The lock had been smashed to pieces. Gunnarstranda examined the remains. Ran his fingers over the metal. Heard Frølich come from behind. The sweet smell of vomit filled his nostrils. ‘The guy must have used a crowbar,’ Frølich opined. They advanced further through the dark arched gateway. The front door didn’t seem to be damaged at all. Curious, thought Gunnarstranda. And stopped. ‘It might have been open,’ the man behind him suggested. ‘The guy broke open the gate, but the front door could have been unlocked.’ ‘Hm.’ Gunnarstranda swivelled and retraced his steps, into the gateway. Opened the gate wide until it hit the wall. ‘Hm,’ he repeated, groping along the wall with his fingers. Felt a scar in the wall. Frølich reacted. Strode back to the car and returned with a torch. Shone it on the wall where you could see the plaster had been damaged. Pulled the gate wide open again. The lock hit the scar in the wall. ‘That does not come from prolonged wear and tear,’ Frølich stated.
