Medusa (33 page)

It was light outside by the time he was taken back down to the holding cell in the basement. He had been lying in the bottom of a boat being sailed by others. Now it had capsized, and this murky green prison cell was the beach on which he had been washed ashore. He felt as though he had lost everything.

N
INA
J
EBSEN WAS
the first to arrive at the meeting. After two and a half hours’ sleep on a sofa in one of the offices, she had managed to shower and put on her make-up, but she had no clean clothes to change into. She popped the day’s first Nicorette into her mouth. It tasted like the rubbers she used to chew into little pieces when she was at primary school. Fortunately the coffee was freshly brewed and she had an unopened pack of chewing tobacco in her jacket pocket. She’d make it through to lunch without eating.

Sigge Helgarsson arrived and sat down beside her.

– Our oldest girl was up all night being sick, he said by way of apology. – And Vala was on duty at the nursing home. Did I miss anything?

Nina moved her chair away from the potential source of infection.

– Don’t think anyone noticed you weren’t here. It’s been non-stop since yesterday afternoon.

Sigge gave a sigh of relief.

– I know someone tried to call me, but I had to turn off the phone to grab a few hours’ sleep early this morning. It was hell at home. Hope it wasn’t His Majesty’s Viken, the Voice himself.

Nina couldn’t stand any more of the chewing gum and wrapped it neatly in a serviette, which she tossed on to the table.

– Viken’s got other things to think about apart from you and your sick kids. Just be sure you don’t stick your pretty neck out too far today. If you don’t want your head chopped off.

– Bad as that, was it?

Nina yawned.

– We’ve been talking to Glenne for over twelve hours.

– Anything that nails him to the murders?

– Nails him? Not even a piece of Sellotape. Oh shit!

She sat up abruptly.

– The maternity ward, she muttered.

– Forgotten something? Are you pregnant?

At that moment Norbakk entered with Jarle Frøen, followed by the lad from Majorstua and a couple of the other newcomers. Nina was on her way out of the door when she bumped into Viken.

– We’re starting now, he said gruffly. – You can go to the toilet in the break.

Viken looked as though he hadn’t had a moment’s sleep. He was unshaven and his eyes were even more red rimmed than usual. But, as ever, he was wearing a freshly ironed white shirt. It occurred to Nina that he must have a cupboard full of them in his office.

– We’ll deal with the interrogations first, he began. – A number of interesting pieces of information have emerged. We can confirm that Glenne has no proper alibis for any of the times we’re interested in. He’s vague about a number of things and his answers are shifty. That confirms the impression we have generally of an evasive personality.

He stopped briefly. Jarle Frøen interjected rapidly.

– I’ve read the report, Viken. There isn’t much there that is going to impress a court.

– Yes, but we’re not finished with him yet, barked Viken, and the prosecutor decided not to pursue it.

– Admittedly the opening round has not given us the results we had been hoping for, the detective chief inspector continued, his voice a little calmer.

He addressed himself to Norbakk.

– You’ve talked to the people at the lab?

– Just before I came here, yes, Norbakk nodded. – They’ve been through Glenne’s villa on Nesodden with a fine-tooth comb, as well as the clinic and offices in Bogstadveien, and both cars. We’ve also got people looking at the summer place in Larkollen.

– The child-trailer?

– That too, of course. And they’re working on the hard disks of both his computers.

– And?

– There’s a huge amount of material to go through …

– But so far?

Norbakk rubbed his neck.

– First impression: not much. Not counting the pair of handcuffs found in a cupboard in the bedroom.

He gave Viken a little smile as he said this, but the chief inspector turned abruptly to Nina. She knew what was coming and steeled herself for it.

– What about this twin that no one else knows anything about, not even the wife he’s been married to for twenty-three years?

She looked out through the window.

– I did make another attempt to find out about it, she began.

– Attempt?

– The site is still down. Partly, that is.

– Down? Impossible.

– It’s very rare, but …

– Don’t tell me, Jebsen, Viken interrupted, – that you’ve been sitting around twiddling your thumbs while some dolt of a computer engineer is down there scratching his head?

