Smoke Screen

by Jorn Lier Horst

  ‘Maybe she was nervous?’ Wibe suggested.

  Blix pushed the chair back under the table. He had expected to hear that both women had been in the taxi into the city centre.

  ‘So did Nina Ballangrud stay at Ruth-Kristine’s flat then, or…?’ Abelvik asked, trailing off.

  No one had an answer.

  ‘Right, well,’ Blix started. ‘We know what happened to Ruth-Kristine. Let’s try to find Nina.’

  The four investigators went their separate ways. Blix went to grab a cup of coffee before sitting back down behind his computer screen. Kovic had pulled out the bin bag they had taken from Haugseth, and was in the process of looking through the contents left over from Ruth-Kristine’s trip to Denmark.

  ‘Anything interesting?’ Blix asked.

  Kovic shook her head. ‘Just rubbish. No receipts or paperwork that could tell us anything about where exactly she had been in Denmark, or what she was doing there.’

  Blix turned his attention to the screen. He had already created a new folder titled Sophus Ahlander. It only contained the most basic information thus far. Ahlander was forty-six years old, had no permanent employment, no children or registered cohabitants. Both parents were dead – the father died fifteen years ago, and the mother last summer. Ahlander had inherited the flat and reported the move. He had also inherited a car and a cabin in Undrumsåsen, in Vestfold county. He had sold the car and had bought a Toyota RAV4 instead.

  His criminal record included a few drug misdemeanours, three convictions for car theft, a few burglaries and one case of fraud that had been dropped. What Blix was really looking for was anything that might indicate Ahlander’s involvement in Patricia’s disappearance. He had no concrete hypothesis about it – it was more an intuition. Right before Knut Ivar Skage had been murdered by Patricia’s father, he had admitted to his part in the kidnapping. He had suggested that Ruth-Kristine was behind it. Blix had been looking for a person who had been in both of their social circles. Ahlander’s name hadn’t turned up at the time, but he could be the common denominator. To move forward with the case, he would have to find something solid that showed that Ruth-Kristine Smeplass, Knut Ivar Skage and Sophus Ahlander knew each other ten years ago, at the time Patricia disappeared.

  Kovic stuffed the rubbish back into the bin bag and tied it up.

  ‘I’m going to see if there’s any food left in the cafeteria,’ she said. ‘Want anything?’

  Blix shook his head and used two fingers to type Ahlander’s name and birth details into the intelligence database, which contained all sorts of information that they had gathered, such as statements given by informants, surplus details from other investigations, material from the surveillance of known criminals and general tip-offs that had been sent in. A few results came up regarding a car-theft case, implying that Ahlander had been involved to a much greater extent than had been acknowledged at the trial. His name also popped up in a few other drug cases, but only with a peripheral role.

  One entry attracted Blix’s attention. It was a tip-off that had come in a little over eight years earlier – a phone call that had been made soon after the broadcast of an episode of Wanted, a TV programme about unsolved criminal cases. One feature had been dedicated to the murder of a man in Alna three years before. A pedestrian had been run over and killed, and the driver had sped away. The accident had occurred on a poorly lit stretch of road, late at night. The body hadn’t been found until the next morning.

  Paint residue on the victim’s body and shattered glass found at the scene suggested that the car involved was a burgundy Ford Focus. A witness had seen a similar car travelling at high speed in a nearby street that night. It was missing a headlight and had two people inside.

  Neither the car nor the driver had been found.

  In the programme, the widow of the murdered man had begged for answers from anyone who knew anything about what had happened. An anonymous tip-off had named Sophus Ahlander as the driver, and had revealed that he had been driving a stolen car around that time.

  Blix read the entry again. The phone number of whoever had given the tip-off hadn’t been included. Probably a private number. There was no information about whether the caller was male or female either, but the fact that Ahlander had been convicted of car theft several times gave the tip-off some substance.

  Blix waited as the computer struggled to load the case files. They showed that the case was still unresolved and had been given the closure code 014: insufficient information regarding the perpetrator.

