68

Bjorn was enjoying the last few puffs of his cigarette when Geir appeared from behind the barracks on his way to relieve Bjorn from his duty. Geir was wearing a bomber jacket, and dark pilot sunglasses under the military cap that no one had been wearing thus far. And this surprised Bjorn since those were parts of the uniform that Frank had specifically told everybody that they should avoid. However, what surprised Bjorn the most was the fact that Geir was carrying a handgun in his right hand, and a belt and gun holster in his left, as if this was the most normal thing in the world.

"So what do you think?" Geir asked as he got up close to Bjorn, striking his usual self important pose.
"Are you serious?" Bjorn asked. He had always found the full uniform a little over the top, and it was weird to see his colleague wearing it like that. Keeping a low profile and not coming across as too aggressive or fearsome was after all the unwritten rule of the place, and this was pretty much the complete opposite of the friendly approachable watchman look that had been strived for.
"Dead serious!" Geir replied, handing the gun, holster and belt over to Bjorn. "And from now on, you too will have to look your best."

Bjorn looked at the gun, and the belt. "So I'm supposed to wear this thing while on duty?" Bjorn asked.
"Not only while on duty," Geir corrected. "We will from now on wear these handguns all the time, and only take them off at night."
"Really?"
"These are the new rules," Geir said with a smile. "Frank has long been unhappy with the fact that no one has done anything to prevent the villagers from arming themselves. And last night's riot in Lier was the last straw for him I guess. He called Oslo this morning, informing them that from now on there will be no more Mr. Nice Guy up here."
"He did? And they went along with that?" Bjorn asked, finding this very much out of character with typical Norwegian policies.
"Yes! Frank and Trond had a quick talk this morning, and together they have informed Oslo that they will no longer risk their men's safety."
"And they got their way?" Bjorn asked in disbelief. "Imagine that Frank and Trond have that sort of clout with the lawmakers in Oslo."

Bjorn was impressed by the story which he thought almost too good to be true. But he saw no reason to doubt the truthfulness of Geir's rendition of Frank's instructions, so he turned his attention back to the gun in his hand.

"So I might as well put this on right away, then?" he asked.
"Yep! That's the idea."

The two men went into the glass cage where Bjorn proceeded to assemble the various parts. Geir held Bjorn's gun while Bjorn put the holster on the belt, put the belt diagonally over his shoulder, and fastened it around his body. Then, getting the gun back from Geir, Bjorn checked that its safety clasp was in the right position, and that it was indeed armed with live ammo, before strapping it into the holster.

"And the semi-automatic..." Geir continued after giving Bjorn a nod of approval. "We are from now on always going to have it by the hand while on duty."
"We are?" Bjorn asked, still surprised. "Well, that does make more sense than having it always locked away like this, I guess."
"It does, doesn't it?" Geir agreed. "So, do you have the key?"

Bjorn handed the key to Geir, who proceeded to take the semi-automatic out of the gun rack and load it with a long black cartage of live ammo. Then, with a big smile, he put a belt on it which he swung over his shoulder so that the gun ended up hanging across his abdomen.

"Well, that certainly does make you look fearsome," Bjorn said honestly, knowing that Geir would take that as a compliment.
"It does, doesn't it?" Geir replied, smiling even broader.

56

Bjorn went into the kitchen first thing after being relieved from his duty, where he dropped off the two thermoses he had been using over at the kitchen sink. Ante was nowhere to be seen, which disappointed Bjorn a bit since he felt like talking to him about the strange incident with the woman and her daughter. Why would anyone drive all the way to Lundby with no passport and with no intention of leaving the village any time soon? It made no sense.

Bjorn made himself a sandwich, hoping that Ante would return while he was busy making it. However, Ante did not appear, so Bjorn took his sandwich and drifted into the living room in the hope of finding him there, but the only one there was Frank, watching the latest sports updates as usual.

Sensing Bjorn's presence, Frank turned and looked at him.

