by Samuel Bjork
‘Show me.’
Tongue out.
‘Good boy. Next.’
She pressed a few buttons and found a radio station she liked, music to distract her mind. She turned up the sound and sat drumming her fingers on the steering wheel, while she peered out through the windscreen for the lights that would soon show up.
‘Do you think you can manage that, Helene?’
Their hair had been bleached. They had all worn the same clothes. Done everything the women told them. Always the same, day in and day out. School, yoga, housework, homework, pills, school, yoga, housework, homework, pills. Thirty years ago. How long would it retain its hold over her?
‘I know it’s difficult, but I’m here to help you.’
Helene Eriksen took out the packet from her pocket and lit another cigarette, although she did not really want one, rolled down the window so the smoke could escape, but closed it quickly; way too cold outside.
‘What are you thinking about, Helene?’
Twelve years old in a chair in Oslo in front of a strange man with a moustache.
‘It’s not your fault, do you understand that, Helene?’
She took another drag on her cigarette and turned up the volume of the radio again; she liked how the music filled the car.
Bankruptcy Auction. Market garden for sale.
She had been twenty-two years old and she had done what they wanted her to do. Got an education. Made something of herself.
Location: Hurumlandet. 28 hectares of land. Three greenhouses. In good condition, but in need of restoration.
She had caught the bus out there. And she had felt so certain afterwards; this was what she really wanted to do with her life.
Help others.
Helene turned off the radio, checked her watch and got out of the car again. She considered lighting another cigarette but decided there was no point, so she just stood with her hands stuffed in the pockets of her jacket, staring into the darkness.
‘What are you thinking about now, Helene?’
But she had to do something. She lit another cigarette.
More than thirty years ago? Surely she should be over it by now?
Helene Eriksen took another drag on her cigarette as the lights she had been waiting for suddenly appeared and the white van pulled up and stopped right next to her.
‘Hi, what’s up?’ the man behind the wheel said.
‘Don’t tell me you haven’t heard?’ Helene replied.
‘Heard what?’
‘Tell me you’re joking,’ Helene said, and went right up to him.
She could see him mulling it over, before he spoke.
‘Yes, but it has nothing to do with me.’
Helene really wanted to believe him. She would have given anything to be able to believe him, but she could not quite convince herself.
Her brother.
He had no clothes on.
He was completely naked, but his whole body was covered by … feathers?
‘They’re asking questions,’ she said, tightening her jacket around her.
‘About what?’
‘About everyone, everything.’
‘For Christ’s sake, Helene. Do you really think I did it?’
‘You were down there, weren’t you? In your cottage? All summer? You weren’t at home, were you? I just had to … ask you. I love you so much.’ She smiled weakly.
Her brother smiled and stuck his hand out of the open side window.
‘I love you too, Helene, but seriously? Why are we meeting in the middle of nowhere, late at night? There’s no need for that.’
She felt like an idiot now. She tightened her jacket even more as her brother smiled and held her hand through the open window.
‘No, I know, it’s just … You know, the feathers and everything.’
‘I finished with that a long time ago. Now go home and get some sleep, will you?’
Helene Eriksen felt his warm hand leave hers before he rolled up the window.
And then he was gone again, just as swiftly as he had appeared.
FIVE
Chapter 40
Holger Munch seemed well rested as he stood in front of the overhead screen in the incident room; he smiled as he waited for everyone to sit down. Gabriel Mørk did not feel quite so perky. For the first time since the investigation began, he had considered staying at home. Take a day off to create some distance from it all. The film he had seen had distressed him, he felt unwell; perhaps he was coming down with some kind of bug? Besides, spending a day with his girlfriend would be good, wouldn’t it? Perhaps they could go shopping for baby clothes for the little boy who would soon arrive.
And yet he had gone to work, because Gabriel knew that these were all excuses. The real reason he did not feel like going in was Skunk. He knew questions would be asked. They needed to find him, and Gabriel was the obvious candidate to do that, but the truth was that the young hacker had no idea how to find his old friend.
‘Right, everyone, good morning.’ Munch smiled from the projector as people started to settle down. ‘I’m sorry I bailed out on you last night, must be old age.’
He winked at them, and was rewarded with muted laughter from his team.
‘Before I begin, does anyone have anything that I don’t know about?’
Gabriel could see Ylva shift restlessly in her chair; she had been the first person to arrive at the incident room and was clearly keen to share a discovery she had made.
‘I have something,’ she said, smiling, not raising her hand this time.
‘Go on?’ Munch said.
‘The tattoo.’ Ylva got up to pass Munch a sheet of paper.
The young woman continued to stand up, unsure as to whether she should sit down again, while Munch assessed the paper she had given him.
‘Aha, great.’ He smiled. ‘What are we looking at?’
Munch nodded to indicate that she could stay put in order to share this new information with the rest of the team. Gabriel could see that Ylva was a little nervous, but she was mostly proud at having spotted something; she stuffed her hand into her pocket and paused before she began speaking.
‘OK, so, Camilla had this tattoo on her arm, didn’t she?’
Nodding across the room.
A horse’s head with the letters A and F below it.
