Blood Brothers (20 page)

“By the way, congratulations on the Financial Advisor of the Year Award,” Markus said. “Sorry I couldn’t make it to the dinner on Thursday to celebrate. I didn’t feel up to it.”

“An acute case of Daditis?” asked Tom.

“Something like that,” replied Markus. “Anyway, nice job.”

“Thanks. Mom mentioned over dinner that you are going to be keeping your role in
The Gamester
, even though the guy you replaced is out of his cast and ready to go back onstage. That’s a promotion, isn’t it?”

Markus shrugged. “I guess so. We’ve had a very good run, and I’m sure they don’t want to mess up our onstage chemistry.”

“Well, Mom also mentioned that you’ve been asked to audition for leading roles in a bunch of other plays after
The Gamester
closes.”

Markus smiled. “I don’t know if I’d call three a lot, but—”

Tom gave his brother a friendly shove. “Listen to you! I practically have to force good news out of you. It’s too bad you weren’t there on Thursday; we could have made it a double celebration.”

Markus’s smile faded and he turned back to the game. “No, we couldn’t have.”

“All right, three of us could have.”

“And Dad would have sat there and made comments that ruined the evening for everyone else.”

“You just have to ignore him when he’s like that,” said Tom.

“Maybe you can. I can’t.”

“If it bothers you so much, why do you provoke him into criticizing you? For starters, why do you drink in front of him? I know you can go all evening without a drink; I’ve seen you do it. So why break his two-drink rule every time you see him? You should know he’s going to say something.”

Markus glared at his brother. “And
you
should know that if it’s not my drinking, it’s something else—the theater, my hair, my friends. If I’m going to have to sit there and listen to his crap anyway, I might as well be a little buzzed while I’m doing it.”

“Hey, all I’m saying is that there are some little things you could do that would help take the edge off of family get-togethers, that’s all. Make small talk about the drug business or Norway, laugh at Dad’s jokes, don’t react when he makes some crack about your lifestyle. Or if you’re going to react, treat it like a joke and laugh. You’re an actor; it shouldn’t be that hard.”

“Unlike you, I don’t think having a civil dinner with my father should require me to act.”

“Fine, it shouldn’t. But guess what? It does. Pretend that he’s some new producer that you have to make like you. I have to do that sort of thing all day long. You can do it once a week during family dinners.”

“I’m sorry, Tom. I guess I’m not as good an actor as you. Or maybe being a glad-handing sycophant isn’t an act.”

Tom stared at his brother for several seconds. Then he said, “You know, I’m going to give you a pass on that one. I’m going to assume it was the beer talking.”

Markus sighed. “It wasn’t the beer. It was the jealousy. I’ve always been amazed by you. You’ve got a gift for making people like you, for fitting in to any social situation. If you’re stuck at a table with a bunch of golfers, you get them talking about all the courses they’ve played, and you seem genuinely fascinated by their stories. And if they have some bad jokes to tell, you’ll laugh at every one. You’re a chameleon. Whatever the situation calls for, that’s what you are, naturally, effortlessly. I can’t do that, at least when I’m not on stage. I can’t hide what I’m thinking and feeling. I can’t make unlikable people think I like them. I can’t pretend that the company is the be-all and end-all for me, or even that I think it’s okay that it’s the be-all and end-all for Dad. Sometimes I wish I could just blend in, go along and get along, but I can’t.” He paused and smiled wryly. “I guess I’m like Dad that way.”

Elena had just gotten back from her daily ten-kilometer run and was cooling off in her room when there was a knock at her door. She looked through the peephole to see who it was. Noelle. She opened the door. “Hi. Did Ben call?”

“He did. He and Sergei just got in. They’ll be here in about half an hour.”

“Great. How was their flight?”

“Pretty good. I think they’re going to get unpacked here and then head out to dinner. I suggested that seafood place down at Aker Brygge.”

“You’re not going to have dinner with Ben?”

Noelle shook her head. “I’ll see him when they get in, and then after they get back from dinner. Besides, we didn’t want to leave Sergei on his own on his first evening in Oslo, and we thought it might be awkward for you and Sergei if we all went out together.”

“Oh, I’m fine,” replied Elena with practiced nonchalance, “but I think you’re right about Sergei. The last time I saw him, we broke up in a restaurant and I walked out on him. That can’t have been easy for him. I don’t want his first evening here ruined by having to see me again across a restaurant table.”

“That might bring up some bad memories, huh?” said Noelle.

“It might. It’s better that we see each other tomorrow morning. He’ll be focused on work, which should make it easier for him.”

“Yeah. So, what do you want to do for dinner? Want to try that French place in the Oslo City building?”

“Sure, that sounds good.”

After Noelle left, Elena sat on the edge of her bed, cooling off after her run. Her mind kept replaying the lunch at Star of Siam when she and Sergei had broken up. She’d already gone over it in her head hundreds of times in the nearly three months since it happened, analyzing and weighing everything each of them had said, every gesture and expression. There was really no reason for her to think about it anymore, but it took an effort not to.

She sighed and forced herself to think about her visit to the Munch Museum that afternoon. Sergei was history, but he was recent history. In a few more months, she’d be dating someone else and Sergei would be a faint memory. In the meantime, all she could do was push him out of her thoughts whenever she found him there.

She was about to go take a shower when there was another knock on the door. She glanced through the peephole. It was Noelle again. “Hi. What’s up?” Elena asked when she opened the door.

“Well, uh, Ben called me again. Sergei says he has no problem having dinner with us. He suggested that all four of us have dinner at Lekter’n.”

