Satellite People - [10]

‘There is one episode from last year that I should perhaps mention to you,’ he said abruptly. His voice was trembling slightly when he continued. ‘I bumped into my father on Karl Johan, where he was standing talking to a business contact. My father took me almost respectfully by the hand and said “This is Director Svendsen and he saw you at Bislett and wanted to congratulate you on winning the Norwegian Championships. And I would also like to do that. You really have become an impressively good runner!” I shook them both by the hand. Then I went and sat alone in the corner of a cafe and cried over a cup of coffee. I was twenty-six years old and it was the first time that I had ever heard my father say anything positive about my running. And the last time too.’

Leonard Schelderup had very little contact with his younger half-sister. Like his brother, he had the impression that she was unusually intelligent and determined. Even though she did not do any sports, he believed that his sister was also an exceptionally competitive person.

‘We really only meet on social occasions, and my little sister is like a cat in the company of adults. She slips in and out without making any noise, but looks like she keeps her eyes and ears keen as a predator. I suspect that her claws and teeth might also be very sharp, without ever having tried to find out,’ he concluded.

My curiosity regarding Magdalon Schelderup’s daughter was in no way diminished by this remark. In fact, it led me to conclude my interview with Leonard Schelderup relatively swiftly. He appeared to be relieved and asked for permission to continue with his training and work as normal. He shook my hand with something akin to enthusiasm when I granted him this, and promised that he would be available in the event of any further questions.

Magdalon Schelderup’s youngest son certainly seemed to be far less sure of himself here in his childhood home than when I had seen him at the Norwegian athletics championships at Bislett last year. I had to admit though that I still liked him and hoped that he was not the murderer. But given the circumstances I could not disregard that possibility.

VIII

With the few steps that it took Maria Irene Schelderup to enter the room, I understood immediately what her brother had meant with the cat metaphor. The eighteen-year-old floated in across the carpet, self-assured and almost silent, on light, agile feet. Her handshake was unexpectedly firm, without any of the trembling I had felt in her older brother’s hand. Once she was sitting comfortably in the armchair she leaned forward with something akin to eagerness, but waited to speak until she had heard my question.

In the first part of our conversation, Maria Irene Schelderup did not waste words and gave clear, concise answers. Yes, her father’s death had been unexpected. No, she had no reason to suspect anyone present more than anyone else.

Then she slowed down and added calmly that her father’s dramatic death should strictly speaking not have been a surprise – given that his life had always been so dramatic.

‘In a way,’ she added, ‘he was cut down in his prime today, at just the right time.’

I looked at her questioningly and she carried on, with equal calm: ‘My father was a very dynamic sixty-nine-year-old, but he was born in the eighteen hundreds, after all. Time was starting to take its toll. Over the past few years, he has become more cautious. You could even notice it in his driving. Before, he consistently drove above the speed limit; now he drove just under. The past decade has seen a peak in his career, but I doubt that he would have been able to lead the company on to achieve new records over the next ten years. His personality and will were just as forceful, but he did not understand the new technology well enough, nor the changing demands and expectations of younger generations. He preferred to continue scaring people into doing what he wanted. Nowadays, appearing to be nice and considerate is obviously a far more effective strategy.’

I stared with a mixture of fascination and fear at the young Maria Irene Schelderup and asked what her thoughts were on the future of the company. Her reply was unexpectedly quick.

‘That all depends on what we are now waiting for with baited breath: in other words, my father’s will. We came to these suppers for the most part because he was Magdalon Schelderup, but also because we were waiting for him to tell us at some point about his will. But that never happened. Either he was still in doubt, or he just wanted to keep us on tenterhooks.’

She hesitated briefly, but then continued with youthful zeal.

‘And as regards the inheritance, perhaps my father died a few years too early. The only one of his children who is capable of taking over – in other words, me – is still too young, in practical and legal terms, to head a consolidated company of that size. The alternative is to divide up the business, and that would not be profitable at this point. The company is on the offensive, and appears to be in the middle of several transaction processes that make the situation unclear for the next year. My father also liked to keep secrets from those closest to him. It was part of his strategy for holding the reins and keeping everyone around him on their toes. So none of us know what it says in the will. I know that my mother has pressured him to leave a company that was as consolidated as possible to me, but I have no idea whether she succeeded or not. It was not easy to persuade my father to do anything – not even for my mother. I presume that you will shortly be told the content of the will and I would be very grateful if you could telephone as soon as the mystery has been clarified.’