The Catalyst Killing (K2 and Patricia series Book 3) Read Online Free

political meeting had taken place in a dusty two-room office in Smestad. Five wooden chairs, now empty, were positioned around a small desk. I commented to Trond Ibsen that it obviously had not been a large meeting. He smiled, not without irony, and replied that it was true; there were not many who had realized that the future lay in combining the best elements of Soviet and Chinese communism. It had been Falko’s great vision. The small group that had gathered around him was still somewhat scornfully called the ‘Falkoists’ by other left-wing radicals, and had at various times been ostracized by the Moscow supporters in the Norwegian Communist Party and the pro-China communists in the SYL. The people who had attended yesterday’s meeting were the same small flock of visionaries and believers who had been his friends – Marie Morgenstierne, Anders Pettersen, Kristine Larsen and Trond Ibsen himself. The fifth chair had always been Falko Reinhardt’s and so was routinely left empty in case of his return.
    I looked at Trond Ibsen, bemused. He was a slightly overweight, apparently very easygoing and clean-shaven young man. Apart from a single badge that said ‘Victory for FNL!’ and some unusually sharp-edged academic spectacles, there was little in his appearance to indicate that he was in any way radical or fanatical. He smiled disarmingly and shrugged.
    ‘The business with the chair was initially for Marie, and for Anders to a certain extent, as he also had a very close relationship with Falko. Then it just became a tradition we all took for granted. It is quite usual after accidents and disappearances for those left behind to continue to wait and hope that their loved one will come back again one day.’
    ‘Even a psychologist?’ I remarked.
    His nod was slightly sheepish.
    ‘Even a psychologist. Psychologists are also human. We are simply a little better than others at understanding ourselves and other people. One would hope,’ he added swiftly, with another charming smile.
    Trond Ibsen gave the impression of being a socially gifted man. He was at once suitably serious when I asked if he thought that Falko Reinhardt was alive. Trond Ibsen replied that he had at first, but now doubted it more and more. It was perhaps not so easy for the layman to see, he said, adjusting his glasses, but it had been obvious to him that Falko had been troubled by something in the weeks before he disappeared. Something he knew was weighing on him. It was therefore easy to assume that assassination or abduction were the most likely possibilities. Bearing in mind the topic of Falko’s thesis, it was not hard to imagine some kind of Nazi conspiracy – not that he wanted to point a finger at anyone.
    I asked immediately if his dark mood in the weeks before his disappearance might not also support the theory of suicide. Trond Ibsen straightened his glasses again and said that that would generally be a fair assumption. Everyone who had had the pleasure of knowing Falko Reinhardt would, however, dismiss this theory out of hand. He had never met a more charismatic and vibrant person, and what was more, Falko Reinhardt himself believed that he still had so much to do in this life.
    Moreover, Trond Ibsen was of the opinion that ‘dark mood’ was perhaps an imprecise description. It was absolutely clear to him, however, as he had studied psychology, that Falko had had something on his mind. Falko had been very aware of his responsibility as leader in such situations – he preferred to grapple with things alone until he had come to some conclusion, and not to bother others unnecessarily. But given the force of his personality and sharp intellect, he normally found the answer within a few hours, or certainly within a couple of days. This time, it had been hanging over him for several weeks, so it must have been something extremely difficult and important. Trond Ibsen finished with a serious note in his voice.
    As far as Marie Morgenstierne