The Hanging: A Thriller (3 page)

He stopped and appeared to reflect on something.

Simonsen said, “The name is not particularly important. But tell me, those two children. Aren’t they a little on the early side? I thought instruction began at eight o’clock.”

“That’s correct, and I wondered about that too, so I asked the headmaster. It turns out that the school has a handful of children that meet up long before lessons begin. All schools are familiar with the problem. For some parents it is simply a matter of wanting to save money on morning care, for others it is a pressure they face each day—”

“Okay, Okay, go on,” Simonsen interrupted.

“Yes, of course … now where was I?… right. The officer on duty instructed the girl to wait until a teacher arrived, and she then contacted her mother’s workplace in Gentofte. The mother could not be located immediately, but the owner—a Danish resident of Lebanese origins who is somewhat familiar with the girl—decided to drive out to her. He arrived at the school a little before seven
A.M.
At the gymnasium he chased off eight children who had gathered there. He also called the Gladsaxe police again and at seven thirty-eight
A.M.
a patrol unit arrived—”

“At seven thirty-eight!” Simonsen interrupted sharply.

Pedersen avoided his gaze and adjusted his tie, a movement that his boss was all too familiar with.

“Cough up that name and tell me what happened.”

Additional delays were futile, and the name of the officer on duty was produced. Also the explanation.

“He said that the calls could be deprioritized … since it was clear that they were from ‘Mujafa types.’ Yes, unfortunately that is a direct quote.”

Simonsen was genuinely incensed.

“Why are you protecting a thug like that? Do you know him?”

Pedersen had been blessed with a youthful appearance. Despite his forty years he resembled an overgrown youth, and now he blushed from ear to ear so that his complexion matched his fiery red hair.

“We were at the police academy together. He and I are in a betting pool together.”

Simonsen frowned and closed his eyes, but decided not to ask further questions. Pedersen was a good investigator—creative as well as effective—and it was a distinct possibility that he would eventually become the next division chief. But his passion for gambling was well known and there was more than one story circulating about him. One day they would have to have a talk, but not now, and if Pedersen owed the thug some money, he did not want to know it.

“We’ll drop it. Go on.”

“The patrol officers called for backup, the school was sealed off, and the children were sent home. The staff were assembled in the teachers’ lounge and we were contacted of course. I arrived around nine
A.M.
and sent for you, whereupon I informed the police chief as well as rounding up Troulsen, Pauline, and the Countess. Then I got the whole thing under way and called in anything that can crawl: investigators, technicians, forensic specialists, canine units—yes, even Elvang is here.”

“Why the dogs? What are we looking for?”

“Ten hands, among other things.”

“Bloody hell.”

“Exactly.”

“Have you been inside the gymnasium?”

“No, just the doorway. On two different occasions. The first time I felt sick, as I told you. They’re running around in space suits and it looks like a science fiction film, and as soon as I as much as breathed in there I got long lectures about contamination of crime scenes. You can guess who from. It’s completely hysterical.”

“The head of our Criminal Forensics Division is paid to get hysterical like that. What about Elvang?”

“Yes, what about Elvang? Obviously he had to wait. And in addition…” He searched for the words.

“In addition?”

“He called me a slave to fashion, but that’s not particularly relevant.”

“No, apart from the fact that he evidently still has some spirit in him.”

“You can laugh all you want, it’ll be your turn in a minute. He is waiting for you, once we’re done. The room is probably ready by now. But while we’re on the topic, I know with certainty why he isn’t retired yet. My brother’s new girlfriend works at the Ministry of Education, which oversees the National Health Service. That should count for something, it’s not just idle talk. Do you want to know why?”

Simonsen wondered silently if his subordinate had a surplus of anything but rigorous facts, but he answered with a smile, “I’d love to, when we have the time. How are our resources?”

“It’s not quite clear yet, but looks promising. We’re about to be reorganized into a special unit. They’re making the organizational changes.”

“That sounds ominous. Who are
they
?”

“I don’t know. I tell you, Simon, the first hour was like a zoo—I’ve never experienced anything like it. The minister of justice called twice and asked to be briefed minute by minute.”

