or loss he might cause while merely doing his job. If he shot anybody, and it was not self defense, Maria would charge him with murder. If he confiscated anyone's property, he would be charged with theft.

Bjorn was not angry with Maria due to her apparent defense of Hitler. Bjorn was angry and frustrated with her because she was going to argue against him if he ever was to break the golden rule. Bjorn would not be allowed to use the argument that he was just following orders.

171

Bjorn felt unusually well rested going down the stairs on his way to the kitchen. His weird dream was all but forgotten, and his mind was firmly set on the day ahead of him. He had noted with pleasure that the sky was without a cloud, and the thought of six hours in the glass cage, all to himself, was making him almost lyrical. "It is not a bad way to spend a few hours," he thought to himself. "Not a bad way at all."

Ante had just finished frying the bacon and eggs, setting them out on the table, when Bjorn entered the kitchen as the first of his colleagues. They greeted each other cheerfully and exchanged a few pleasantries about the weather before sitting down to eat.

"Have you tried the ham?" Ante asked, breaking the silence that descended on the two men and stuck with them from when they started their breakfast. Ante pointed to a tray full of finely cut slices of cured ham at the center of the table.
"No, I haven't," Bjorn answered.
"You should! It's very good."
"I'm not very fond of cured ham," Bjorn commented, finishing his bacon and eggs. "Dry and salty. Never liked it."
"But this is different. It's not your average Norwegian piece of meat. This is straight from the best butchers in Spain."
"Really?"

Bjorn looked at the meat, still skeptical. Then, before he had time to say any more, Frank appeared in the kitchen.

"Isn't that right?" Ante asked, looking at Frank as he sat down to eat. "The cured ham I got the other day is really nice."
"Sure is," Frank replied. "Why?"
"I'm just telling Bjorn, he should try it."
"And you should," Frank agreed. "Here, try a slice!"

Frank picked up a slice with a fork and dropped it on Bjorn's plate.

"Okay, since you insist," Bjorn said with a smile, realizing the silliness of the situation. He was being treated as a child. But it was all in good humor. And when he picked the slice up from his plate it struck him as being softer and more moist than he had expected. Quite appetizing in fact. He tore off a bit and put it in his mouth, playing along with the situation, pretending to be more reluctant to try it than he actually was.

"Well, that's very nice actually," Bjorn said, genuinely surprised by how good it tasted.
"Not your average dry piece of meat, is it?" Ante asked encouragingly.
"No! This really is very nice," Bjorn agreed.

Bjorn put the rest of the meat in his mouth. "So this is how it's supposed to taste?" he asked.
"It sure is."
"So why haven't I had this before?" Bjorn wondered out loud.
"It costs a fortune," Frank noted dryly. "That's why."
"And yet we can afford it?" Bjorn asked. "Is this one of your tricks again, Ante?"
"Tricks? No, no. I got this from Pingo. And it didn't cost a fortune, by the way. It cost less than the Norwegian stuff."
"Really?"
"Well... I don't know for sure, since Pingo does not even have the Norwegian stuff. But the only reason this Spanish ham is so darn expensive in Norway is the high tariffs. I'm pretty sure the Norwegian ham is more expensive than the Spanish, though. Without the tariffs, that is."
"Yeah, and even if it cost the same. Who would choose the Norwegian over the Spanish ham?" Frank added. "Without the tariffs, the Norwegian cured ham industry would be out of business in no time."

Bjorn cut a slice of bread for himself. He wanted to try more of the ham, and a thin slice of bread would do nicely as a base for piling up a juicy little heap.

"And this is exactly why we will have to stop people smuggling in food and drink from Lundby," Frank continued. "It's official now. We have to start confiscating stuff that people take with them from the colony."
"Really?" Ante asked. "So they finally got around to dealing with this problem?"
"I got a long mail from Oslo yesterday evening. We've basically been reclassified as a customs office."
"No big surprise there," Ante said. "You've been predicting this for weeks now, haven't you?"
"I sure have," Frank replied with a smug smile.

Bjorn took a bite out of his ham sandwich. "It's kind of unfair, isn't it?" he commented, savoring the delicious flavor of the ham.
"What you mean?" Frank asked, puzzled by Bjorn's comment.
"I mean. Why can't people have this ham if they want to. We'll still be having this, right? We won't have to pay any tariffs?"
"No, we're fine. We're actually inside the colony, so we can just keep shopping at Pingo," Ante replied. "Isn't that so, Frank?"
"Yeah... Well... Even if we weren't. It's not like we'd report ourselves, and tax ourselves. But anyway... We're definitely not bound by the import regulations. Of course not."
"So we can have this nice cheep food. But anyone living in Neiden or beyond will have to pay prohibitive taxes," Bjorn commented.
"Sure. But that's true for everybody. Everybody in Norway have to pay their taxes, including tariffs and other fees. What's so unfair about that?"
"Well... It just seems unfair."
"You know. You're starting to sound an awful lot like Thomas," Frank noted, looking critically at Bjorn, and then over at Ante who appeared to agree with Bjorn.

"You're talking about me?" Thomas asked, appearing in the doorway together with Espen, as if the mere mention of him had made him magically appear.
"Yes, we are," Ante replied with a broad smile. "Frank here, was wondering why you're even at this checkpoint. So why don't you tell him?"
"Is that so?" Thomas asked, looking over at Frank, heading for his regular spot.
"Well, not exactly. I know how you got here."
"You do? Well... why don't you tell me, because I have no idea how I got here."
"You're kidding?" Frank chuckled. "Of course you do. You're not that absent minded."
"No. But I actually made an effort not to get this job, yet I got it anyway."
"Really?"
"I made no secret of anything. I told them truthfully that my only reason for applying for this job was that I had to in order to keep my unemployment benefit. Yet I got it. And then I was trapped. If I refused to take the job, I'd loose my benefit. So here I am. And I have no idea why. I'm sure they must have had better candidates than me."

Thomas started eating his breakfast. "Come to think of it, I have no idea why you are here either," Thomas continued, looking over at Bjorn.
"Me?" Bjorn replied feeling strangely hurt by Thomas' flippant remark. Then, realizing that Thomas had a valid point, Bjorn pretended to shake the remark off by an equally flippant reply to the effect that he too had no idea why he was given the job. And to Bjorn's quiet horror, he realized that what he was saying was entirely true. He had no idea why he got the job, and seeing that he was not very good at it, and that other candidates must have been younger, fitter, and better qualified than him, he was suddenly struck by a feeling that he was somehow hand picked by someone. Not for his abilities, but for his lack there of.

168

Bjorn hurried back to the barracks, a little shaken by Thomas' matter of fact observation that anyone sitting in the glass cage during a raid would almost certainly be dead before they knew what was happening. However, Thomas followed up his observation by asserting that no one in the village was planning any such raid. Thomas could think of no one who would be even remotely interested in attacking the checkpoint. And this assertion, although only based on Thomas' limited experience with the village, went a long way to neutralize his initial remark. The truth of the matter remained, though. If anyone got the idea that they should target the checkpoint, killing whoever was sitting in the glass cage would be an almost risk free enterprise. Wiping out the entire checkpoint on the other hand, would require more risk taking and more fire power.

The implications of Thomas' observation were disturbing, not least because of its general nature. Guards and police officers could easily be killed, and the only reason this was not happening more often was the fact that most people do not see guards and police officers as a threat or a problem. The best way to stay safe was in other words to stay friendly and polite with whomever one was set to guard.

Bjorn entered the barracks with his thoughts still circling around Thomas' uncomfortable observation, making him feel mildly paranoid. So when he passed the door to the common room, he was distracted by the sound of the TV. Bjorn peeked into the room, and when he did not see anyone, he figured he might as well go in and turn off the TV set.

Bjorn headed towards the easy chairs in front of the TV, looking for the remote control. And having convinced himself that the room was empty, he got quite a start when he suddenly became aware of someone sitting in one of the big padded chairs. It was Geir watching TV, something that should have have come as no surprise at all. But Bjorn could not help jumping back the moment the man turned idly towards him to see who was sneaking up on him.

"Oh! It's you," Bjorn said for lack of anything better to say.
Geir looked puzzled. "Yeah?" he asked.
"You gave me a start."
"I did?"
"I didn't expect to find you here," Bjorn continued. "We're having dinner."
"I know. I'm fine though," Geir replied with a friendly smile. Geir pointed to a plate full of bread crumbs on the little table next to him. "I've just eaten," he explained.