"So?" Frank asked, noticing how Bjorn seemed lost in his thoughts.
"Have you seen Ante?" Bjorn asked.
"No."
"Eh... There were quite a few people going in to Lundby to buy stuff today," Bjorn said, feeling a need to say something of substance.
"Yes?"
"People have clearly discovered the low prices of everything down there."
"Yes. It is getting a bit out of hand," Frank concurred. "Trond has already reported this to Oslo."
"Trond?"
"You know Trond! The guy in charge of the check point over at the port. People have really started to flock to Lundby for bargains. So much so that it is hurting local businesses in Kirkenes."
"It's that bad, is it?" Bjorn asked, seating himself in the chair next to Frank.
"It is, and I believe they take the problem quite seriously in Oslo."
"Silly mistake, wasn't it?" Bjorn asked, curious to hear what Frank thought of the legal loophole. "They should have seen this coming."
"It is always easy to see things clearly in retrospect," Frank observed. "I seriously doubt that anyone thought that Pedro would invite Pingo to set up shop in Lundby when they were negotiating this."

Bjorn nodded thoughtfully. "What do you think they had in mind?"
"Cheap labour for the fish processing plant and the iron mine, I guess," Frank suggested. "Which is exactly what they got, by the way."
Bjorn agreed. "It's a modern day gulag, isn't it?"
"Exactly! It is a capitalist version of what they had in the Soviet Union, which means that everyone is paid a minimum wage and left to fend for themselves, instead of getting food hand outs from the prison guards. And that's the crucial point that the bureaucrats in Oslo must have overlooked. A capitalist version of a gulag will have a grocery store in stead of food hand outs. And with Pedro not being obliged to levy taxes on behalf of the Norwegian government, Pingo's prices come out lower than those in Kirkenes and Neiden."

"And that was the deal, wasn't it?" Bjorn asked rhetorically after a bit of thinking. "Pedro agreed to take on responsibility for the asylum seekers on the condition that he would not have to answer to the government regarding anything but the basic human rights of the detainees."
"That was the deal," Frank confirmed. "And since Lundby was completely uninhabited at the time of the negotiations, the focus must have been entirely on the savings that the state could draw from the deal."
"And if anyone wondered what Pedro was hoping to get out of the deal, he could simply mention the cheap labour," Bjorn continued, expanding on Frank's thought.
"Exactly! They all knew full well that they were setting up a gulag. The bureaucrats simply assumed that it would be of the old fashioned kind. Their mistake was quite understandable, when you think about it."

Bjorn nodded in agreement. However, he still thought it hard to believe that the full consequence of the deal with Pedro was completely overlooked by the bureaucrats. Then, suddenly remembering Ane's insinuation that she had powerful stake holders in her business, people located in Oslo. He asked Frank if he thought that the oversight might have been at least partially deliberate, and that the lawmakers might have been corrupted in some way.

"That's of course always a possibility, especially with the politicians currently in charge," Frank said with a nod. "However, I don't think the oversight was very serious. All they need to do is to give us instructions to act as customs officers, and the problem will be solved."
"So, that's what you think they will do?" Bjorn asked, finding Frank's solution quite reasonable.
"I'm sure of it. However, as long as we have received no such instructions, we are in no position to start doing this yet."

Bjorn thought about the prospect of having his duties expanded. Then it struck him that the introduction of customs duties might affect his colleagues and him too. And if they suddenly had to pay duty on everything they bought in Lundby, their affluence would be gone, and they would be no better off than everyone else in the military. However, when Bjorn expressed this worry, Frank replied with a smile. "Well, I'm sure we will be able to find a way around such a situation. We're all good friends here after all, and no one would go rushing off anywhere to tell on us if we were to make an exception for ourselves."

6

Bjorn went for a short stroll along the perimeter of the ferry landing, taking in some more impressions of the place before returning to the checkpoint where he entered the small box-like structure that constituted the office. He had noticed while walking about, that Trond was checking diligently the cars that had lined up to drive on board the waiting ferry, and he asked one of Trond's colleagues, as he entered the office, if any of them had managed to catch anyone trying to escape the colony.

The man smiled at him, and said that they had not been having any such luck as of yet, before offering Bjorn a cup of coffee.

"No such luck?" Bjorn asked before accepting the man's offer to pour him a cup.
"No such luck, I'm afraid," the man confirmed, handing Bjorn a mug of freshly brewed coffee. "You see, there is a bounty on any refugee we manage to catch. We get an extra month's wage for each one."
"Is that so?"
"It is. The prospect keeps us diligent, and it makes it harder for the desperate ones to bribe their way to freedom."
"Makes sense. But you haven't caught anyone yet, have you?"
"I guess they know it's hopeless. Not only do they have to get passed us, they have to find their way into the parallel economy too, and Kirkenes is just too small for a refugee to hide."