“The minister of justice? Why on earth doesn’t he keep to the proper channels?”

“No idea. I didn’t ask him that.”

“‘Minute by minute,’ did he really say that?”

“Yes, he did actually. Verbatim.”

“Astounding.”

“You can say that again.”

“On top of that, the national police chief called a couple of times. To underscore the fact that the minister of justice was to be briefed. And the second time he threatened to come in person, but the Countess talked him out of it. Then there was the police director, but that is natural enough. The county commissioner has the mayor of Gladsaxe on his back, so he called in frequently too. Moreover, the attorney general got on the line, distinctly out of sorts.”

“The attorney general? How in the world did he get in the picture?”

“Well, that was what he was asking me about. He didn’t want anything to do with the investigation, I believe he said. He is not completely easy to understand and I could never figure out who it was who involved him in the first place. And the Countess has had her hands full. Both with the chairman and vice chairperson of the parliamentary judiciary committee. Among others.”

“For heaven’s sake, what a mess.”

“You can say that again, and there’s more. Finally I received a call from the head at the Department of State, Helmer Hammer—yes, that is his name—and that was immediately after the minister of justice’s second round, so I was impatient with all the interruptions at this point. I was also a bit shaken, which I can see now in hindsight. Well, I told him in fairly direct terms that unless we had some peace to do our work, there would be absolutely nothing to report on, regardless of whether the queen herself called. Then I hung up or whatever it is you do with a cell phone.”

“Hm, was that wise? What happened after that?”

“He called back.”

“Smart move. Are you going to be directing traffic now?”

“No, he’s reasonable when it comes down to it. He doesn’t know anything about police work, which is something thankfully he volunteered himself, but he promised to stop with the interruptions and he’s kept his word. There have been no VIP calls since.”

Pedersen looked relieved. Simonsen tried to get the conversation back on track without sounding too impatient.

“That all sounds quite positive, but does not actually explain the state of our resources.”

“Yes it does, because he also said that you should take the lead on the investigation.”

“I’m already doing that.”

“Yes, I know. Let me explain. That is, you should lead the investigation and exclusively report back to him. No one else.”

“The usual lines of communication are being silenced?”

“In a manner of speaking, but it gets better. You can proceed freely, and you have no resource constraints whether in regard to man-hours or financials. He will take care of any administrative hurdles so that your time can be completely devoted to investigating.”

“That is quite something.”

“Yes, he is not without power. However, he did make a point of saying that your official mandate has not yet been drawn up, but that is just a matter of paperwork. You should get in touch with him when you have a moment. I have his number. So the sum of all this, Simon, is that you are basically your own boss.”

“Did he say that too?”

“No, that is my own conclusion.”

“Hm, it doesn’t really matter to me that the usual protocol is put aside.”

“It’s better than having all kinds of highly elevated men and women throw us around according to their whims.”

“Maybe, but we’ll have to see about that. Right now we have other things to think about.”

Suddenly the bell went off, high-pitched and piercing. No one had thought about shutting it off since the children had been sent home. It caused Simonsen to jump, and his chair groaned. For a split second he lay outstretched on his desk. Pedersen, whose relationship to school bells was less troubled, waited quietly until the noise ceased, after which he completed his report.

“The current division of labor is that Pauline is trawling the neighbors and the outdoor areas of the school, the Countess is responsible for the interior of the school, Troulsen is debriefing the school staff, and I am free now that you’re here. Our most pressing problem is that the dead are as yet unidentified, and that the janitor is missing. Per Clausen is his name and he was likely the one who unlocked the school this morning, but no one has seen him. It is possible that he’s indisposed due to excessive alcohol consumption—apparently that happens from time to time. As for the task of identifying the victims, I have a dozen experienced people occupied with the task of finding out if the five men have been reported missing anywhere. There are not yet any results.”

Simonsen reflected on this, then stood up, and Pedersen followed suit.