Bjorn felt suddenly embarrassed by the whole situation. He excused himself for sneaking up on Geir, as if Geir was the one who had been startled. Geir on the other hand, simply gave him a friendly but indifferent smile as Bjorn retreated to the hallway.

Bjorn's embarrassment turned to irritation even before he entered the kitchen where he sat down in silence, next to Frank. He proceeded to scoop up rice and curry for himself from the pots put out on the table, glad to note for himself that his colleagues were fully occupied, listening to Ante who was recounting the episode when Pedro entered his apartment and everybody tried to leave through the back door.

Frank and Espen were taking great delight in Ante's colorful rendition of what happened, and Bjorn could not help feeling better by just listening to the man. The way Ante put it, it was pretty much all a farce, a lighthearted comedy with plenty of lame excuses and silly anecdotes. John too was being amused by the story, but he looked skeptical. His impatience with what Ante was saying was growing, and finally he blurted out what was on his mind.

"You know, that wasn't Pedro you were talking to," John said with conviction. "Pedro does not exist."
"Really?" Ante asked, thrown off track by John's sudden interruption. "So who was it?"
"I don't know, but it wasn't Pedro, that's for sure?"

Everyone looked at John in puzzlement.

"Pedro is just a made up guy," John continued. "He's a fiction."
"But we just had a conversation with the guy down in Lundby," Bjorn protested.
"And what did he look like?" John asked.
"Ah... Like your average Portuguese guy, I guess."
"So you don't actually know who you were talking to, do you?" John continued. "It could have been anyone."
"Sure, but..."

There was a silence in the room as everybody tried to digest John's unexpected and rather startling assertion.

"But he presented himself as Pedro, right?" Espen ventured, looking over at Ante.
"Yeah."
"And he had the keys to the apartment?"
"Sure."

Espen took a sip of his beer. "So it does not really matter who he was, does it? For all practical purposes, the man you were talking to was Pedro, no matter who he actually was."
"What you mean?" John asked, clearly irritated. "Of course it matters who he was."
"How?"

John was speechless. He had no answer.

"And that plane you saw last night," Frank said, turning to Bjorn. "I got confirmation from Oslo that it must have been Pedro."
"So there we are," Espen continued calmly. "There is a Pedro, real or not, flying in to Lundby and behaving like Pedro. Why shouldn't we simply assume that he is indeed the man he claims to be?"
"Because he is a fiction," John protested.
"And how do you know that?"
"There's nothing on him anywhere. There's only a few mentions here and there, vague references. And this idiotic claim that he is somehow responsible for all sorts of stuff."
"Like the corruption scandal in Portugal?" Bjorn suggested.
"Yeah... Like that. You see, he is a convenient fiction."

Espen scratched his ear. He was clearly not convinced by John's argument. "But don't you see that it does not really matter who the man actually is. As long as he does all the things that we expect Pedro to do, he is Pedro. regardless. Your little theory has no value. Even if you are right, and the man is simply an actor, he still has all the attributes of Pedro, and for practical purposes, that's all we need to know."

There was another silence. Espen's assertion seemed right. Yet Bjorn could not quite free himself from thinking that there was something to John's view too, and that it did indeed matter if his theory was right or wrong. But Frank broke into the silence before Bjorn could make up his mind.

"You know. I never met the man. I never talked to him" Frank said thoughtfully. "And I think Espen is right. It does not matter one bit whether he is the actual Pedro or not. As long as he does all the Pedro things, he's Pedro as far as I'm concerned."

And with this, Ante was free to resume his story. Things were settled, as it were. And even though John was far from convinced by Espen's assertion, John did not push his theory any further. Bjorn did not know what to think, but Espen's practical approach to the whole thing made a lot of sense. However, what really caught Bjorn's attention was Frank's insistence that he had not had any contact with Pedro. If true, that would mean that Frank was not necessarily corrupted by Pedro, and that Bjorn's schedule for the coming week was somehow leaked to Pedro from somebody else.

164

Bjorn focused on his PC again, re-reading the sentence about Pedro and his alleged involvement in the corruption scandal in Portugal. It was hard to believe that the man he had met at the building site was the man described in that sentence. He seemed so ordinary in every way. There was absolutely nothing extraordinary about the man's appearance.

But beyond the purely superficial, the man had been quite remarkable. He had shown a real interest in both Bjorn and his fellow visitors, and his uncanny frankness about Bjorn's schedule for the coming week was flattering in a way. Pedro, the man alleged to have corrupted a prime minister, had shown a personal interest in everyone, and a particular interest in Bjorn. And that made no sense, and a lot of sense at the same time.

Pedro was no doubt a man with above average people skills. He made everybody feel special. He might not even be able to help it. It might be something he just did without even thinking. And this simple personality thing was probably what made him as good as he was at what he was doing. So even though it may not be very important for Pedro to flatter people like Olga and Igor, it was something he just did. It made no immediate sense to be that way, but why not? Why not make everyone feel special if that's something that comes easily and naturally?

But Pedro's particular interest in Bjorn was more than just instinctive flattery. It was deliberate, and difficult to comprehend, particularly considering Pedro's involvement at the very top of society. Why would someone with a personal connection to the foreign minister be interested in Bjorn's schedule? Bjorn was neither rich nor powerful, yet Pedro had detailed knowledge of his weekly schedule. It made no sense, and it felt a little spooky. If it was not for the fact that Pedro had come across as a rather likable character, it would have been down right scary.

Bjorn clicked on Pedro's name in the article in front of him, almost as if drawn to it by an external force. But the short article that it brought up was virtually unchanged from last time he had been reading it. It contained the same dated picture which held little resemblance to him, and the facts were almost as limited as last time. However, Lundby was mentioned. Lance security was also mentioned. And the corruption scandal in Portugal had a brief mention too.

Bjorn could not quite remember if any of this was mentioned last time he looked for information on Pedro, but he felt sure that the article had been edited. He would certainly have remembered if Pedro's alleged connection to the Portuguese prime minister had been mentioned. Someone had added to the article. Someone out there was keeping an eye with him. And why not? It would have been rather strange if such an important figure had no mention at all. The odd thing was not that the man had a mention in Wikipedia, but rater that his mention was as brief as it was.

Returning to the article on the empire, Bjorn clicked on the link to Ingunn, a woman that he vaguely remembered reading about in connection with some weird anarchist activity. And the article on the woman was surprisingly long, with numerous pictures and a long list of references. The contrast to the article on Pedro was striking, a consequence, no doubt, of the different strategies taken by these two people as regards their public visibility.

Ingunn was clearly someone who must have liked and enjoyed the attention that she got from her activities, while Pedro was just as clearly doing his utmost to stay out of the limelight. And from a brief reading of the article on Ingunn it was clear that Pedro's strategy was by far the wisest one.

163

Bjorn looked up from his PC again. The low sun was slowly descending towards the mountains to the north west, and was starting to shine into his room. He pulled the left curtain to prevent the glare from shining into his eyes, but he did this reflexively as his mind was fully occupied by the last bit of information that he had picked up about Pedro.

A lot of pieces were suddenly falling into place. If Pedro had indeed been behind the corruption of Portugal's prime minister, and Bjorn saw no reason to doubt this rumor, then this could easily explain why the man was so elusive. A person involved in that kind of business would hardly be interested in a lot of personal attention. It was suddenly clear why Pedro was deliberately keeping a low profile. But more importantly, the rumor had in it an explanation as to Pedro's true business model, and his reason for being involved in the Lundby project.

Pedro was involved in corruption at the very highest level. He was a master thief, as it were. And it suddenly dawned on Bjorn how thoroughly ridiculous the whole Dr. Evil idea had been. Why spend huge resources on a doomsday machine, risking his own life and safety in the process, if the treasury of a nation could be emptied by simply bribing the key holder?

Corruption, when done correctly is virtually risk free, which explains why the private sector never built a doomsday machine. Such horrible devices are the domain of governments. Only statesmen of powerful nations would ever dream of building, let alone using, such a horrible weapon. Only statesmen have virtually unlimited resources available to kill hundreds of thousands of civilians, just to make a political statement. No private organization would ever do such a mad thing, not least because the alternative is both virtually risk free and far more lucrative in terms of profits.

