by Samuel Bjork
‘As you’re all aware, the events of the past week support the authenticity of this list. Our friends from the special unit in Mariboesgate know this better than anyone, and that’s obviously why they’re here, in case anyone in this room was wondering why Oslo police is represented.’
Quick glances towards them. Munch nodded back out of politeness.
‘Perhaps you could give us a brief overview for the benefit of everyone here who doesn’t know the details of these murders?’
Edvardsen looked briefly towards them.
‘Yes,’ Munch said, and coughed.
He considered getting up for a moment but stayed put; the general up at the screen seemed impatient enough as it was.
‘We have three victims. Vivian Berg. Aged twenty-two, a ballet dancer. Found in a mountain lake a few hours’ drive from Oslo.’
‘Along with a number, is that correct?’
‘That’s correct,’ Munch said. ‘The number four, scratched into a—’
‘As we can see,’ Edvardsen cut him off, ‘Vivian Berg is number four on the list.’
‘Er, yes,’ Munch said. ‘The second victim was Kurt Wang.’
‘Number seven on the list.’ Edvardsen nodded. ‘And the last one?’
‘Ruben Iversen, aged fourteen. Found in the boot of a car up by Camp Skar.’
‘With a number?’
‘Thirteen.’ Munch nodded.
‘Which also fits with the list Rønning was given.’ Edvardsen indicated the screen. ‘Have you found anything that links the victims?’
‘No,’ Anette Goli said. ‘And that’s been our biggest headache. The apparent randomness. That is, until we, well …’
She nodded at the piece of paper in front of her.
‘Fifty names,’ Edvardsen said firmly. ‘Random civilian Norwegians. Three of them have already been killed so there’s no reason to think that this threat is anything other than real, and we have orders from the Prime Minister’s office to respond accordingly.’
The general took a sip of water from a glass on the table before continuing.
‘According to Rønning, the killer was dressed partly in army clothes, he mentioned Lashkar Gah in Afghanistan, and the motive seems clear. This is most likely a revenge action. I’ll return to the reason for this shortly, but I’m pleased to be able to tell you that we have already identified the suspect.’
Edvardsen turned as another picture appeared on the screen.
A suspect?
So soon?
Munch turned to Goli, who raised her eyebrows. He had little time for the others who were present, but on this occasion he had to take his hat off to them. Rønning’s encounter with the killer had happened only hours ago.
‘May I remind you once again that we’re dealing with extremely sensitive information. I am not at liberty to divulge how we found our man, but I can tell you what we know about him. This is top secret at the highest level, not to be made available to any members of the public. Under no circumstances, I repeat, under no circumstances can what you’re about to hear leave this room.’
Edvardsen didn’t look at them directly, but there could be no doubt as to who he had in mind.
‘Do we have active forces in Afghanistan? Officially, no. Our men are merely taking part in humanitarian UN-supported operations. Unofficially? Of course we do. We don’t sit on the fence when our allies are at war. And again, what you’re about to hear will not leave this room. Do you understand?’
Edvardsen looked up now to make sure they understood that this was serious. Goli nodded back and eventually Munch did the same, albeit reluctantly.
‘Good,’ the general grunted as another picture appeared on the screen.
A young man in uniform, squinting slightly at the photographer. Armed to the teeth. A desert landscape in the background.
‘We think this is our man,’ Edvardsen said.
Another picture. The same soldier, an archive picture this time.
‘His name is Ivan Horowitz.’ Edvardsen looked at them again. ‘Born in 1988 in Gjøvik. Started his army career with the Telemark Battalion and was later recruited to Alfa. For those of you who don’t know Alfa, let me put it this way: they’re the best of the best. The Americans have their Green Berets, the Russians have Spetsnaz, and we have Alfa.’
The general was unable to hide the pride in his voice as he clicked and another picture appeared on the screen.
