When Civil Servants Fail

by John Schou

that is the confidential part: the pathologist told me that he was urged not to report anything special and prohibited from making toxicological tests. This is where the plain cloth policeman meets his limits. But perhaps you have an idea.”

  “Give me a sample of blood and urine, and keep another one secured, then I can let Boers Ltd. in Amsterdam make an independent toxicological examination. It is not official, but it shows us what we can find at a later examination when we look for it.”

  “Great idea, as if it came from me. In fact, I had the same idea and here is what you asked for.” Mr. Erlandsson handed me three big test tubes, one with full blood, one with plasma and one with urine. “You’d better freeze it immediately.”

  I brought them to the kitchen and asked Juanita for a plastic bag, before mixing it with the foodstuff. “We only have a conventional freezer,” I stated, back in the Office.

  “Never mind, in the evening, the samples are on their way towards Shiphol, and you shall, of course, receive a copy of the result. If you can then use it, is another case, Mr. Smith commented.

  “Mr. Smith, please now take this challenge. I ask you to investigate it on my behalf, and on my expenses,” Mrs. Dumont said.

  “I am sorry, but this is impossible. Also Mr. Erlandsson will probably never be allowed to solve this crime, even if he had a written confession from the killer. And if we prove it was murder, the authorities will claim it was suicide – which will be gratefully supported by any life insurance company”

  “I am afraid, you are right. The members of the company really have a licence to kill. It is almost an honour to be killed by them, even if you are then proclaimed a terrorist.”

  “Please delete the last comment of Mr. Erlandsson,” I said to the imaginary protocol-writer.

  “I am not convinced so fast,” Jeannine said. “Anyhow, it is good to know that George was not part of that sinister company, now that we know what they might be up to.”

  “And what are they up to?” Mr. Erlandsson wanted to know.

  “Anything bad, as you have already seen with Mr. Osborne,” Mr. Smith interrupted. “So Mr. Erlandsson, I hope we have been able to help you. I believe you have a big programme for today; we shall not disturb it further. Mr. Gusto, can you help Mr. Erlandsson out?” He said it with an expression, undoubtedly meaning ‘and take care he is out when the door is closed – and locked.’

  Erlandsson felt that something important might be coming up, but he also knew that his time by Mr. Smith had passed, so after a fraction of a second, an intermission only noticed by a trained eye, he stood up, saying, “Yes, I have indeed a lot to do. The conference at Shepherd’s ends today, so if I shall interview any witnesses, it is urgent. But we’ll keep in touch.” Mr. Erlandsson indicated that he left because he wanted to, not because Mr. Smith said that the time had come.

  I followed our guest out and made sure that the door was locked behind him. As I returned, the ladies tried to persuade Mr. Smith to take the case.

  “Normally, that would imply that I searched for a killer with the purpose of turning him to justice. That has no point in this case. Whatever I find out, it will be postulated that Mr. Osborne died of a natural cause. The best I could possibly do is to convince you of the opposite, which is anyhow the case. So it is simply a vast of your money and …” he sighed deeply before mentioning the worst, “… my work. Besides, we have an important job to take care of these days.”

  “I also have to arrange the funeral of George in London,” Jeannine said.

  “There are undertakers who take care of that,” Alice responded. “You just have to select among some alternatives …”

  “And buy clothes for the occasion and make a list of people to invite and talk to this and that person – be sure, there is a lot to do. I better get started. I can buy the clothes in Copenhagen on Monday. For now, I can call his parents and deliver them the sad news.”

  “Please feel free to use Mr. Gusto’s office and phone for that,” Mr. Smith said.

  “Alice, help her with my computer, by email she can reach a lot of people at once. And for Monday, stay away from Central Copenhagen in the morning, it may be very troublesome according to some information I have got.”

  “So you will be there,” she reasoned sharply.

  “Of course, somebody has to make the trouble.”

  Having gotten the ladies aside, I continued my report with the issues I had omitted, my experiences in the lower part of the hotel when Alice and Jeannine had gone shopping. Partly, I had already informed him with my phone calls, but there were some details I had kept for now, such as the experiences with Mr. X, as I now called the man with the high-pitched voice, the remotely-controlled letter bomb and the paper from George with the list of participants.

  Then we considered the list of participants, Jeannine had found in George’s spare trousers. The country of origin was printed but in handwriting was added, presumably by George himself, which organisation the person was representing. There were a few ministries, sometimes with added ‘constitutional defence,’ sometimes an unknown organization, but also well-known such as CIA, NSA, MI5, MI6, BKK, BND, Mossad and so on, all from Western Europe, North America or Israel – even a Dane from PET which was hosting the meeting and probably only tolerated for paying the bill. Under the long double columned and two-paged list, which continued on the back of the page, there was something written in hastily handwriting. I decided that it was ‘Gladio,’ which I believe to have heard before.