  Blix scrolled through the list of documents and saw that Ahlander had been called in for questioning after the programme had aired. There was a short statement. He had denied the anonymous accusation. And as it had been such a long time since the incident, it was impossible for him to account for where he had been and what he had done that night.

  Towards the end of the interview, he was encouraged to offer any reasons why someone would accuse him of the crime. He had no answer for that either, but didn’t try to hide the fact that he had previously been found guilty of stealing cars. He also believed that the car he owned at the time was the same model as the one they were looking for, which he thought might have led to the accusation. His car, however, had been blue. He gave them the licence-plate number, and an investigation had followed to try and find the current owner of the car, to ascertain that it was originally blue and hadn’t just been repainted.

  Blix printed out a transcript of the interview and read it again.

  Something about it made him uneasy, but he couldn’t quite put his finger on what or why. In an attempt to find out more, he entered the licence-plate number Ahlander had given. It was, as he had said, a blue Ford Focus from 2006. The current owner was a man with an Arabic-sounding name who lived in Lillestrøm.

  He typed a few commands in and loaded the list of previous owners. The car had changed ownership a number of times. It had also been registered with an insurance company at one point, indicating that it had been involved in a serious collision.

  Sophus Ahlander had owned the car between 2007 and 2009. Blix straightened up when he read the name of the previous owner. Ahlander had bought the car from the Autokvick car repair shop in Kalbakken. That didn’t necessarily have to mean anything in itself, but Blix recognised the name: it was Knut Ivar Skage’s garage.

  This was exactly what he was looking for.

  A missing link between the man who had already admitted to being involved in Patricia’s kidnapping, and Ruth-Kristine Smeplass. It was only a small connection, but it was enough for him to start an internal inquiry into Sophus Ahlander. He included a note requesting that he be notified immediately once Ahlander had been found.

  26

  The article dedicated to Ruth-Kristine was long, and it had taken Emma more time than usual to write it, what with the sheer amount of facts she had had to find and include.

  The piece recounted the story of a woman who had not had an easy life, largely due to her mental-health struggles. Most of it had been covered in the newspapers years ago, so Emma didn’t feel guilty for bringing it back to the surface, but she made sure to write it all in a way that would generate sympathy for Patricia’s mother.

  She also included some lines about what she had gone through herself on New Year’s Eve, before she had found Kasper, that is. The panic that had spread across the square after the explosion. The chaos, the smells, the sounds. The cold gusts of wind coming off the fjord. She also recycled some of the details she had included in the article she had originally written about Blix rescuing Ruth-Kristine.

  Emma was pleased with her work. It was a good story, as good as unhappy stories could be, anyway. And she had come up with an idea for another article while working on it. A parallel article based on what had happened to Patricia’s father. How he had ended up in prison after murdering the man who just might have had the answer to what had happened to his daughter. She just had to get hold of him first.

  After sending the ar
ticle to Anita, Emma sat and let her mind wander. As soon as she stopped doing anything, her thoughts returned to Kasper.

  She had packed up his things and put them in the guest room. But it still felt like he was there.

  Before he died, she had wondered if she would miss him when he returned to Denmark. If their relationship might have been heading into a sort of indifferent phase. Now that she missed him more than her heart could bear, she wondered if she only felt that way because she would never see him again, or if she might, in fact, have loved him.

  Emma closed her eyes for a few seconds and shook her head. She couldn’t, and wouldn’t, think about that, or him. Think about work instead, she told herself. Do something. Don’t sit still.

  She called Blix, who surprised her by answering on the first ring.

  ‘Any news?’ she began.

  ‘About what?’ Blix asked.

  ‘The bombings.’

  ‘Not as far as I know,’ he replied. ‘But that’s PST’s responsibility. You’ll need to contact them, or ask Gard Fosse.’

  ‘Wollan can do that,’ Emma commented. ‘I’m not working on that case anyway, not directly.’

  ‘What are you working on then?’

  ‘I’m looking into Ruth-Kristine Smeplass. Any news about her?’