‘Afghanistan. Northern region. The Americans had undertaken a large-scale operation called Endurance, and we contributed a group of six soldiers, all Alfa. One of these was our man, Ivan Horowitz. I won’t go into detail – as I said earlier, this is NTK – but we have reason to believe that what happened next was the trigger for what we’re now dealing with. A revenge action, some kind of hatred of the Norwegian government, or whatever you want to call it; anyway, you’re about to see why we’re quite sure that we have our man.’
Edvardsen took another sip of water.
More desert. Scorched mountaintops.
‘Spring 2010. Alfa was engaged in something that should have been a routine job when they were ambushed. We lost five men. Ivan Horowitz was the only survivor. It’s still unclear exactly what happened but, according to Horowitz, he regained consciousness after the explosion, in which he sustained shrapnel injuries to his chest and abdomen and a broken leg. Horowitz spends the next ten days in a mountain cave. He drinks his own urine. He eats – well, we don’t know what he ate. In any case, he eventually manages to drag himself to a nearby road, where he’s picked up by a patrol.’
Edvardsen looked gravely across the gathering before continuing.
‘After being treated and debriefed in a field hospital, Horowitz is returned to Norway, his active army career now over. We give him a medal and try to help him with the transition to civilian life, we offer him a desk job, but Horowitz is no longer himself. He wants to go public: what happened out there wasn’t right, he lost his best friends, people need to know what’s going on. Yes, I’m sure you get the picture. In the end we had no choice but to let him go. We follow him closely so that we can help him, of course, but also to keep an eye on him.’
Edvardsen clicked again.
‘2011. Horowitz is admitted to Blakstad psychiatric hospital. He’s discharged in early 2012. And there the trail goes cold. He didn’t take any money out of his bank account. There’s no evidence of electronic activity. It’s as if Ivan Horowitz has ceased to exist. We presume that he has killed himself but that his body has yet to be found. We close the file. But now this.’
‘A new identity?’
A dry voice over a blue tie.
‘Most likely.’ Edvardsen nodded.
‘And his hatred is real?’
Another calm voice, this time with a grey tie.
‘I’m afraid so,’ Edvardsen said. ‘The reports from our own psychologists state that, shortly after his homecoming, Horowitz showed signs of what we call, well, negative behaviour that caused concern.’
‘The clock is ticking,’ an older man at the end of the table suddenly said, and nodded almost imperceptibly towards Munch and Goli.
‘Yes,’ Edvardsen confirmed. ‘Munch and Goli, is that right?’
Munch nodded.
‘We’ve initiated a major hunt for Ivan Horowitz, obviously, and now we want you to do the following.’
His voice changed; it was an order now. Munch didn’t like it, but he said nothing.
‘We’re going to tell the media about Horowitz. We’ll get you pictures and anything else you may need. He’s your prime suspect now, but you won’t mention his army background.’
‘Listen—’ Munch began, but he was cut off.
‘Good,’ said a mouth over another tie. ‘Surely someone must have seen him, even if he’s hiding? No one can be completely invisible. I mean, maybe he got a new job, friends, neighbours?’
‘Exactly,’ said Edvardsen. ‘What we’re hoping for is exactly that, that someone will recognize him.
If we’re lucky, they will do so soon, before Horowitz has time to – well, has time to pick another name from the list.’
‘Are we offering any of these people protection?’ asked a man with glasses, holding up the list.
‘We’ve talked about it, of course,’ Edvardsen said. ‘But as you can see, most of these names are quite common. Nils Olsen, Janne Andersen – how many potential victims are we talking about? We don’t have the capacity, unfortunately. It’s simply not feasible.’
The latter was spoken with something which for the first time sounded like humanity.
‘So,’ the general continued with a glance towards Munch and Goli, ‘Ivan Horowitz is now officially your suspect. That’s the best angle we can pursue now, without causing concern. A suspect in a triple homicide. That’s why we’re looking for him. We think this story will stand up. And, hopefully, it’ll be enough for us to find him. We have also allocated plenty of our own resources to the case, but I’ll get to that in a moment.’