‘I stayed up last night because something about it kept bugging me. It kept going round my mind; I knew that I had seen it somewhere before, but I couldn’t remember where.’
Ylva was smiling faintly now, but stared at the floor before she continued. It was clear she felt a little awkward being in front of everyone else but also that she was excited.
Munch had found the photograph of the tattoo, which formed a part of the display behind him. Camilla’s arm. The horse’s head. The letters A and F.
‘And then I wondered, what if they’re not just the letters A and F? What about this line, do you see it?’
Ylva went up to the wall and pointed at the tattoo. The team gave her all their attention now; they seemed to be finally waking up.
‘What if this line isn’t just a line but another letter? Can you see it?’
‘An L?’ Mia nodded slowly.
‘Exactly.’ Ylva smiled. ‘What if the letters are not just A and F, but, yes, look here …’
She went up to the wall and pointed again. ‘ALF.’
‘ALF?’ Curry yawned. ‘The guy’s name is Alf?’
Scattered laughter.
‘What?’ Curry said, looking around.
‘Ignore him, Ylva.’ Munch nodded.
‘I didn’t realize what it was, until I spotted the L. And it took some searching, but I found this on the Internet last night.’
She glanced across to Munch.
‘I’ve printed out several copies. Would you like me to …?’
Munch smiled and nodded. Ylva went quickly back to her seat and distributed the print-outs.
‘What are we looking at?’ Kim Kols
ø asked.
‘The Animal Liberation Front,’ Ylva said, now back next to Munch. ‘ALF. It’s their logo, or one of them, at least. The horse’s head with the initials below.’
There was murmuring across the room, and the young woman beamed with pride. She glanced quickly at Munch again, who nodded for her to continue.
‘The Animal Liberation Front was formed in England back in 1974 and is today active in more than forty countries. They’re known for their aggressive attitude to people and companies that keep animals in captivity, especially labs that carry out animal testing. They have been called a terrorist organization on behalf of animals. They don’t shy away from using vicious, sometimes illegal means to achieve their goals.’
‘And we have those in Norway?’ Mia asked.
‘That’s where it gets a bit complicated,’ Ylva went on. ‘In Norway, they also call themselves the Animal Liberation Front, and they were very active between 1992 and 2004, carrying out a series of raids against fur farmers, shops selling furs, and so on. They have their own website, but it hasn’t been updated since 2009, so I’m not sure whether they’re still active or whether they have just gone underground.’
Ylva looked at Munch again, who indicated that she could sit down.
‘So our friend Camilla Green had an Animal Liberation Front tattoo on her arm.’
Munch looked down at the piece of paper Ylva had given him. and smiled at her again.
‘Good work, Ylva. Really good work.’
The young woman blushed happily.
‘I want you to keep working on this. See what you can find out. Can we link Camilla to them in any recent raids? Ludvig will help you with the archives and anything else you might need, OK?’
Ylva nodded at Ludvig, who smiled back.
‘Good,’ Munch said. ‘A great start to the day.’
Gabriel expected that Munch would go outside for a cigarette now, but he did not. He turned to the projector instead, clearly keen to get on.
‘We have quite a few leads now, so it’s time that we prioritize them, OK?’
Nodding from the team.
‘First, the evidence found at the Nurseries. Cannabis?’
He looked towards Kim Kolsø.
‘Not that many plants, seven or eight maybe.’
‘And do we think it’s relevant to our investigation?’
Kim shrugged. ‘It’s too early to say, but it’s worth checking out. I know it’s not our department, and I can’t imagine that our friends from the Drug Squad will be all that interested in such a small amount, but the way I see it, Helene Eriksen has some explaining to do.’
‘If she knew about them, that is,’ Munch said.
‘Of course,’ Kolsø said. ‘But somebody out there did, and it might lead us to something.’
‘Right, definitely. We’ll pay them another visit. Kim, will you handle that?’
Kolsø nodded.
‘Good. And while you’re out there, the note with the owl drawing. It’s our strongest lead so far. Find out if anyone at the Nurseries has seen it before. Did someone there write it? Does anyone there know anything about it?’
Kim Kolsø nodded again. ‘I’ll deal with it.’
‘I’m coming with you,’ Curry said.
‘Good,’ Munch said, clicking. The next picture appeared. ‘The wig?’
‘Yes,’ Ludvig said, looking down at his notes. ‘Quite an expensive item, genuine hair, not something you can buy just anywhere. Only a few shops in this country stock this type of thing, but there’s one called …’ He flicked through his papers. ‘Ruh’s Wigs, up in Frogner. I thought we might start there. If it was bought there, they might have some paperwork. If not, perhaps they can give us an idea where the killer might have got it.’
‘Good,’ Munch clicked again. ‘And then we have these.’
Gabriel pushed back against his chair when he saw two photographs he had never seen before. He noticed that several of his colleagues reacted in the same way.
‘What?’ Curry said, staring at the screen.
‘Anette?’ Munch said, nodding to the blonde police lawyer.