But corruption is not completely risk free. There is always the chance that something could go wrong, and if so, Pedro might have to answer questions by a high court. He might have to spend time and resources on defending himself. He might even have to spend a few years in jail. And so, just to be on the safe side, Pedro has found himself a nuclear bunker where he can hide out, just in case.

It all made perfect sense, and Bjorn felt very pleased with himself for having figured it out on his own. "That's it," Bjorn thought with a smile. "I cracked it!" But then another thought struck him, and he realized that he had only solved a part of the puzzle. Pedro and the foreign minister were after all friends, or at least on friendly terms, and this could not possibly be a good thing, considering the fact that the foreign minister was pretty much running the show as far as the Norwegian state was concerned.

The foreign minister had acted completely independently when he ordered the bombing of Libya. And if mass murder on behalf of the Norwegian people was within his capabilities, then the treasury too may well be within his personal reach. Who would stop him if he decided to make an "emergency transfer" to "safeguard" the sovereign wealth fund? Would there be any questions asked? No one seemed particularly bothered about the Libya campaign. Would people even notice if Pedro got a way to subtly empty the wealth fund?

There was no way to know anything for sure, and all of this was of course pure speculation. Bjorn had no way to know if any of this was actually happening. The only thing he knew for sure was that Pedro and the foreign minister were somehow connected, and that Pedro was quite probably a master of corruption, a man with access to power and money almost beyond comprehension.

159

What exactly was Pedro having in store for him on Tuesday, Bjorn wondered. Now that it was established that Pedro was right about Wednesday, it seemed unlikely that he would be wrong about Bjorn's schedule on Tuesday. There would be some sort of test, and Bjorn would be judged according to his performance, but what exactly the test would entail was unknown.

It did not matter much what it was all about, though, Bjorn concluded, since the test was no doubt set up to test his personality in some way. There was some final test for him to clear before his assignment on Wednesday, and all he had to do on Tuesday was to act naturally, and pretend that he did not know that he was being tested.

But now that Pedro had hinted on the test, it was impossible for Bjorn to completely rid himself of the sense of self consciousness that comes with such knowledge. He felt watched and monitored, even in his own room. And on that note, his attention was drawn to a sun glare coming from a window or similar reflecting surface down in the village.

Suddenly, Bjorn got the creepy feeling that the whole village was watching him, but he lay the absurd thought quickly to rest, focusing instead on where the glare was coming from. He picked up a pair of binoculars and directed them towards the village, but the glare was gone before he found its source. Instead, he found himself studying Gus's gun store, partly hidden behind the little hill where Gus had set up the installation of fences and other defensive hardware.

"He has a clear view of us from that top window," Bjorn thought to himself as he studied the house that had once belonged to Ante's grandparents. "But he'd be an idiot to fire anything at us from that position. It is too far away and too obvious a target for a counter strike."

However, Bjorn could not completely free himself from an uneasy feeling that the bunker boys might have been right after all. Some of the stuff Gus had on display on his posters were hardly defensive, and if people were stocking up on that kind of weaponry, an attack on the checkpoint could easily be made. But it would be suicide for whoever attempted it. The air force would be called in, and the rebels would quickly be crushed. They would never reach Neiden, and even if they did, what could they do?

Only a suicidal bunch of madmen would attempt an attack on the checkpoint, and as far as Bjorn could judge, Lundby was not exactly brimming with such people. True, some of the folks down there were running away from the law, and Einar had even killed a man. But everyone seemed to have purely defensive concerns. And then there were people like Pedro and Jan who would hardly approve of such an attack. Those men would only stand to loose if things went completely haywire,

An attack on the checkpoint would be both suicidal and meaningless. If it ever happened, it would be a random act of violence, or an act of desperation, a final retaliation against a great injustice. And as long as no one was pushing them up against a wall, an attack was extremely unlikely, even if technically possible.

And while thinking of this, Bjorn realized that he was not much more exposed to violence where he was than he would have been on any other military base. Military personnel were increasingly being targeted by islamists and other loonies. He was probably no more exposed to such random violence at the checkpoint than anywhere else. But Gus' clear line of sight was nevertheless a little unsettling.

158

Back in his room, Bjorn put the little bottle of medicine on the table in front of the window. Then he sat down and studied it idly for a while before putting it in a drawer together with the little measuring cup that came with it. The label said nothing about what was actually in the bottle. There was no list of ingredients, and no mention of the cannabis oil that David talked about. The full text on the label was "David's Anxiety Relief" with "secret recipe" as a sub-title. That was it, plain and simple.

The lack of information on the bottle did not bother Bjorn, though. In fact, it was probably for the better. If it had said cannabis oil on the label, and someone like Geir happened to come across it, it could easily mean trouble. This way, no one would know just by looking at it that it was in fact contraband.

Bjorn felt confident that the medicine was as harmless as David had said, not least because he knew from experience what sort of effect he could expect. Way back, before he met his ex, he had been smoking pot quite regularly. And the warm and fuzzy feeling he got from it was nothing but pleasant. But he dropped the habit when he became a father, and even during his extended period of unemployment, he had not bothered to take it up again.

Holding the bottle in his hand, reading the label, he had been tempted to try the medicine right away, but remembering David's instruction, only to take it just before going to bed, he had put it away in the drawer instead. He felt terribly anxious, though. The day had been way more eventful than he had imagined, and much of it with a sinister undertone. Like Pedro's shameless claim to know his weekly schedule.

And someone in Oslo was apparently also taking a personal interest in Bjorn's schedule. It was all a little spooky. Why were these people singling him out, he wondered.

Bjorn had to admit he knew the answer, though. Bjorn and Espen were being asked to check out the airport precisely because they were so bad at that kind of things. And the one most likely to benefit from this was Pedro. Pedro was behind this, and someone must have told him who to pick for the assignment on Wednesday, and that someone was most likely Frank.

Frank was no doubt corrupted, and Pedro was pulling his strings, either directly or via Oslo. In fact, leaving Oslo out of the picture, simplified things quite a bit. Oslo was probably just a lame excuse invented by Frank to divert the attention away from himself. Frank had most likely been in direct contact with Pedro who had simply called Frank and told him to send his two most incompetent men.

But knowing who had been talking to whom, did not really solve the mystery. The real mystery was not who were behind this, but rather why. What was Pedro up to out at the airport? What was he hiding out there? And then there was the added question of what Bjorn should do about this, now that he had evidence that he was used as a pawn in a game of sorts.

"I'm dealing with gangsters," Bjorn thought, feeling a sudden cold rush up his spine. "I better not do anything stupid, like playing the hero."

But to play the hero, he would have to know what the game was all about, and he didn't. He was clueless as to the game being played. And this thought was strangely comforting. "Some things are better left alone," Bjorn thought to himself. "And this whole mess is definitely one of them. I'll simply be my usual clueless self. That way I'll probably sail through this whole thing without any trouble."

157

Bjorn and Ante found Frank and Geir sitting in front of the TV, watching a football game, in the living room. Bjorn felt a little uneasy about his bottle of medicine, tucked into the pocket of his jacket, and had preferred to go straight up to his room. However, Ante had lead him into the living room instead, insisting that they should find out about the schedules for airport right away.

"Any news about the airplane or the airport?" Ante asked after a brief exchange of pleasantries regarding the fine weather and their trip to Lundby.
"Well, quite a lot actually," Frank replied with a nod. "I just got this long e-mail from Oslo, all about things we have to change and do in order to contain the village."
"Really?"
"Yep, they are concerned about things getting out of hand. They are even bring in the coast guard to patrol the mouth of the fjord so that the detainees can't escape by boat. That should take care of the boat taxi thing, at least for now."
"And the airport?"
"It will be opened on Thursday, after we inspect it on Wednesday."
"Is that so?" Ante asked knowingly, sending Bjorn a quick glance. "And who are you sending down there to inspect it?"
"Ah... I was thinking we could send Espen and... and you, Bjorn," Frank replied hesitantly, avoiding eye contact with Geir and focusing instead on Bjorn as if desperately curious to know what Bjorn thought about the idea.
"Bjorn and Espen?" Geir asked in disbelief before Bjorn had a chance to say anything.
"Yeah, why not?" Frank asked, pretending to think the choice an excellent one.
"But they are completely clueless," Geir protested. "I mean, even Thomas would do a better job than those two."

Frank looked at his colleagues, a little lost for words.