  Blix sighed. ‘I spoke to the hospital earlier this afternoon; they said that they’d let me know if there’s any change in her condition.’

  ‘Have you found out any more about what she was doing by the harbour that night?’

  ‘No,’ Blix answered. ‘We’re trying to contact the people she had been in touch with in the few days beforehand, but that hasn’t resulted in anything so far.’

  Sophus Ahlander, Emma thought to herself. She wrote his name in capital letters on the notepad in front of her, but didn’t mention anything to Blix.

  ‘I want to talk to her ex,’ she said instead. ‘Patricia’s father.’

  ‘Why?’

  Emma told him about the article she had written, and how she wanted to write another about Christer Storm Isaksen.

  ‘Do you know what prison he’s in?’

  Blix hesitated, as if he were thinking about whether that was information he could share with her.

  ‘Oslo Prison,’ he replied after a minute.

  Emma picked her pen up again. ‘Has it been long since you last spoke to him?’

  Again, it took some time before he answered. ‘I spoke to him yesterday. Briefed him on what happened to Ruth-Kristine.’

  ‘What did he say?’

  ‘I can’t give you that information, Emma.’

  Emma chewed on the end of the pen. ‘Can you give me a hand getting in to see him?’

  ‘That’s not something that I or the police can help you with,’ Blix replied. ‘You’ll have to take it up with Correctional Services.’

  His answer irritated her. He sounded reluctant. He must be able to arrange a meeting if he wanted to.

  She let it go and changed the subject. ‘A name has cropped up,’ she began.

  ‘Right?’

  ‘Sophus Ahlander,’ she read from her notepad. ‘Who’s that?’

  She heard Blix gasp.

  ‘Where did you get that name from?’

  ‘I can’t say,’ she replied.

  ‘Come on,’ Blix said. ‘I’ve just helped you out. This could be important.’

  ‘How important?’ Emma asked. ‘Important for the Patricia case?’

  ‘Among other things,’ Blix answered. ‘He’s a person of interest in the case. Where have you found that name?’

  Emma searched for an excuse. She couldn’t think of anything.

  ‘How interesting?’ she asked instead. ‘Does he have something to do with the kidnapping?’

  ‘It’s too early to say.’

  ‘Was he not looked into at the time?’

  ‘Emma,’ Blix said sternly. ‘What do you know about Sophus Ahlander?’

  ‘Nothing,’ she admitted.

  ‘You said his name had cropped up?’

  Emma bit her bottom lip. Blix deserved an answer. An honest answer.

  ‘I followed you,’ she said.

  ‘What do you mean?’

  ‘Earlier today, when you didn’t have time to talk. I was parked outside HQ and saw you and Kovic leaving. I followed you, to Ahlander’s flat.’

  ‘Followed us … why?’

  ‘On an impulse. It looked like you were doing something important. I just wanted to see what that might be.’

  ‘Emma…’ Blix’s voice sounded accusatory.

  ‘Sorry,’ Emma said hastily. ‘I was borrowing the company car—’

  Blix interrupted her. ‘I’m getting another call,’ he said. ‘I have to take it.’

  ‘Sure. Talk later.’

  Emma put the phone down, stretched, and realised how hungry she was.

  27

  ‘Hi,’ Iselin said. ‘It’s me. What are we doing about dinner tonight?’

  Blix transferred the phone to his other ear. He had completely forgotten.

  ‘I’ve booked us a table for eight o’clock tonight at Benjamin,’ he lied.

  ‘Do you mean Le Benjamin?’ There was a teasing tone in her voice.

  ‘Yes.’

  Le Benjamin was a French bistro at the southern end of the Grünerløkka district. They had eaten there together once before. She had sorted everything that time. He just hoped that they would have a free table on a weekday so soon after the holidays.

  ‘I’ll see you in half an hour,’ Iselin said, and hung up.

  Blix pushed himself away from the desk and pulled on his jacket. As he made his way out, he searched for the number, called the restaurant and asked them to hold a table for two.

  His daughter turned up at eight o’clock on the dot, wearing the dark-blue puffer jacket he had bought for her the Christmas before last. She had a bag draped over her shoulder.