‘As you probably know,’ Goli took over, ‘a man confessed to the murder a few days ago. Jim Fuglesang, aged thirty-two, who lives not far from the place where Camilla was found. A psychiatric patient at Dikemark Hospital for several years, as we understand it. As you already know, we don’t believe that he is our killer. What is interesting is that, when he turned himself in at Grønland, he had these pictures on him.’
Gabriel looked closely at them. They showed a cat and a dog. Killed and posed in the same manner as Camilla Green. On a bed of feathers. In a pentagram of candles.
‘Oh my God!’ Ylva exclaimed.
‘What the hell is this?’ Curry grunted.
Munch gave a light shrug. ‘That’s exactly what we don’t know. What are we looking at? Any suggestions?’ He looked across the room.
‘Bloody hell!’ Curry swore again. ‘The same ritual? With two animals? What kind of sick bastard is this?’
He looked quickly towards Mia.
‘Maybe he or they are practising. There’s certainly an escalation but, without further information, I’m not sure we can conclude much. As Munch said, we just don’t know,’ replied Mia, who was unusually subdued today.
It was clear that they had been studying the pictures for a while without coming up with an explanation. Gabriel did not know why the pictures had not been shared with everyone in the team until now, but Munch and Mia usually had their reasons.
‘It hasn’t been possible for us to interview Jim Fuglesang because, well …’
He looked towards Anette Goli again.
‘I spoke to a consultant at Dikemark yesterday, and he says that Fuglesang can’t be disturbed under any circumstances. Clearly, it all became too much for him, and I believe he has stopped talking altogether. He is heavily medicated. I didn’t get the details – doctor–patient confidentiality, and all that – but that was how I understood it.’
‘But it’s on our to-do list, isn’t it?’ Munch said.
‘Obviously,’ Goli nodded. ‘As soon as it’s feasible.’
‘Where did he take these pictures? When did he take them? We need to find that out as soon as we can.’
Munch turned towards the grotesque photographs of the animals on the screen again.
‘Mia?’
Mia Krüger got up from her chair now and walked up to Munch. There was something about her today, her eyes, her posture; she seemed terribly exhausted, not quite with it.
‘As Holger said, we don’t understand the connection yet, but there is one; there can be little doubt about that. This must relate to the murder of Camilla Green. It can’t be a coincidence.’
She pointed to the pictures.
‘The feathers. The candles. And, not least, the posing of the arms or, in this case, the paws, do you see? Arranged at the same angles as Camilla’s. One up. And one down to the side. Twelve noon and four o’clock. But why? We don’t know that yet.’
Mia looked as if she was about to add something, but changed her mind and went back to her chair. Munch looked around at the assembly again.
‘Any first impressions?’
‘Sick son of a bitch,’ Curry growled.
‘Thank you, Curry,’ Holger said. ‘Any other first impressions? Associations? Anything?’
No one said anything. The others seemed just as shocked as Gabriel at the photographs in front of them.
‘OK, we’ll leave it for now. Until we’re able to interview Jim Fuglesang again, OK?’
Munch looked across to Anette Goli again, who nodded in return.
‘OK,’ Munch said, clicking again.
Another picture appeared on the wall, and once again Gabriel was startled, while the others stayed calm. They must have looked at this yesterday after he had had to go home. It was a still photograph from the footage.
A feather-clad figure.
A human being
with feathers?
Gabriel could not help shuddering, and it came back to him. The nausea. This was no ordinary murder case. He steeled himself and noticed how everyone else around him had also grown very quiet. Munch seemed to weigh his words carefully before he spoke.
‘Like I said when we saw it yesterday, we have a feeling that what we’re seeing here is the killer.’
‘Shit,’ Curry said, shaking his head.
‘I know the image is blurred,’ Munch said, as he pointed, ‘but it looks as if someone is sitting there.’
Gabriel could see that Munch was starting to struggle.
‘Watching her,’ he added quickly, then pulled himself together again. ‘Camilla is a prisoner. And she has an audience. Someone who, well …?’
‘A bird man?’ Curry said. ‘What is this really about? Who the hell has feathers all over their body?’
‘Our thinking is that this … creature, is watching her. That he has her locked up in order to watch. Perhaps purely for his own enjoyment? We don’t know.’
Gabriel saw Munch glance at Mia – this was her field, this was where she usually explained baffling elements like these to them – but Mia continued to sit quietly on her seat.
‘OK,’ Munch said, scratching his head. ‘Yes, we don’t understand what we’re dealing with here, but we need to discuss it.’
Munch looked across to Mia again, but there was still no response.
‘The owl feathers,’ Ludvig Grønlie said.
‘Yes,’ Munch said. He seemed relieved that someone else had joined in.
‘I found out something, but I don’t know if it’s relevant.’
Ludvig looked at his notes again.
‘What is it?’ Munch asked.
‘It was buried in the archives, not a priority – I stumbled across it by accident, whether it’s useful I don’t know, but even so—’
‘What did you find?’
‘There was a break-in some months ago, at the Natural History Museum in Tøyen. Like I said, a minor case, but it caught my eye because there was something unusual about it.’
Everyone looked at the older investigator.
‘I’m sure you all know where the museum is? It forms part of the Botanical Gardens in Tøyen. They also have a natural-history block. And on …’