The man looked like he was about to expand on his thoughts when he was interrupted by Trond giving him a signal through the wide window behind Bjorn, to raise the barrier that was preventing the cars from entering the ferry. The man excused himself, and turned to push a button on a dashboard, prompting the barrier to be raised, and the few cars that had been waiting to enter, drove onto the ferry, making a clattering noise as they drove onto the steel plate hanging out from the front of the boat.

Once the cars were well on board, together with two pedestrians that Trond appeared to know from before, the steel plate was raised, and pretty soon the ferry started moving away from the wharf and out to the fjord, heading for Kirkenes. Trond entered the office, and they all sat down in separate chairs, waiting for the ferry to return in two hours' time.

The sound of a TV that had been muted while the ferry had been at the wharf, was turned on again, and everyone returned to watching the football match that was being broadcasted, commenting on the game, and expressing their feelings with muted cries of excitement as the players chased the ball back and forth on the green grass, some distant place, far to the south, where spring was well on its way.

5

The ferry came to a complete stop at a wharf separated from the deep water harbour by a large round rock sticking half way into the water. The ramp was lowered, and everyone were allowed to leave, with the police officer escorting the Africans to a small office in the middle of the open area directly in front of the ferry, and the young woman, with her oversized suitcase, hurrying over to a waiting bus a bit further up.

Bjorn´s instructions, which he received a week before leaving for his assignment, were to report to the chief officer at the Lundby Port checkpoint, which had to be the office directly in front of him. But, seeing that the men at the check point would have to take care of the Africans first, he went over to the rounded rock to the side of the wharf to waste some time, climbing its moderate incline to get another full view of the port.

The deep water harbour looked completely abandoned with no sign of any activity, and if it had not been for two cars parked over by a shed at the far eastern edge of the port, he would not have guessed that anyone was there at all. However, just as he was about to turn and go back down the rock, he heard the distant clatter of a heavily loaded train approaching the port.

And as if this clatter had been some sort of signal, two men came out of the shed, heading across the tarmac of the port in the direction of the machinery designed to move iron ore onto the heap at the other end of the port. The train came into view from behind a hill to the east, coming to a slow stop as it reached the port.

Bjorn was at once fascinated by the scene where everything seemed to be moving in slow motion. Even the men walking briskly over to the heavy machinery seemed to move slowly, surrounded as they were by big structures on every side.

Bjorn tossed a glance towards the check point to see if he could stand and watch the spectacle across the water for a little longer, but to his surprise, the Africans were already gone, and nowhere to be seen. He hurried down the rock and over to the office where he presented himself to the first man he met.

"So you are Bjorn" the man said, clearly expecting him. "I´m Trond, chief officer at this checkpoint."
"Glad to meet you."
"Can I see your papers."

Handing him his papers, he could not help noticing the police officer that had escorted the Africans, standing behind him. And still puzzled about their whereabouts, he asked about them.

"They are on their way to Lundby" the officer explained, adding "on the bus" in way of further explanation.
"You just put them on the bus? Just like that?"
"Yes."
"With no escort?"
"With no escort."
"No interrogation? No nothing?"
"We just hand out these tokens, one to each of them, and the rest is up to them," the officer explained, pulling a plastic chip out of his pocket.
"You are sending them to the casino?" Bjorn asked in amazement.

The officer smiled at Bjorn´s bewilderment, before explaining that the tokens function as money in the village.

"They can of course be wasted on the casino," the officer continued, "but I think most people have other priorities when they get here. We only give them enough for the bus fair, and a single night at the local hotel. The rest is up to them."

So this was the new Norwegian policy towards asylum seekers, thought Bjorn to himself, shocked to hear that people were completely left to their own devices in this terribly hostile environment, where a night sleeping rough on the streets would see you dead before dawn.

The officer turned to a colleague, asking him to call the Neiden checkpoint to pick up Bjorn. Then he turned back to Bjorn again, explaining that the company taking care of the asylum seekers have promised to arrange shelter and food in return for non-interference by the authorities.

"We do go into Lundby to check on the conditions from time to time. And so far, everything seems to be in order," the officer continued, noting that Bjorn was still quite stunned to learn the cold hard reality of the country´s new policy towards asylum seekers.

Trond excused himself, heading over to an approaching car. "I´ll let you know when your colleague arrives. Feel free to sit down in the office, or walk around as you please."