"They are not that bad," Frank protested. "And the exercise would be good for you, don't you think, Bjorn?"
"But they need coaching," Geir continued. "They'll just roam aimlessly around. You got to admit it, Bjorn, you would have been completely lost without me down at Ane's factory."

Bjorn didn't know what to say. Geir was right. But he did not feel like admitting it in front of him.

"I'll read up on the rules," Bjorn ventured. "We'll be fine, Espen and I."
"Exactly! That's the spirit," Frank said with a smile.
"But wouldn't it be better if I came along with them, just to see that they're not missing anything?" Geir asked impatiently. "I mean, this is the airport. It's like this huge hole in the middle of the colony, and you're sending Bjorn and Espen down there so they can exercise their skills. What sort of logic is that?"
"I can't send everybody down. I need you here, Geir," Frank protested.
"But why me? Why not send me down instead of Bjorn or Espen?"

Frank looked desperate again, searching for a reasonable explanation.

"Well, I've made up my mind," Frank said abruptly. "It will be Bjorn and Espen. That's it."
"But..." Geir protested.
"No buts about it, I've made up my mind."
"But why them?"

Frank turned his attention back to the TV, signalling that he was done with the topic.

"It isn't really your idea at all, is it?" Ante suggested, and there was suddenly an eerie silence in the room while everyone was waiting for Frank's reply.
"You're right," Frank admitted, not changing his focus from the TV. "But let's just keep this among us. I'm not supposed to tell you this."
"So who's idea is this?" Geir asked in disbelief.
"I've said quite enough, Geir," Frank protested quietly. "It was an order from Oslo. That's all I can say, and even that is a secret, so let's all forget that I said this, right?"

Ante looked at Bjorn who was more than a little surprised to have learned that someone in Oslo was taking an active interest in his weekly schedule. The two men left the room. They hung off their jackets in the hallway, and without saying much, Bjorn took his bottle of medicine up to his room, while Ante went into the kitchen to start preparations for dinner.

154

Bjorn looked over at the casino as Ante drove by at low speed, and a thought struck him about Jan and Pedro. The two men were no doubt in charge in the village, dominating its commerce with their money and influence. Yet they did not seem to engage in any kind of direct taxation. With the exception of Pedro's attempt to get rent from the stall owners, the two men were leaving everyone alone. And they even appeared in Frederico's church, as if to underscore their willingness to adhere to the golden rule. But why would they do that? Why not tax people? Why not establish a kingdom of their own? They could easily do that, with Jan having acquired special rights due to his Sami origin, and Pedro having a free pass to do whatever he pleases with the colony in return for taking care of the asylum seekers.

"Maybe they have some other and better way to make money?" Ante suggested when Bjorn aired his thoughts. "Or they may be up to something that we have no idea about."
"Like what?" Bjorn asked.
"Something sinister, like... you know... like something out of a Bond movie."
"Dr. Evil and Mini Me?"
"Yeah."
"Well, that's stupid. What sort of evil are you thinking of?"
"Maybe they are building a nuclear bomb so they can take over the world."
"Are you serious?"
"Not really."

Bjorn couldn't figure it out. But the idea that someone would spend a fortune building a doomsday device in order to take over the world was just right out lame. Especially considering that Jan and Pedro had not even bothered to take over Lundby.

"But if Pedro is right, you'll be over at the airport on Wednesday. Maybe you'll pick up some more clues then," Ante continued. "Who knows what he's up to out there. It has a nuclear bunker after all. Just the sort of place that Dr. Evil and Mini Me would love."
"It looked pretty abandoned when we drove past it last week."
"That's true. But something is going on out there, with that airplane landing there in the middle of the night and all."
"You're right," Bjorn admitted. "There's something going on. And if I am indeed asked to go down there on Wednesday..."
"Provided you behave properly on Tuesday," Ante interjected.
"Yeah. That's kind of creepy, isn't it. And he said that so shamelessly too."
"Like he owned you," Ante suggested.
"Yeah... well... he probably owns Frank."
"True. That would explain it. But you know what you should do?"
"No?"
"You should ask Frank casually about Tuesday and Wednesday, and see what he says. That way we'll know if Pedro had it from Frank, or from someone else, someone superior to him."

Bjorn thought Ante's suggestion interesting, but a little too confrontational to his liking. However, he nevertheless nodded in agreement as if he would in fact make such an inquiry.

The two men sat in silence until they reached the billboard welcoming people to Lundby and its casino, the back of which was now covered with another giant poster, thanking them for their visit and wishing them back soon.

"That's new, isn't it?" Bjorn said, pointing to the welcome back poster. "We haven't seen that before, have we?"
"No, it wasn't there Saturday night," Ante said in confirmation.
"And you are right about the armillary spheres," Bjorn continued. "They are everywhere... Just look at that!"

The welcome back poster was full of them, all subtly weaved into the background image. And when Bjorn turned around to have another look at the front of the billboard, he saw that the background image of that picture too was full of the gold colored spheres.

"How could I have missed that?" Bjorn continued rhetorically. "Now that you've mentioned it, I'm seeing them everywhere. Even Peppe's had one on a shelf."
"And the stickers in the windows," Ante added.
"Yeah. Together with the Lance stickers," Bjorn continued. "It's kind of creepy, don't you think?"
"Not really," Ante said, dismissing Bjorn's concern. "It's no worse than any other kind of patriotism. I mean... Look at our uniforms. We carry this little flag on our shoulders, and lots of people use flags whenever they have something to celebrate. We got our flag. They got their sphere."
"But they're mixing religion into this, with all that talk about the empire and the golden rule and stuff like that."
"Sure. But weren't you the one wanting to become a citizen just now?"
"Ah... Just to try it out, you know..."
"Anyway... there's much less difference between religion and politics than most people think," Ante continued.
"You think so?"
"Yeah. Frederico is right about that. In politics, people believe in the social contract. That's a superstition, isn't it?"
"So you listened to him while he was going on about this?" Bjorn asked. "I thought you weren't paying attention."
"Well... I've heard it all before, you know, so I was only listening with half an ear."
"Thomas has been preaching for you?"
"Exactly."

Coming down to the fjord, passing the luxury apartments, Ante continued on his thought.

"The golden rule is not much of a superstition when you think about it," he said in a quiet voice. "The social contract, on the other hand, is quite bizarre. How can anyone be tied to a contract they never signed? Unless, of course, the social contract is simply the golden rule, and that politics have changed it into meaning obedience to authority and self sacrifice."
"But even then, it would be strange to assume that newborn babies have signed onto it," Bjorn added.
"Exactly. That's why Frederico insists that everyone have to voluntarily embrace it."
"But what about those who refuse? What about people like us, who either refuse, or simply can't embrace it due to our profession?"
"People like us will always be viewed with suspicion, I guess... Which we were, right?"
"Yeah. Were we ever? I mean... That Einar guy was pretty fierce... And Katinka."
"It was unpleasant at times, wasn't it?"
"Not too bad... but yeah."
"And we haven't even done anything for real. Imagine how these people will treat people who more blatantly break the golden rule."
"It won't be pleasant."
"It won't for sure," Ante confirmed with a nod. "They will kick you out if you don't behave. They will refuse to deal with you, and they may even kill you if you keep breaking the law."
"You think so?"
"I'm sure of it."
"Isn't that a little harsh?"
"Not really. We are talking about deliberate aggression, robbery, theft, extortion, that kind of things. People like that will have a hard time in Lundby."

Bjorn looked out on the fjord, to their left. Then, struck by a thought, he continued the conversation.

"So they are in a sense worshiping their legal system?" he mused.
"That's a good way of putting it," Ante said with a nod. "Like I said, there's very little difference between religion and politics. It's all about law and ethics in the end."

139

The steepest part of the walk up to the ridge of the hill was over and done with right at the start of their walk, and the rest was pretty much flat all the way, with an occasional incline here and there.

The rock shielding the church to the north east could be seen in the distance, but from where they were walking nothing could be seen of the village itself. And once the apartment building disappeared out of sight behind them, the port and the control tower of the airport in the distance to the east of them were the only reminders of the civilization that they were a part of.

The walk was invigorating, and Bjorn took great pleasure in feeling the rays of the sun hit him on his back.