‘But—’ Munch said, but was interrupted again.
‘I’m sorry. Goli, was it?’
Anette Goli nodded.
‘We’ll send you what you need. Apart from that, it’s business as usual, OK?’
‘Are you telling me not to brief my team about any of this?’ Munch said.
‘Only that Horowitz is a suspect.’
‘But how do I—?’
‘You’ll find a way,’ Edvardsen said. He was clearly keen to move on to the next point on his agenda.
The young man who had escorted them down had returned discreetly.
‘I’ll see you out.’ He smiled politely and nodded towards the big, open door.
Chapter 54
Mia was standing outside the cream-coloured brick building in Storgata, feeling apprehensive about going inside. She had been there before, but it was a long time ago now. The old days. In another life. Seeing the building brought back memories she would rather forget. The Prindsen Centre. A service for addicts run by Oslo city council. A bed for the night. Shooting galleries. Doctors offering health care. Psychologists. Nurses. Dentists. Money and support to go back home. That was why she had come here originally. To pick up Sigrid.
She was starting to feel really bad.
Her sister had been huddled in a corner, hugging herself, looking so very small.
Sorry, Mia.
Don’t worry about it, Sigrid. Of course I don’t mind you calling me.
I didn’t want to bother you.
You’re not bothering me, Sigrid. Of course I’ll help you. What happened?
Friendly but guarded faces. Going in and out of one chilly room after another. Papers to be signed.
I’m not feeling too good, Mia.
How about coming home? You could live with me.
Would that be all right, do you think?
Of course it would, Sigrid.
I won’t get in your way, I promise.
You’re never in the way, Sigrid.
New people. New forms. Her twin sister’s practically transparent body on the passenger seat in the car, wrapped in a blanket.
Mia was snapped out of her memories as a tram rattled by close behind her. She pulled herself together. She entered through the black, cast-iron gate and made her way to the reception.
‘Hello, how can I help you?’
A gentle but tired face behind the glass pane.
‘Mia Krüger. I’m meeting Mildrid Lind.’
‘OK. If you take a seat over there she’ll be right with you.’
‘Thank you.’
Mia had only just sat down when the door opened and a middle-aged social worker appeared.
‘Hello, Mia. It’s been a long time. Nice to see you again.’
‘Thank you. Likewise.’
‘Why don’t we go to my office? I think it’s best if we speak there.’
Mia followed her down the corridor and out across the gravel square. A small office with a desk and posters on the walls. Offers of help.
Mildrid Lind pushed her glasses up her nose and sat down.
‘The people who come here are a bit wary of the police, you know, but I have managed to talk to some of them. Your info was a little vague.’
‘I know,’ Mia said apologetically, ‘but it was all that I had. Cecilie. Cisse. A red puffa jacket. Aged around forty.’
‘I’ve been asking around the centre and I think I’ve found someone who can help you.’
‘Really?’ Mia was surprised. ‘She exists?’
‘What do you mean?’
‘Oh, it’s nothing, I just …’
‘Like I said, our clients don’t trust the police. For obvious reasons.’
‘This is a private matter,’ Mia interjected quickly. ‘I’m not here on police business. There’s no investigation. Nobody is accused of anything. I’m just trying to find her.’
‘I understand.’ Lind nodded. ‘And that was the impression I got when we spoke earlier. I’m not a big fan of the police myself, to be quite honest, but I know you.’
‘Thank you. I appreciate you saying that.’
Lind picked up her phone.
‘Hi, it’s Mildrid here. Is Synne around? Great. Please would you ask if she could join me in a moment? It’s about our earlier conversation? OK, thank you.’
They waited in silence in the small office until there was a knock on the door.
‘Hi, Synne. Do come in. Are you all right?’
‘Er, yeah,’ said a young woman, throwing a quick glance at Mia.