“We’ll meet in half an hour, make sure the others get the message. You can come get me in the gymnasium, but I want to get Elvang alone first. Tell Troulsen that not so much as a flea leaves this place without my permission, and get Pauline inside before she starts to look like a drowned animal. I don’t even know what the hell she’s doing out there—helping the dogs?”

“For Pete’s sake, she doesn’t have much experience yet.”

“And she won’t get it simply by getting wet. Or get her some proper rain gear. The school patrol probably has one hanging on a hook somewhere. And one more thing. There have been ten schoolchildren in the gymnasium. Has a crisis counselor been called in? What about the parents—have they been informed?”

“Oh, no.”

Pedersen banged his fist against the doorframe. He had two children of his own.

“Take care of it, but first lead me to Elvang and tell your story about him on the way. You’ve done a fine job, Arne. Very satisfactory.”

The praise sounded hollow. As if learned in a management seminar.

CHAPTER 4

The graveyard was deserted and the lone man with the umbrella moved slowly, almost humbly, past the gravestones that seemed to sense that he did not fit in. Every step he took made a crunching sound in the pea gravel and sounded wrong in the wet silence of the place. At an unadorned grave at the edge of the cemetery he stopped and placed a folding chair on the ground. Before he sat down, he gently placed a bouquet on the grave. The rain freshened the flowers like a last caress from nature and caused the man, whose name was Erik Mørk, to smile.

“I brought flowers with me today, Dad, because today was quite a special day. One that I have been waiting for a long time. Perhaps ever since I was a child, even if that doesn’t make any sense. According to the radio, those who were executed have been found and the rest of the day will doubtless be quite chaotic.”

He stopped and looked down at the earth, and some minutes went by before he went on. Then he smiled, and the smile came from his heart, which did not happen very often. He loved sitting there in the quiet stillness far from the world, and he allowed the minutes to tick by as he chatted about this and that at his father’s graveside. His work was extroverted, though he was the opposite by nature. Perhaps it was the secret of his professional success. A success toward which he was indifferent, and one he would have traded for anything if only he could have had his childhood back.

“I have been completely on edge since I got a letter from the Climber last Saturday with videos of the minivan and the gymnasium, so I knew it had been done, but…”

The sentence was never completed, and he jumped straight into another topic altogether.

“This morning I was at the office, where we had an evaluation with a client. The campaign is going very well and everyone is patting everyone’s back. They’re selling a lot of worthless girls’ clothes, we can add a new success story to the others, and both parties make a bucketful of money. Not a soul mentioned the eight little girls who at this moment are offering themselves like candy on billboards all over the city. For the love of Christ, they’ve hardly gone through puberty and … yes, I know it seems hysterical, because I if anyone am responsible for this, but I couldn’t deal with it very well and had to take the rest of the day off.”

The rain was tapering off. He folded his umbrella, shook it, and laid it to the side of his chair before he resumed his monologue.

“It is obviously one of the advantages of owning one’s business that one can come and go as one pleases, and today I left, without really knowing why. We have conducted so many similar campaigns, and this one is far from the worst, so perhaps it’s because I am particularly sensitive right now.”

The clock in the church tower rang the hour. He stood up, stretched his legs, and crouched by the gravestone, where he had noticed a couple of wet leaves clinging to its face. Then he let his finger slide across the etching, back and forth a couple of times. Arne Christian Mørk. 1934–1979. As he meticulously plucked a few weeds that the gardener had overlooked, he continued to speak.

“Yesterday I took a fond farewell of Per, you know Per Clausen, the janitor I was telling you about. He is a fantastic man, and I will miss him. First we ate breakfast, and after that we watched the video sequences I directed. He was full of praise, but I have to admit they did turn out very well. In particular there is one simple one from the minivan that is quite captivating, a satanic little pearl, that will shake public opinion and toughen our national soul. It may become absolutely decisive, you just wait and see. It was Per’s idea to mount hidden cameras above each seat, which was devilishly difficult, but turned out to be worth every bit of trouble. Other than that, we talked about everything between heaven and earth, not just about the coming weeks, almost as if he was on a normal Sunday visit. It is hard to imagine that I’ll never see him again.”