"It's not a bad place, is it?" Bjorn asked emphatically.
"No. Not at all," Ante agreed. "I used to go for walks here with my grandparents as a kid, you know."
"Good memories, huh?"
"Yeah. Summer up here can be pretty special."
"So, where did they live?" Bjorn asked, mildly curious.
"I'll show you. We actually drove past it on the way here."
"Really?"
"Yeah. It is now occupied by this Gus guy. He has turned the living room into a store front for his guns."
"The gun shop used to be your grandparents' home?"
"Yeah."
"And your grandparents sold their house to him?"
"No. My grandmother died a few years back. And we sold it to Jan."
"And he has sold it on to Gus?"
"Yeah, I guess so. Or he is renting it out to him."

Bjorn looked over at Ante to see if he was displaying any sense of regret, but could not decipher his expression.

"So, how does that make you feel?" Bjorn inquired. "Could have been cool to have that house now, with the village coming back to life and all."
"Yeah. But we didn't know that back then. Back then, nobody lived here except during the summer. It was like a summer house, and was hardly used at all. This place was pretty much a ghost town back then, and Jan was the only one interested in buying the property."
"You think he knew about this project even back then?" Bjorn wondered.

Ante did not answer right away.

"It's hard to say," Ante said thoughtfully. "But I don't think so."
"Why not?"
"I don't think this project was planned like years in advance."
"You don't? Why not?"
"Because... Well... It sprang out of a random constellation of circumstances."
"Huh?"
"No one was planning this thing back then. What made this happen was more like an accident. It was all about the port to start with. Then they opened the iron mine, and then there was the idea of this asylum center."
"And what's random about that."
"Well... If it was planned, wouldn't there have been other offers for the house than just Jan? Wouldn't other people be interested in buying up all this cheap land too?"
"Not if it was planned by Jan."
"Single-handedly?"
"Sure, why not?"
"Well, that's just nonsense. The whole project is a collaboration between Pedro, Mons and the foreign minister. Jan was just a lucky bystander."
"Yet, he seems awfully chummy with Pedro."
"Okay, so maybe Jan was in on it too. But they weren't planning this like years in advance. How could they?"
"So, why do you think Jan wanted to buy your grandparents' place, then, if there were no plans to do anything with the village?"

Ante was again silent for a while, figuring things out for himself.

"Because," Ante answered while still thinking. "The village always had the potential to become something. Jan was betting that something would happen, something good. And right now, it seems like his bets are about to pay off. But that does not mean that he knew exactly what would happen. All sorts of things could have happened. But with a port and an airport and even an abandoned mine and factory in the area, a revival has never been totally out of the question. And so he placed his bets accordingly. Maybe he had some vague plans relating to his casino. But even that would not have been more than a vague plan since the law allowing him to open it was not even proposed back then. And this is much bigger than his casino anyway. This is a huge thing happening here, and I seriously doubt he had it all planned out when he bought my grandparents' house."

137

"Well, that's awkward," Ante said in a low voice. "What do we do now?"
"Ah... I was just showing these people around," Georgio explained to Pedro at the far end of the hallway.
"I can see that, Georgio. But why are you hiding your guests from me?"
"I'm not hiding them. I... We were... I mean, we were just about to leave."
"Is that so?"
"Yeah!"

Pedro looked unimpressed by Georgio's explanation.

"You know! Why don't you all come down here so I get to meet you guys?" Pedro continued. "If you have time, that is."

Georgio looked at Ante and Olga who both did as if they could spare a few minutes, nodding and smiling sheepishly.

"Okay, why not?" Georgio replied, still pretending that their rush to leave had nothing to do with Pedro and his guests entering the apartment.

"As you can see, I have some guests here of my own," Pedro continued, as Georgio and his guests headed towards the kitchen. "This is Jan and his two daughters, Vera and Hannah. They run the casino in the village, and Jan owns most of the land around here, isn't that so Jan?"
"That's right," Jan replied with a smile.

"And, who do we have here?" Pedro asked politely as Georgio came into the kitchen with his guests.
"Well, this is Olga and Igor from the village, and Ante and Bjorn from the Neiden road checkpoint, and this is Einar, my assistant," Georgio explained.

"And this must be your hand bag," Pedro commented, handing the bag over to Olga.
"Yes, thank you," Olga answered, looking bothered and embarrassed.
"And what sort of business are you in, Olga?" Pedro asked, looking genuinely interest.
"I'm running a sewing factory... cooperative."
"A sewing cooperative. Here in Lundby?" Pedro asked rhetorically, "Well, that's great."
"You think so?"
"Absolutely. Entrepreneurship is what Lundby is all about. What sort of things are you making?"
"Dolls and fluffy animals. And jackets and... well... lingerie."
"That's quite a range of different stuff," Pedro commented. "How many are you all in all."
"It's just me and two others here in the village, and three over in Nikel. Six all in all."
"So there's plenty of room for expansion?"
"There is," Olga replied with a modest smile.

"And you're her proud husband, I take it?" Pedro continued, looking at Igor.
"Yes, I am... Very proud of her."
"You work together?"
"No. I work for Pingo."
"When you're not driving people around at night, that is," Ante added.
"Well... Only when I'm off work."
"You drive people around?" Pedro asked.
"Yeah... Like a taxi service."
"A taxi service?"
"You know... Those apps that you can use. And you get a car to drive you from A to B."
"Yes, I do. Which one are you using?"
"A2B."
"Cool name, don't you think?" Pedro asked with a smile.
"Yeah."
"You know, I own that app."
"You're kidding?"
"Well... I own ten per cent."
"You do?"
"Absolutely!" Pedro replied with a satisfied nod. "I see a great future in that kind of services."

Then, looking at Einar, he asked how he was doing, working for Georgio.

"I'm doing fine," Einar answered.
"He's very talented," Georgio added. "He's been a great help."
"And what sort of plans do you have when you're finished here?" Pedro asked. "You're not going to Venice with Georgio and his friends, are you?"
"Oh no... That won't happen," Einar answered. "I don't know what I will do... I'll find something."
"I'll need a carpenter or two one of these days," Jan commented.
"Is that so?" Einar asked.
"Yep... You seem a little young, though. How old are you?"
"Fourteen."
"So! That's younger than I thought."
"How old did you think I was?"
"Seventeen... Or what do you think, Vera?"
"Yeah... More than fourteen, any way," Vera replied.
"But you know your stuff, do you?" Jan continued.
"He does." Georgio replied on Einar's behalf. "Do you already have a master carpenter?"
"I'm negotiating with one right now."
"Well, I would not hesitate to recommend Einar to him."
"Okay," Jan said with a nod. "You know... Give me a call when you're finished working for Georgio."

Jan handed a business card to Einar, who accepted it with stunned appreciation.

"And how are things up at the checkpoint?" Pedro asked, turning to Bjorn and Ante.
"Can't complain, really," Ante answered.
"You got any special skills?"
"No, not really," Ante answered modestly.
"He's one heck of a chef. But apart from that, no." Bjorn added with a smile.
"Is that so?" Pedro asked. "You're the chef up there?"
"Kind of, yes."
"Kind of?"
"Oh, come on now," Bjorn said, turning to Ante. "Of course you are. He's really talented!"
"Good enough to come work for me?" Pedro asked.
"Hey, wait a minute!" Bjorn protested. "He's our chef."
"He is your chef?" Pedro asked. "You own him?"
"No, but..."
"And what about you?" Pedro continued, still looking at Bjorn. "Do you have any special skills?"
"No... Not really."
"You've been a soldier all your life?"
"No. I worked as an engineer once."
"You did?" Pedro asked. "So, why have you joined the army?"
"Ah... Because... I'd rather be in the army than an engineer."
"Why?"
"It's easier... And it pays just as well."
"It does?"
"After taxes," Bjorn added.

Pedro looked at Bjorn for a moment, as if he was considering whether or not to tell him a secret.

"You were over at Ane's factory the other day, weren't you?" Pedro asked.
"Yeah. Together with Geir. Why?"
"Nah... Nothing. Ane told me about you. That's all."
"She did?"
"Nothing bad... Just that you were over there at Wednesday, was it?"
"Yeah. She told you that?"
"She did indeed... But never mind that. What sort of stuff did you do as an engineer?"
"Ah... Electronics. But mostly programming towards the end."
"Is that so?" Pedro asked with a pleased smile. "What sort of programming?"
"Scripts, web pages, and some low level stuff."
"Well, that's very interesting," Pedro said with a nod. "We're looking for programmers."
"You are?"
"Well... Not me so much as my technical guru... You know... I'll introduce you to him on Wednesday."
"This coming Wednesday?" Bjorn asked puzzled.
"Yeah."
"But, when?"
"When you're down at the airport anyway."
"At the airport?" Bjorn asked even more puzzled.
"Sure. Haven't Frank told you?"
"No."
"Well," Pedro said with a knowing smile. "Then you have it from me. You'll spend most of Wednesday at the airport, together with Espen, provided you don't misbehave on Tuesday."
"And what's going to happen on Tuesday?" Bjorn asked.
"That's for me to know and you to find out," Pedro answered with a smile. "If I told you everything ahead of time, life wouldn't be any fun, would it?"