  To Mr. Smith, Gladio was a definite concept. “It seems George was in the wrong film here. The assault, which is scheduled for tomorrow, is typical for an act of Gladio, but perhaps their first in Denmark. Perhaps it is not assigned to them. Ironical, our civil servants, whose task it should be to protect us from terrorism, is arranging this to emphasize the importance of their existence, and afterwards they are using their crime to demand increased budgets.”

  “And how can we prevent it?”

  “We cannot prevent it, but we can use their own weapon – the public terror neurosis, you may call it ‘terroritis’ – to ameliorate its effect. But we should at best know, in which train the bombs are brought. Let us first study the two predecessors, the assault in Madrid on March 11, 2004 and in London on July 7, 2005.”

  I found the notes to the two assaults and we read them interchanged.

  “It seems they prefer to let bombs explode in driving trains,” I remarked.

  “Yes, they want as many victims as possible. But even if there are only two bombs, we can hardly predict their direction. Moreover the problem is, that we preferably have to stop the trains before the explosion – and then we do not know, if there are more than two bombs.”

  “But even then, it is preferable to stop the trains before, at best on stations, and that should be a small problem. Stop one train in each direction and we have a total break-down. That is four trains altogether,” I counted.

  “Wrong, while one train is on the station, the next may still be underway, perhaps even containing the bomb, meaning that you will have to stop it before the next one – so we have 8 trains to care about. Go to your office and get a plan of their arrival from the Internet,” he ordered.

  I was so happy to get away from him that I even forgave him for not saying ‘please’.” In my office, the girls were occupied at the computer but permitted me to open a new window and do my research. I printed out a plan for both metro and S-train. Before I left them again, I asked them for their plans for today.

  “After the stressful time and the sorrowful events, I imagine that we just go to my place and stay there,” Alice said.

  “And tomorrow?”

  “Jeannine must clarify details about the transfer of George’s body to London. Afterwards she wants to see Elsinore. She heard a lot about the statue of Hamlet in the cellar.”

  “Perhaps you should save her the disappointment that the statue is not of Hamlet?”

  She laughed. “We cleared that already.
How about yourself?”

  “I shall be very busy until Monday afternoon. Afterwards, I am either a hero or a terrorist. I may be free in the late afternoon, if I am not in jail.”

  “Call me around noon, if you are free – and perhaps, you can get the car from Mr. Smith?”

  “If I am successful, I may probably borrow it as a reward.”

  “You make me nervous. What is the big secret?”

  “As most big secrets, it is a secret. However, if you promise not to tell anyone, I am going to throw a bomb. That’s what most terrorists do.”

  “You are impossible. Then, please tell me what it was all about when it is all over.”

  I promised. “Leave the computer on and tell us when you are leaving.”

  “There are still some uncertainties,” I told Mr. Smith. Especially concerning the Metro. In the morning, there is a train in each direction every two minutes, and cellular phones are probably not working in the tunnel. The bomb may therefore be released by a conventional timer. Above the ground, they may use mobile phones, but if they work with a timer in one place, they’ll stick to that in the other as well – or the others, if there are more than two bombs.”

  “Therefore, I think of another strategy than I had first intended.”

  And we discussed the methods and means.

  5 – The First Bomb I ever Threw

  On Monday morning, I was at the station in Valby. At 8:31, I was to take the C-train towards the city. This was the train which should be at Nørreport at 8:42, the closest to the scheduled bombing time. In the other direction, it should arrive only one minute later, but assuming an underground explosion could cause more devastation, it seemed reasonable to expect that this was a train foreseen for the calamity. My task was to take care about creating panic in case the anonymous call, made by Mr. Smith himself from a stolen mobile telephone (which I had bought cheap at the main station) at 8:25, failed to stop the traffic. We had discussed the optimal time span. Too early might influence the plans and give the conspirators a second chance which we would know nothing about; the consequence of too late alarm was obvious. And then, there was still a risk that nobody wanted to react to the alarm.

  The train was precise – nothing to be guaranteed in Denmark – and I entered the hind wagon. I went through the train, without noticing anything suspicious. The train was full of people, who were starting working in the city at 9 a.m. The next station, Flintholm, I used to change the wagon. At the main station, I was in the front wagon. If the train was not stopped at the next station, I should release the emergency brake. Then I saw him.

  I believe he was a North African type. He was carrying a large rucksack. I went to him and he looked nervously at me. The train starts towards the station Vesterport, just a few hundred meters away. At Vesterport, my preparedness for action was replaced through a demand for all to leave the train because of a bomb alarm. It was not necessary for me to contribute to the panic, the gymnastic effectuated at the doors was phantastic and prevented most of the passengers from leaving the train. But I and my suspect were standing near the doors and the first to get out. I kept my hands on the rucksack, and as a reaction he took it off. That was a confirmation that something was strange with this luggage, otherwise he would not give his property up so easy.

  I had no use for the young man – actually, he was probably just a patsy, like the four young men in London in 2005. Revealing his identity would support the conspiracy behind this terror act. The Rucksack, however, may have contained a bomb and should therefore be thrown away from the fleeing people. I hope the other train would not appear to soon and threw it on the rail at the other side of the platform, then I also ran away. “Run away,”