Fortunately that was not the case.

– I’ve been in touch with the maternity ward at the Rikshospital. The section head there is the only one who can give permission for access to information in patients’ notes. I was supposed to call back …

– I don’t believe it! thundered Viken. – You mean all you did was telephone?

He looked at her, his eyes narrowed. Nina felt herself shrinking in her seat. Maybe I’ll end up the size of a pepperpot, she thought suddenly, and laughed nervously at the strange thought.

– I have had rather a lot to do, she managed.

– Yes, but for Christ’s sake, you might have taken the trouble to actually go along there. Do I need to remind you that we are dealing with a perverted and deranged person who has
so far
taken the lives of three women? If we’re going to stop him, everyone needs to pull their finger out and do exactly what they’ve been asked to do. And I mean
everyone.

His mobile phone rang; he glanced down at the display.

– It’s the pathology lab, he said. – We’ll take a ten-minute break.

He disappeared out into the corridor.

– Whooph, Sigge gasped. – Glad that wasn’t me.

– He’s under a lot of pressure, said Nina.

Sigge rolled his eyes.

– As if he’s the only one who’s noticed things are hotting up.

Nina didn’t answer. She picked up her phone and withdrew to a corner of the room. A minute later she had the section head at the Rikshospital on the line. She told him what it was about, stressed how vital the information was to the investigation, that it was a matter of urgency. He promised to look into it.

When the meeting resumed, she noticed that Viken had used the break to calm himself down.

– Sorry about the interruption, he began, and for a moment Nina wondered whether he was going to apologise for the outburst against her. He didn’t. – The call was from Dr Plåterud, he said. – She has really pulled out all the stops. She’s got Glenne’s DNA profile ready and waiting for us.

It was obvious to all what the results were.

– No match with the material found under Anita Elvestrand’s fingernails.

Jarle Frøen placed both fists on the table. They were so ugly Nina couldn’t help staring at them. Big and pale, with scattered tufts of red hair along the backs of the fingers, and as freckled as his face and his bald head.

– The court is in session at six this evening, he informed them. – I postponed it for as long as possible. The question now is should we abandon it and drop the charges?

Viken glowered at him. Nina could see him struggling to maintain the calm he had achieved during the break.

– The DNA result needn’t necessarily mean anything at all, he asserted. – There’s a great deal of material still to be analysed. Last night I spoke to a former colleague in Manchester. An expert in the field of psychological profiling. He thinks what we have is extremely interesting. He agrees that this business of the bear prints is some kind of message. Same thing with the method of killing, making it look as though the victims have been savaged by a bear. His advice is to listen to this message, find out what it is the killer is trying to tell us, and wind it in from there. I asked him about this theory of a split personality. He says it’s not unlikely that what we’re dealing with is a person with two or more personalities. Several factors actually point in this direction. Among other things, the very short interludes between each killing. As you know, my hypothesis is that this twin brother of Glenne’s doesn’t exist …

Nina’s phone rang.

– This looks like the hospital, she said and stood up. – They promised me a quick answer.

She grabbed her pen and notebook and let herself out into the corridor. A woman named Astrid Glenne
had
given birth at the Rikshospital. The senior consultant himself had personally gone to the trouble of searching the archives to track down the notes. Nina was too tense to thank him. She had to concentrate fully to stop her pen from shaking as she wrote down what he said.

The buzz of voices stilled as she appeared in the doorway. She could feel every gaze following her as she made her way back to her seat.

– That was the Rikshospital about the birth record.

She looked at Viken. He half closed his eyes.

– About bloody time, he murmured.

– The senior consultant called me in person; he’d made it his number one priority.

– Get to the point, Viken interrupted.

Nina swallowed her irritation.

– Astrid Glenne gave birth to two boys on the night of the seventh of September 1964. The first birth was unproblematic. The second child got stuck and had to be delivered with forceps. He wasn’t breathing, had to be resuscitated, and lay in an incubator for more than three weeks, but he survived. He suffered from convulsions of some kind …

– Yes yes yes, said Viken gruffly . – We don’t need to hear the whole of the midwife’s report.