119

Ante and Bjorn were finishing their breakfast, eagerly anticipating their Sunday outing, when Frank appeared in the kitchen.

He looked unusually relaxed and pleased with himself as he sat down for breakfast.

"So, what are you two up to today?" Frank asked, sensing their eagerness to leave.
"We're going down to the village," Ante answered.
"And why not?" Frank asked rhetorically. "It looks like it will be a nice day."
"It does indeed."
"Any special plans?"
"No, not really. I'll show Bjorn around, and we plan to have lunch at Peppe's."
"So you're planning to leave us here alone to take care of our own lunch?"
"No, no... There's a lasagne in the fridge, ready to go into the oven. I've told Thomas all about it. He'll get it baked."
"Well, that's awfully good of you, Ante. You really know how to take care of us, don't you?"
"You guys are always on my mind, you know," Ante answered with a big smile.

The men chuckled and Bjorn took the opportunity to gather his things, casually mentioning the incident with the private jet as he did so.

"Is that so?" Frank asked. "That's certainly interesting."
"The airport isn't opened, is it?"
"No it isn't, and we don't have anyone down there to check what they are bringing in or taking out of the colony."
"Is there any plans to open it, though?"
"I believe there are. But it will of course have to be properly regulated when it happens. Can't have people flying in and out of the colony without any control, can we?"
"No, of course not."

Frank ate quietly, watching Ante and Bjorn put their plates and cutlery into the dishwasher.

"I'll inform Oslo about what you saw, Bjorn," Frank said as the two headed for the exit. "Are you back before dinner?"
"Yes, we'll be back after lunch," Ante confirmed.

Then, turning around in the doorway, Ante asked Frank about the dress code for going to Lundby.

"Is it all right if we go like this?" he asked. "In uniform, I mean."
"Sure," Frank replied. "And keep the guns on you too. We need to be more visible to the villagers, show them that we're watching them. That kind of thing, you  know."

Ante looked over at Bjorn who had followed the exchange of words.

"Is that all right with you too, Bjorn?" he asked.
"Sure, why not?"

Bjorn had been thinking that he and Ante would have to change into civilian clothes since this was a non-official outing. But he had no strong feelings either way, and simply grabbing the jacket hanging on the rack by the exit was certainly more convenient than having to change in and out of civilian clothes.

The two men put on their coats and stepped out in the cool crispness of the arctic spring weather, loudly pronouncing a final goodbye to Frank in the kitchen as they did so.

118

The vision of the airplane stuck to his mind, and with nothing else to occupy him, Bjorn found himself speculating around it, wondering if he had missed something important. But he could not remember any mention of anything that could explain what he had just seen. And when Bjorn was relieved of his duties by Espen, he too had no ready answer to why a plane would come in like that in the middle of the night.

"A private jet?" Espen asked, trying to come up with an explanation.
"Yeah."
"Someone rich and powerful, in other words... It might have been Pedro."
"Or Jan, or that ship owner?" Bjorn suggested.
"Yeah, someone like that," Espen agreed.
"But why?"
"Well, why not?

And why not indeed? The airport was there after all, and why not take advantage of this? If the destination was Lundby, or the port, it would be the quickest way to get there.

The incident was not all that mysterious when he looked at it that way, and when Bjorn entered the kitchen carrying his empty thermos over to the sink, he told Ante about it as if there was nothing very unexpected about it.

Ante looked up from the breakfast he was eating.

"Does not sound quite right to me, though. I'd report this to Frank if I were you," he said.
"Sure, I'll send him a mail right away."
"Yeah, but have some breakfast first, will you?"

Ante pointed over to Bjorn's spot at the table. Everything was set for him to sit down and enjoy the bacon, eggs and other goodies.

Bjorn sat down, and pretty soon the two men were talking about their planned trip to Lundby.

"I used to visit Lundby quite a lot as a kid, you know," Ante remarked. "But that all changed when the place was abandoned."
"Sad story, how that went with Lundby back then," Bjorn commented.
"Sure is... It will be interesting to see how long the current revival goes on before it's all shut down again."
"You think they will shut the place down?"
"I do."
"Why?"

Ante gave Bjorn incredulous look, as if the question made no sense at all.

"Yeah, yeah, I know. It's getting a little out of hand, isn't it?" Bjorn admitted.
"A little? The place is an anarchy. Anything goes down there."
"And how do you feel about that?" Bjorn asked, curious to see if Ante was merely pointing out an obvious fact, or if he was expressing his personal opinion.
"Me? Well... I love it. But it is not the sort of place that Oslo will leave alone for very much longer... And what else can they do than shut the whole place down?"
"They could regulate it like every other place in this country."
"Sure... Which was precisely the reason this place got shut down in the first place. Lundby died due to those regulations, and it will die again for the exact same reason."

Bjorn looked at Ante with a crooked smile.

"You've been talking to Thomas again, haven't you?" Bjorn asked.
"Sure... But he's right."
"Maybe so... And if so, all the more reason for us to go down there and explore it while it still exists."
"You're damn right, we will!" Ante agreed. "Let's go down there right away."

117

The alarm on his mobile phone shook Bjorn out of his deep sleep, and the pain of being woken up so brutally made him immediately regret having agreed to Ante's deal. But he had no choice at this point but to get out of bed and replace whoever was in the glass cage.

Bjorn turned on the lights and headed to the showers for a quick wash. Then he put on his uniform and strapped on his gun before going down to the kitchen to make himself a sandwich and some coffee. A red glow to the north east could be seen from the kitchen, and for a moment Bjorn was again fascinated by the view.

"A few more weeks now, and there will be a midnight sun hanging there, just above the horizon," Bjorn thought to himself, trying to imagine what that would be like.

He poured the freshly made coffee into a thermos, and proceeded to head for the glass cage, sandwich and thermos in hand. It had stopped raining and there was a tear in the clouds, revealing the moon to the west. The cold air was invigorating, and Bjorn found himself looking forward to the six hours ahead of himself.

"Six hours of quiet solitary meditation is not a bad way to start a day," he thought, feeling content and ready to take his turn.

Bjorn was a little surprised to find Frank standing outside the glass cage, impatiently waiting to be replace, but he immediately knew his surprise was silly. He knew full well that Frank too took his occasional turn in the cage, and it was Bjorn's lack of attention to such details that had made him miss the fact that Frank was the one he was to replace.

Frank's impatience made Bjorn worried for a moment that he might be late. But on checking his watch he could see that he was in fact a few minutes early. He had nothing to be ashamed of. Frank was simply eager to get his shift over and done with, and was waiting on Bjorn in much the same way an early morning commuter waits for his bus.

On seeing Bjorn, Frank swung the belt of the semi automatic gun he was carrying, off his shoulders in preparation of giving it to Bjorn. And the following exchange of duties was brief to the point of being almost wordless. Bjorn got the gun and the key to the gun rack, and Frank headed off to the barracks with nothing but a "see you later" to wish Bjorn well.

But Bjorn did not mind the briefness of the exchange. He put his thermos and sandwich on the little ledge by the window, next to the door. Then he swung the belt of the gun over his head and onto his left shoulder where he let it hang while sticking the key to the gun rack into his pocket.

Bjorn pulled out a cigarette, lit it and took a deep puff before turning his attention to the road.

"There is not going to be much traffic at this hour," Bjorn thought with a smile. "All the more time to meditate and daydream."

And Bjorn was right. Not a single car passed the check point during the following six hours. And had it not been for a curious incident an hour or so into his guard duty, there would have been nothing to report. However, the incident was strange and somewhat eerie, and definitely something to report back to Frank.

Bjorn was sitting in his chair, sipping his coffee while the sun slowly rose to the east when he suddenly became aware of a light hanging over the mountains to the north west. The light seemed to hover in mid air like a star of some kind, gradually growing brighter.