‘This is Mia Krüger,’ Lind said.
‘Oh, OK,’ the skinny woman said, but she continued to linger in the doorway, unsure of what to do with herself.
‘Why don’t you have a seat here?’ Mildred said, getting up. ‘I just have to do something. Do you mind? Will the two of you manage without me?’
‘It’s fine.’ Mia smiled. ‘Or it is with me. Is it all right with you?’
‘She’s not in trouble, is she?’ the young woman asked.
‘Who?’ Mia said.
‘Cisse?’
‘Oh, no. This has nothing to do with the police. She’s just, well, important to me. Does that make sense?’
Mildrid Lind smiled and disappeared out of the door.
‘I don’t know,’ the skinny woman said. ‘Why is she important to you?’
‘I believe she has something that belongs to me.’
The skinny woman sat down, still wondering whether she was being tricked into something.
‘What?’
‘This,’ Mia said, reaching out her arm. ‘Or rather, one very like it.’
Synne glanced at the silver bracelet and smiled faintly.
‘I had one of those once.’
‘Did you?’
‘Yes, or not exactly like it, but with three boats. Sailing boats. My brother gave it to me before he went to war.’
‘Your brother is a soldier?’
The skinny girl wrapped her scruffy wool jacket more tightly around herself and nodded cautiously. She twirled from side to side on the office chair. Looked nervously out of the window at the courtyard.
‘That’s a long time ago now.’
‘Which branch of the military is he in?’
‘I don’t know, he joined – now, what do you call it? – the foreign legion?’
Mia nodded.
‘He wanted to be a tough guy, I think, but we never heard from him again. My mum tried to get someone to help us, but it turns out there’s not a lot you can do if someone has joined up voluntarily, if you know what I mean. Have you ever been to Lofoten?’
‘I’m afraid not.’
‘The mountains back home dive straight from the sky and into the sea,’ the young woman said, and a hint of a smile emerged.
‘That sounds very beautiful.’
‘It is.’
‘So you know her? Cisse?’
‘Yes,’ she said at length. ‘But I think she’s gone.’
‘Gone. How?’
‘Dead. That’s what they say. But I don’t know. People talk a lot, don’t they? You never know who you can trust in this town.’
‘So you haven’t seen her for a while?’
‘No, not since … probably before Christmas, I guess.’
‘Did you know her well?’
‘Quite well, or that’s to say we hung out a lot. She was nice. She would always share a hit; she was never stingy like that. And she would lend you money if she had any.’
‘And you just know her as Cisse? You don’t know any more? Her surname? Or where she lived?’
‘I don’t think she lived anywhere,’ Synne said. ‘And I don’t know her surname, no. Have you talked to Kevin?’
‘Who?’
‘Kevin? They were always together. I used to think she was his mum, but I don’t think so now, I think they were just close friends. Whatever, if you find Kevin, he’ll probably know more.’
Synne coughed lightly and tightened the wool jacket around herself even more.
‘And how do I find Kevin?’
‘I don’t know. He’s everywhere and nowhere. Just like the rest of us.’
‘You don’t know where he is most of the time? Or if he has a mobile?’
‘No, no idea,’ the young woman said.
‘How old is he? What does he look like?’
‘He’s not that old. A little older than me, perhaps. Last time I saw him he was wearing that yellow beanie of his, but maybe that won’t help you. He could have lost it, I wouldn’t know.’
‘Yes, of course, but even so, I’ll look out for a yellow beanie,’ Mia said as the door opened behind them and Mildrid Lind popped her head round.
‘Synne, the doctor can see you now. Would you like that?’
‘Yes, I would.’ The young woman nodded and got up.
Lind looked at Mia, who nodded back.
‘Oh, by the way,’ Synne said in the doorway, ‘his eyebrows are strange.’
‘Whose? Kevin’s?’
‘Yes. They’re bit like – it’s almost as if they’re not there, if you know what I mean. I think there’s something wrong with them.’