  She greeted him with a wide smile and a warm hug. Blix held her close for a few extra seconds, before giving her a quick kiss on the cheek and asking her how she was.

  The bag slipped off her shoulder. ‘I’m doing okay,’ she said, heaving it back on again. ‘How are you?’

  ‘Yeah all’s well with me,’ he answered.

  ‘Good to hear,’ she smiled. ‘Shall we go in? I’m starving.’

  Blix opened the door for his daughter and followed her inside, into the aroma of garlic and sautéed mushrooms. Iselin had taken charge and was already asking about their reservation. Blix noticed that several people turned and stared as she walked by, probably recognising her from the reality TV programme she had participated in the previous autumn.

  ‘Can I get you a drink to start?’ the waiter asked once they had sat down.

  Iselin looked at her father and answered: ‘He’s probably heading back to work after this,’ she said, nodding at Blix. ‘But I’ll have a glass of red wine.’

  ‘Just water for me, thanks.’

  The waiter disappeared. Blix looked at Iselin and smiled. Shook his head.

  ‘What’s up?’ she asked.

  ‘Nothing, I just can’t get used to the fact that you drink wine now,’ he replied. ‘I swear it was just a few weeks ago that you refused to drink anything other than milk.’

  Iselin sent him a smile as if to say how embarrassing.

  ‘I’m not twelve anymore, Dad.’

  ‘True, but I’m still your dad.’

  She grinned. The waiter returned and they ordered. Mussels au gratin in a tomato and onion sauce for Blix, an autumn salad with veal sweetbreads, chicken liver and blackcurrants for Iselin.

  Blix put the menu down. They spoke for a while, just small talk, before Blix leaned across the table slightly. Iselin had said that she wanted to talk to him about something.

  ‘You said you were doing okay,’ he said. ‘Not that everything was okay.’

  ‘Is there a difference?’

  Blix straightened his napkin. ‘The former could mean that everythi
ng might not be okay, but that you’re dealing with it,’ he explained.

  ‘I forget that you’re a policeman,’ Iselin commented, taking a sip from her glass.

  ‘What is it?’ Blix asked. ‘Is something bothering you?’

  Iselin sat still for a while, holding the glass in her hand. ‘I need somewhere to live,’ she said.

  Blix raised his eyebrows.

  ‘Mum and I had planned to stay at Jan-Egil’s house while he goes to Singapore for work … but she’s decided to go with him now. I can’t take care of that massive house by myself. And anyway, I think they might want to rent it out.’

  Blix thought of all the hours Iselin had spent in therapy, of everything she had been through after being on Worthy Winner. How fragile and scared she had been, how long she had spent like that. He wasn’t sure if she had managed to put it behind her yet. And now Merete was going to leave her daughter, all by herself, just like that?

  Blix felt a wave of anger crash over him.

  ‘They’re not leaving for a few weeks yet anyway, not until after my birthday.’

  ‘That’s not that long,’ Blix said.

  ‘No.’

  She looked as if she were thinking about it. The food arrived.

  ‘Mum hasn’t called you, has she?’ she asked.

  Blix shook his head. He picked up the spoon, but sat there with it in his hand without starting.

  ‘Have you argued?’ he asked, looking down at her bag.

  Iselin didn’t answer immediately.

  ‘I thought about renting a studio flat,’ she said at last. ‘I’ve saved up a bit now so should be able to afford it.’

  In the wake of the reality show’s explosive finale, the TV company had decided that Toralf and Iselin, the two finalists, should share the grand prize of one million kroner, even if that wasn’t technically allowed in the rules.

  ‘Or I could come and stay with you?’ she added.

  ‘With me?’

  ‘At least until I can find my own place.’

  Blix tore off a chunk of bread and dipped it in the bowl, thinking about his tiny flat in Tøyen. Quite the contrast to the house that Merete, Jan-Egil and Iselin had been living in in Holmenkollen for the last three years. Much more of a contrast than he’d care to think about.