Sigge Helgarsson couldn’t resist it: – So goodbye, Mr Hyde. That leaves us with just Dr Glenne.

Viken gave him an angry look.

– What matters is not whether or not this twin actually exists. You can say what you like about Icelanders, but they’re not the brightest tool in the shed.

Sigge gaped.

–
You’re
the one who needs to get it together, he burst out. – If you’d said that about someone with black skin, you’d get yourself a reputation as a racist.

Viken brushed this aside.

– Racist, did you say? Before the Americans were allowed to use the base at Keflavik, they had to bloody well sign an agreement saying that not one black soldier would be stationed there. You Icelanders were terrified they might get your women pregnant. At least that way you wouldn’t be as milky white as you are now.

Nina Jebsen looked at him in astonishment. Sigge flushed to the roots of his hair.

– Complete crap, he growled. – Fifty-year-old rumours.

Viken shrugged.

– Pal of mine worked up there for a long time, he knows all about it. But we don’t have time for this nonsense.

– You’re damned right there, Viken. Jarle Frøen grinned as he got to his feet. – I’ll have a word with the district court.

T
HERE WERE ONLY
two other customers at the Asylum Café. They took a window seat with a view over to the multi-storey car park and Grønland Square. When Nina had popped her head into Arve Norbakk’s office fifteen minutes earlier, it was clear that he had forgotten their arrangement to have coffee, and when she dropped a hint about it, he seemed to be so busy that she thought he would back out again. But as soon as he had picked up the hint, he was on his feet: that was a great idea, they needed to talk.

– Not a day of celebration for the team, he observed as they sat studying the menu. – All the more reason to treat ourselves to something nice to eat.

Nina agreed, but contented herself with a salad and bread on the side; it was too early for lunch.

– Sigge says he’s heard rumours that Finckenhagen wants to take Viken off the case, she said.

Arve Norbakk looked straight at her. He had the darkest brown eyes she had ever seen, at least in someone whose hair was so fair.

– Finckenhagen, he spluttered. – She wouldn’t dare. Even if Viken has made a fool of himself.

– He’s got tunnel vision about this, Nina announced. – The most elementary beginner’s mistake. These last few days he’s been interested in nothing but this doctor.

– Are you so sure it’s all been a waste of time?

She glanced at him.

– Sounds as if you still think Glenne is the one we’re looking for.

– I’m only saying it’s a good idea to keep an eye on him, said Arve.

– Should we really have been using such a huge amount of resources keeping a tail on him, as Viken insisted?

Arve answered without looking up from the menu.

– Maybe. The most obvious trails still begin and end there.

Once they’d ordered, Nina said: – One thing I’ve been thinking about. The ages of the three victims. Hilde Paulsen was fifty-six, Cecilie Davidsen forty-six, Anita Elvestrand thirty-six.

Arve raised an eyebrow.

– You’re right. Ten years younger every time.

– Probably just chance, she said, – but it does seem odd.

– If it isn’t just chance, and it happens again, then the next victim should be a woman of twenty-six.

– Don’t say that, she exclaimed as she finessed the plug of chewing tobacco out of her mouth and wrapped it in a serviette. She washed her mouth out with Pepsi Max. – I’m not sure we’re taking good enough care of this medical student.

Their food came. She’d ended up with spaghetti bolognese after all.

– Viken asked me to stay in touch with her, Arve reassured her. – I talked to her earlier today. She can call me whenever she likes. If she’s not interested, that’s all we can do, you know that as well as I do.

Nina wrapped spaghetti round her fork and realised that she’d made a mistake. Spaghetti was fine for kids, and a couple who’d known each other for a while. But first time out in a café with a man sitting opposite and watching you? Tacos were the only thing worse, she groaned to herself as she reached for a serviette. Fortunately Arve tactfully lowered his gaze to the rib steak on his own plate.