Then he heard a distant humming sound, and he realized that he was watching a low flying airplane coming straight at him. It continued on its path straight towards him for another few seconds before turning gracefully in the direction of the abandoned airfield.

For a moment, Bjorn could see the private jet perfectly with its engines humming at low power and its sleek exterior, shiny and white. But once it disappeared behind a hill to the east, it was as if it had not been there at all. It was as if he had imagined it, and that it had not actually flown by.

116

Bjorn went straight up to his room after dinner, and feeling fully satisfied by the meal, and a little drowsy from the wine, he prepared himself for bed. Having to get up in the middle of the night, it was pretty much ideal that he felt this way, since it would allow him to have a proper rest before getting up.

Bjorn turned on the TV to have a quick look at the latest news before calling it a day. But there was nothing new going on apart from a few developments in ongoing news stories. The most noteworthy development being the sentencing to life in prison of a man who quite randomly killed a child in a play park some months ago.

The details of this story were never told, but rumors had it that he slashed the little boy's throat for no reason whatsoever. However, others held that he was an aspiring Syria fighter who could not wait to claim his place in heaven by killing an infidel. And with all the talk of what to do about returning Syria fighters, this latest rumour had caught on to the extent that many believed it to be an established fact.

One thing was certain, though. Whatever happened in the play park that day was not to be officially confirmed or denied by anyone. The court case was held behind closed doors, and apart form the accusation of premeditated murder, and the guilty sentence that had just been announced, nothing was neither confirmed nor denied about the rumors.

But Bjorn was beyond being shocked by the story. It was already an old story, and the announcement that the perpetrator was finally found guilty did not stir up any unpleasant feelings. Rather the opposite was the case. Justice had won the day, and an evil criminal was put behind bars.

In other news, there was the continuing story about the crisis, which for some reason had recently had its name changed to the recovery. One had to be an idiot to believe that things were actually getting better. But the recovery was, according to the news, now evident in everything from the stock market and commodities prices, to the ever falling gold price and stabilizing house prices. Very soon now, the man in the street would also be able to see that the recession was over, and that a new economic dawn was on its way.

The very latest political invention which would allegedly help the recovery on its way, was a proposal to outlaw the use of cash, thereby forcing every transaction to be electronic. The banks, having long ago made all electronic payments free of charge, were fully equipped for such a change, and with only the black market in contraband and illegal services really needing cash for their opaque business transactions, there was nothing to loose in a right out ban on cash.

The savings to the banks and the central bank in administrative overhead alone were phenomenal, and the tax man could easily pull in several percent more in revenue through an increased power to monitor and track every transaction. Criminals were in fact the only ones who would loose anything by a move to a cashless society, and the bill was already well on its way to become law, which would make Norway the first country in the world to fully embrace such a system.

Bjorn felt a sense of pride swell up in him on digesting this latest statement. As a Norwegian he would be taking part in what was truly a great leap forward, and although this was not in any way his idea, he could not help take pride in the forward looking genius and pioneering spirit of his fellow country men.

And with this sense of achievement, as it were, Bjorn turned off the TV and the lights in his room which pretty much immediately had him fall into a deep dreamless sleep.

115

By the time Bjorn got out in the hallway, everybody were clattering down the stairs, except for Frank who came staggering out of his room apparently just woken up from a dream.

"Hi Frank," Bjorn said cheerfully. "I need to talk to you about a thing."
"About what?" Frank asked grumpily.
"About a boat taxi I came across last night."
"I know, I know," Frank interjected. "Geir told me all about it."
"He did?" Bjorn asked, feeling a sting of disappointment.
"He sent me an e-mail."
"Oh... So that's taken care of then?"
"I've reported it on to Oslo," Frank explained, leading Bjorn towards the stairs. "We don't have the resources to control the entire coast line for this kind of thing, so my suggestion is that we should employ the coast guard to patrol the entrance to the bay. That way every boat coming and going can be controlled as they pass through the narrow straight to Kirkenes."

Bjorn nodded in agreement, as he walked down the stairs. Frank sure knew his stuff. He might be a show off, but he had a good head on his shoulders, at least when he made an effort to use it.

Sitting down at the table, Frank was not very happy to see his gun, but revealed no concern about this apart from an almost undetectable twitch. Then, he simply pulled the gun towards himself, and lay it across his lap. Frank was obviously in no mood to talk about the gun, and Ante, together with Bjorn, pretended to be completely ignorant about it. And with John and Espen either oblivious to it, or sensing the unspoken tension related to the gun, did not remark on it either.

And to make absolutely sure that no one would mention the gun, Bjorn announced to everyone his intention to go out with a plate of food and a glass of wine to Thomas out in the glass cage. And this had the desired effect of setting off the conversation on a happy and careless note.

Bjorn piled up some meat, potatoes and vegetables on a plate, poured a generous glass of red wine, and headed out to Thomas with it all, grabbing a paper napkin and some cutlery on his way out.

The rain had turned to a light drizzle, and Bjorn got to the glass cage without getting wet beyond a very light sprinkle that did not even soak into his clothes.

"Thanks, that's very good of you," Thomas said cheerfully as Bjorn entered the tiny office. "This will certainly make my time here in the cage pass quicker."
"I´m sure it will," Bjorn agreed.

Then, before heading back to the barracks, Bjorn took in the view from the glass cage. The clouds hanging low and heavy over the bay added to the fairy tale beauty of the place. The utter greyness and lifelessness conjured up the feeling that this was indeed the edge of the world, an arctic corner where no man was ever supposed to come, and which civilization had violated by adding roads and houses in godless defiance of the natural order of things.

"It's almost a little spooky, isn't it?" Bjorn asked rhetorically.
"What is?" Thomas asked, taking an initial sip of his wine.
"The view."
"I like it," Thomas said as a matter of fact.
"Me too," Bjorn agreed. "It's beautiful."

Bjorn left Thomas with his plate of food and glass of wine, heading back to the kitchen where the conversation had turned to the riots at the asylum centre in Lier. John had learned from looking around on the web that the riots had indeed been taking place at the very same place where Lars had organized his demonstration just days before, and John was sensing a conspiracy of some kind.

"So you think that Lars is behind it?" Espen asked.
"Well, he did not seem very upset with the riots, did he?" John replied.
"When was Lars ever upset with a riot?" Frank commented with a grin.
"But you have to admit it's a little disconcerting that he is targeting Lundby with his rhetoric these days." John added in defence of his theory.
"And that is why we are going to get a big fence around this place," Frank explained. "As long as we are one step ahead of the mob, we're fine."

The men fell silent on this note, and Bjorn took another sip of his red wine, only to be struck by its unusual taste.

"So what wine is this?" Bjorn asked, taking the opportunity to change the subject matter.
"It is a red green wine," Ante answered with a big smile.
"So they do exist," Bjorn commented glibly.
"They do indeed! Proves that even you can be right at times."
"Wasn't it Espen who came up with that theory" Bjorn asked modestly, turning to Espen.
"Or was it Thomas?" Espen asked.

Ante looked around the table with a smile.

"You know, maybe we should all take credit for being such good thinkers," Ante suggested.

And with this the conversation turned permanently to lighter matters. The wine drinkers at the table all agreed that the wine had an unusual feel to it which went quite well with the turkey. But they were more divided when it came to whether or not to repeat the experience. Frank and Espen thought it a nice experience as a one off, while Bjorn and Ante thought it good enough to try again, with Ante suggesting they should try the wine again one day with a duck or a goose or some similar fatty bird.

"Well, you're the one in charge of the household," Frank noted. "So I guess the decision is ultimately yours to make."
"It is indeed," Ante said smiling form ear to ear.

110

There were no more mentions of Rouge Justice in the article, and Bjorn had the distinct impression on having read the whole thing that the mention of the company was something of an afterthought, as if the author of the article had had a hard time believing the existence of the company herself.

However, there had been a series of incidents lately, in places like London and New York, where people had been assassinated in what seemed to be acts of extrajudicial justice, and Bjorn could not help being reminded of these incidents on having read the article.

The most famous case was the killing of a Syria fighter returning to his native England. The jihadist had been met by two police officers at Heathrow airport, and was being escorted out of the building when his head pretty much exploded from a bullet entering his forehead and ripping out most of his brains on exiting on the other side.