“Ben suggested it?”

“Sergei suggested it,” Noelle clarified.

“He did? Oh.”

“I thought Sergei was just being polite, but Ben said he seemed to really mean it. I told Ben I’d talk to you and get back to him. So, what do you think?”

Elena shrugged. “If Sergei is okay with it, I certainly am. Did you guys set a time?”

“No. How about eight o’clock?”

“Perfect. I’ll come over to your room at seven forty-five.”

As soon as Noelle was gone, Elena took a quick shower and shaved her legs while mentally scheduling the remaining time before dinner. It was 5:40 when she got out of the shower. She could be at the Oslo City shopping center by 6:15. She would need to buy a new outfit. She had a suit that would be fine for tomorrow, but other than that she had mostly casual pants, tops, and shoes—the sorts of things that traveled well and were comfortable to wear while walking around museums and sculpture gardens, but were entirely inadequate for dinner with an ex-boyfriend.

She looked at herself critically in the mirror as she blow-dried her hair. She had spent a fair amount of time outdoors while in Norway and had gotten a light tan, which was good. However, she was about a month overdue for a haircut, which was bad. She debated whether she should try to get an appointment with a stylist before dinner. She decided against it. The last thing she wanted was to have a stylist she’d never met before butcher her hair. Besides, Sergei liked her with long hair.

Two busy hours later, Elena stood in front of the mirror again, making a last-minute assessment. She had found a sweater, slacks, and scarf to create an outfit that complemented her slender figure and long legs without being racy. The black fabric of the scarf also provided a nice contrast to her blonde hair, which hung a few inches below her shoulders. She wore it in a simple, straight style that was partially pulled back in an onyx-embossed hair clip. It had turned out pretty well, though she definitely would have to get it cut when she got back home.

She took a deep breath and walked next door to Noelle’s room. She knocked and Ben opened the door. “Hey, Elena. It’s good to see you.”

“Hi, Ben!” she replied as she gave him a polite hug. She glanced over his shoulder and saw Sergei standing a few feet behind. “Hi, Sergei!” she said and hugged him too, making sure to use exactly the same tone and platonic embrace she had used with Ben.

“Hello, Elena,” Sergei said. “I’m glad you could make it for dinner.”

The four of them went down to the lobby and caught a cab to Lekter’n. It was not as crowded as it had been when Noelle and Elena ate there on their first night in Norway, so they were able to get a table right on the water. A brisk breeze blew across the harbor, ridden by seagulls that floated over the choppy sea a few feet from the edge of the restaurant. They hung virtually motionless in the air as they scanned for herring in the waters below or scraps dropped by diners. Elena watched for a moment, marveling at their ability to seemingly levitate with only the occasional flick of a feather. She turned back to the rest of the group and caught Sergei looking at her, though he instantly dropped his eyes to his menu.

After a few minutes of catching-up small talk, Ben said, “So tell me more about what you’ve found at Bjornsen Norge. Based on the little bit you gave me on the phone, it sounds like you’ve come across some interesting stuff in the past couple of days.”

Noelle nodded. “I’ve been going through their expense-account backup, and I’ve been coming across some questionable entries—trips to ski resorts for directors of the parent company, art purchases that seem to have been delivered to the homes of major shareholders, and things like that. The supporting documents aren’t all in one place, of course. They’re scattered through the files and they’ve been disguised as routine business expenses in many cases, so finding them is a lot of work.” She turned to Sergei. “By the way, thanks for coming over to help, Sergei. Henrik Haugeland has been working with me, but we really need someone else with experience reviewing financial documents and a good feel for when something in them isn’t right.”

“I only have a couple of days before I have to go back,” he replied, “but in the meantime I’m happy to do what I can.”

“I’d also love to help, of course,” said Elena, “but unfortunately, I’ve never handled any financial-fraud cases.”

“That really is unfortunate,” commented Sergei with a smile. “You know, I think I still have enough pull at the Bureau that I might be able to do something about that. Do you want me to give your supervisor a call and see if he’ll put you on a nice, big bank investigation with whole servers full of financial documents for you to look at? You’ll be an expert in financial fraud by the time you’re done.”

Elena shook her head. “That’s okay. I don’t have your tolerance for danger and excitement. I’d burn out after a week.”

Sergei raised his eyebrows in mock surprise. “You’ll never know what you’re missing.”

“It takes a special kind of courage to do document review in a financial case,” said Ben, patting Noelle’s hand.

The waitress arrived with their food. After she left, Ben asked, “So, honey, what else have you found on your expeditions into the dark wilds of Bjornsen Norge’s accounting files?”

“I’m pretty sure the money from that Cleverlad account has been going straight to the expense account to cover those questionable expenses. I’ll need to track down more of the expenses to be sure the numbers add up, but it’s looking that way so far.”

“And let me guess: the directors and shareholders who went on ski trips and got art and so on all voted to kick out Gunnar.”

“Yep.”

“What a coincidence.” He paused. “Why wouldn’t Karl just bribe these guys out of his own pocket? Why do it through the company where he’d have to leave a paper trail?”

“He’d also leave a paper trail if he did it on his own nickel,” Sergei said. “One of the first things the Bureau does in a fraud investigation is get the target’s bank and credit-card records. That’s usually where the most obvious dirt is. This guy is not only keeping his records clean, he’s keeping the records of his main company clean. We had to go all the way to Norway to figure out what he’s been up to, and we only knew to make the trip because his brother happened to have a document in his files that pointed us here. If he was going to commit bribery, this wasn’t a bad strategy.”