The shot had been fired at a relatively short range, and at a top down angle which had seen the bullet lodge into the asphalt right behind the victim. The spot from which the shot had been fired was quickly identified, but the investigation of the incident came to nothing, despite the enormous amount of video surveillance available. Several suspicious individuals had been seen both entering the Heathrow area shortly before the incident, and leaving the area shortly after the shot was fired. However, no one was ever apprehended, and the official narrative of what had actually happened shifted as time progressed.

To start with, the police promised a swift and effective investigation, clearly confident that their enormous stack of video surveillance would soon reveal who the killer was. However, as time passed and no progress was made, all sorts of conspiracy theories started evolving, and in the end, the police seemed happy to give some support to the idea that it had been the English secret service, the CIA or some similar government agency that had been behind the assassination. The victim was after all suspected of having beheaded an American reporter, and his prompt execution on returning to England was by and large a popular one. A narrative in which the assassination was in fact planned and executed by government agents was in other words a desirable one from a purely political perspective.

But Bjorn did not buy it. There were too many inconsistencies in the new semi-official narrative, and the assassination at Heathrow was by no means the only one. Jihadists were dropping dead all over the place it seemed, if they were in fact all jihadists that is. And these other cases were generally played down in the media, which Bjorn took to indicate that people in powerful places were determined to keep these cases out of the public eye.

Bjorn found it much more likely that someone, or some group of people, had taken it upon themselves to execute who they themselves regarded as dangerous elements. And Bjorn was not the only one to be of this opinion. He had been following several web sites that claimed to report stuff that the government controlled media was either playing down, or ignoring all together, and he had seen how the reports were getting ever more ugly. And there seemed to be a growing sense among many that some sort of extrajudicial justice was warranted and desirable as long as the government seemed more concerned about protecting the perpetrators of crimes than to prosecute the criminals and have them properly sentenced.

It was the episode in Paris a few years back, where a raving anti-Semite had shot several Jewish school kids, execution style, and posted it on the web for all to see, that had turned talk into action, it seemed. The man had barricaded himself in a council flat, shooting at the police from the windows of his council flat, when he suddenly dropped dead just as the police was moving a robotic tear gas launcher up to the window.

The police was determined to catch the man alive, and was very upset to find him dead on the floor when they entered his flat. They reported it as suicide. But it could not possibly have been the case since the bullet that killed him was of a calibre that did not match any of his weapons. Someone had shot him dead, and it was not the police, nor the man himself. And ever since, a string of similar episodes kept popping up. Outrageous criminal behaviour such as the episode in Paris kept being met with fairly prompt executions, which in turn were covered up by the police, reported as suicides, or pretended to have been planned and executed by the authorities themselves.

But to think that a company existed out there with assassinations of this kind as its business model seemed a far stretch of the imagination. Killing people could hardly be a regular business. However, if Rogue Justice was more like an alias for something else, it could make some sense. Its mention in the article was in a way a message to people that assassinations are fully supported by powerful individuals in Lundby, provided the right conditions are met. It was in a way a green flag to anyone contemplating such an action, and a giant red flag to anyone considering a terrorist attack on the village. The way the company was mentioned was in many ways a clear message to people to feel free to create such a service if they feel it warranted. Neither Pedro nor Jan would object to it, provided the targeted person was plainly and clearly a dangerous criminal.

And it was while he was lost in speculations like these that Ante suddenly came into the room, all smiles and happy, calling on Bjorn to give him some attention. Bjorn was at once distracted from his thoughts, and was in stead confronted with Ante holding up a gun belt with a gun in it, swinging it from side to side as he asked Bjorn rhetorically to guess who's belt it was.

"It's Frank's gun, isn't it," Bjorn answered.
"And guess where I found it?" Ante continued with a smile.
"Upstairs at the casino?" Bjorn ventured.
"Exactly, and you won't believe what good old Frank has been up to."
"But you are going to tell me anyway, aren't you?" Bjorn asked.
"I am indeed!" Ante answered, smiling even broader. "He was kicked out this morning for being the biggest prick ever. He behaved as if the whole darn whorehouse was there to serve him, and although this was kind of quite for a while, it was not very welcome as the night drew to an end. So finally, they kicked him out for being a loud pain in the bum... Imagine that! Being kicked out of a brothel for being too eager!"
"But who in their right mind hangs around in a brothel for more than their allotted time?"
"Allotted time? What do you mean?" Ante asked, looking a little puzzled.
"Well, you just said he was too eager. He was hanging around there way beyond his allotted time, or am I missing something?"
"There is no such thing as allotted time in a brothel. As long as you pay, you can hang around as long as you please."
"Well, sorry for not knowing that," Bjorn answered, for once pleased to be the ignorant one. "So he paid for the whole night?"
"He did indeed."
"But isn't that expensive? I mean... Even in Lundby, that kind of services are hardly free."
"It is kind of odd, isn't it?" Ante agreed. "I have no idea where he gets the money from... and that gold card he keeps waving about..."
"He's corrupted, isn't he?" Bjorn ventured.
"By Jan and Pedro and those guys you mean?"
"Yeah."

Ante looked at the gun, and then back to Bjorn.

"You're right," Ante conceded with a concerned look on his face. "Somebody is paying him for something."
"Maybe we shouldn't talk too much about this in other words," Bjorn suggested. "Or do you think we should report this?"
"Oh no!" Ante said, suddenly fearful. "Let's just keep this under wraps."

104

Thomas got up from his chair to leave for his room, and Bjorn joined him out to the hallway. But instead of going up to his own room, Bjorn entered the living room. There was nobody there, and the silent emptiness of it seemed just right after all the emotional bickering he had been subjected to by Thomas. Not that he minded it much, but Thomas was bitter, and some of his acid remarks simply felt uncomfortable, no matter how true they might be.

It was time to put things in perspective, and focus more on the here and now. Things weren't bad, all things considered, and there was really no reason to feel upset about things completely outside his control. And again he was drawn to the view to the north as an excellent way to sooth his mind.

Bjorn decided to pull the large easy chair from in front of the TV over to the coffee table by the window. It was surprisingly light, considering how bulky it was, and it took no effort at all to place the chair squarely in front of the large window. Sitting down in it, Bjorn immediately felt a sensation of well being, and watching the snowflakes drift by, obscuring, but not completely hiding the overall view, was soothing and meditative.

He remained seated, just watching the view, for some time before feeling any urge to do anything at all, and when he finally pulled his glance back from the view he absentmindedly picked up the first thing he saw in front of him, the stall owners' leaflet that he had dropped on the coffee table before going to the kitchen for breakfast. He did so mechanically, as if merely floating about randomly, a little like the snow flakes outside, and he proceeded to look at the leaflet as if the words were carrying no meaning, focusing on its form and its lettering rather than its content.

The whole thing was nothing more than a single sheet of paper, folded in the middle to give the impression of being somehow full of information. But the font size and the generous use of whitespace made it clear that there wasn't an awful lot to be said about the stall owner's position. Then, directing his attention to the actual message in the leaflet, he started to read.

"This Land is Our Land" it said in a big fat typeface, followed by a short argument in a needlessly bold typeface laying out the fact that the stall owners were the first ones to use the village square, and that Pedro never used it for anything. Being the first ones to use the village square productively, it followed that it belonged to the stall owners, and that Pedro's attempt to extract rent from them was nothing less than neo-medieval rent seeking. And having read this, Bjorn felt certain that the stall owners were in the right, and that no argument could be formed to counter this claim. Bjorn felt happy about having signed the petition. He agreed with it full heartedly.

The pamphlet also included a list of the stall owners who had joined together to form their union, and Bjorn found himself for some reason fascinated by the list of names. He soon found Peter's name on the list. There were several East Asian names too, as well as a couple of Russian looking names, but no Norwegians. The union was in other words a union of foreigners, all making exclusive claims to Norwegian soil, and this thought, although sinister in a way, did not worry Bjorn in the least. Rather, it got his imagination going.

Bjorn could suddenly see Lundby growing into a great cosmopolitan city with people from all over the world residing there, and he felt exited by his vision. "Was this in fact the project?" he wondered as he leant back in the easy chair. "Was Lundby in fact a conspiracy to create a huge city at the top of the world? A city to dominate the world. The heart of the empire, as it were."

Bjorn's visions expanded quickly where he sat, and he could see ferry services crisscrossing the bay in front of him, buildings everywhere, tall ones and smaller ones, industry, commerce, a great industrial and commercial hub right at the edge of the world.