by John Schou
officially also nothing to do with me. Have you forgotten that it was not mysterious at all, it was cardiac arrest? What is the reason for your interest?”
“To answer the last question first, I just saw a man whom I believe I recognize as the man I saw leaving the room shortly before 6 p.m., you remember I told you in Shepherd’s Hotel?”
“No!”
I felt a need to change the subject. “And finally, each death results in cardiac arrest. I hope this evening to receive the results from de Boer, what might have caused it. I promised to keep you informed. But the man I talked about was in company with the one I call Mr. X. For whatever reason, they are still in the city.”
“And where did you see them?”
“Less than 500 meters from your office, close to the City Hall Square.”
“Excellent. Since you must also be near me, please let us continue the conversation in my office at the Police Yard. I shall be available right away.”
“I have only one problem: I am driving Mr. Smith’s immodest car, which was not created for being parked anywhere in the City. But I can invite you for a drive, then we can continue the discussion here.”
He immediately agreed in this idea. When can you be here?”
“I’m already here, by the entrance opposite Tivoli.”
A few minutes later, he entered with the words, “OK Eric, follow that car!”
“Which car?”
“It was just a joke. Your majestic vehicle is anyhow not the right tool for fast car-hunting, but get going somewhere around. It is preferable to get away from here for what we are now going to discuss. That is the reason why I agreed to meet you here in this car.”
“I thought it was in order to make me a favour.”
He sighed. “You, a favour? It could cost me my carrier if I were seen together with the man who threw one of the bombs yesterday!”
“Shall I drive to Amager?”
“No, just circle around, I guess it won’t take long. First tell me about the murderer you saw, which I apparently forgot you told me Friday evening.”
I made a full confession. I even told him about George’s list of participants. Of course, he was not happy for all this late additional information.
“Is there more to be considered under this general amnesty for keeping important information away from the investigating authorities?”
Should I criticize that the authorities were no longer investigating? No, on Friday evening, they certainly were. I should better bow my head and receive his absolution.
“At least, this gives us an excellent occasion to find out, who may still be involved.”
I did not follow him.
“It is very simple. The culprits are still here, you say. Then it is most probable that they still live at Shepherd’s. Drive there and wait for me outside, I shall just get a list of their guests from yesterday evening, then we can drive to Hellerup and compare it to Mr. Osborne’s list and a very limited amount of names should remain. You can even make a copy for your own use and also make a copy of Mr. Osborne’s list for you to keep. I shall, of course, keep the original.”
“Even if you are officially not investigating the case?”
“You have a point there. OK, you keep the original, but make me a good copy.”
At Shepherd’s I waited in the small yard. Thanks to the modern techniques, Mr. Erlandsson needed less than 10 minutes.
“The list includes 687 names,” he muttered and showed it to me.
I studied it briefly. “Of which 682 arrived yesterday. That leaves 5 interesting guests.”
“I should still like to compare it to Mr. Osborne’s list.”´
“Of course.” But what would Mr. Smith say, if I suddenly came along with the chief inspector? I looked at the watch – quarter past 12. In 15 minutes, I could have lunch with him in Hellerup, provided I got rid of Erlandsson before. That, however, seemed impossible. I decided for a different strategy: “Can I invite you for a small lunch here before we proceed to Hellerup?”
“But not at Shepherd’s?”
“I said a small lunch. I will still be better than what they offer you in the Police Yard.” He agreed and I called Juanita that I would be too late for lunch and would have it in the city. I decided to pay myself without charging Mr. Smith the expenses. The present from Jeannine made me feel rich, although I had still not counted the size of her goodness. There were, however, also lower limits to the standard I could offer. I had to get rid of the car in a comparatively safe place, at best not underground. The Captain’s hotel in the city offered such a possibility, while their restaurant – there was only one – had an acceptable standard for both of us, only Mr. Smith would not be enthusiastic about it.
“Excellent, thanks for the lunch. I hope you can deduct it from your species account.”
“I fear not, but don’t mention it to Mr. Smith, then I shall try,” I claimed. It was now a few minutes past one p.m. and he should be firmly asleep, so I turned the car in direction of Hellerup. There I asked Juanita for coffee and wanted to go to my office with Mr. Erlandsson, but then I noticed she was very upset. “What’s wrong, Juanita?”
“The Polish lady did not turn up – I don’t know why.” Obviously she feared that her holiday was now in danger.
“Then we shall call the agency which suggested her.”
“Mr. Smith already did, but until now, they did not react.”
“Give them another hour, then I shall also be active,” I said. “And now for the coffee!”
I started making a copy for me from the hotel’s list, then two copies from George’s notes which I cautiously stored afterwards.
“So we have to look for these five persons who stayed at the hotel at least since Sunday,” I said and after five minutes added, “It is very simple. They are all at his list, and all have a small note from Mr. Osborne. According to that, Harry Jones is member of MI6 in UK, Dennis Brush from CIA by Big Brother, Jean Lepoint from DCRI in France, Hans Schulz from BND in Germany and Efraim Abrams from Mossad in Israel.”
“It is not forbidden. These are all regular civil servants. As I was informed, DCRI is a young organisation, formed in 2008.”
“Let us see what we can find about it in the net. Here is something: The old organization, ‘Direction Centrale des Renseignements Généraux,’ was split up in a number of organizations, but nobody was fired, and there had been a lot of accusations, as usual for these silent bodies. It seems that it had close links to ‘Action Directe’ when they were given the honour of all terror attacks in France. I guess it was just a new name for an old dubious society.”
“And the Germans?”
“The BND, Bundesnachrichtendienst, works closely together with Mossad and CIA, the leading sources of today’s terror-attacks. They appear to have been involved in some events ascribed to the Red Army Fraction in the late 1980ies and to Al Qaida as that became modern in the third millennium. Their sister organization, Constitution Security or in German Verfassungsschutz, supplies with a blind spot on the right eye.”
“It is all very new to me, that the civil servants, whose primary task should be to protect us against terror attacks, actually are those who produce them,” Erlandsson admitted.
“It was difficult to me, too, but studying 9/11 in connection to another case opened my mind, although it took some time to accept it. I’ll show you some of the many discrepancies on another occasion. For now, let us concentrate on the London bombings of 7/7, which bears similarities to yesterday’s assault.”
And I took time to show him my file about 7/7, which lasted almost an hour. In the end, he got tired and just ended with one question: “But why do they do it?”
“The so-called war against terror has caused explosive increases in the budgets of these ‘intelligence’ societies. Each of their apparent failures is rewarded with new employments and travels to those already with a fat monthly income. According to Parkinson’s theory, your position increases with the number of persons engage
d under you. And a deeper explanation is given with the destruction of civil rights, which occurs with equal pace. But I’ll call you a taxi now, it is getting late and Mr. Smith’s siesta has almost ended …”
“Talking about siesta a week before Christmas,” he snared with despise.
“Call it what you want. I shall, of course pay your taxi.”
“No need. After that excellent lunch you sponsored,” he said and collected his papers. Suddenly he arose as if awoken, “We forgot to discuss a strategy, how to proceed.” While he talked, I ordered a taxi by phone.
“We should leave that to Mr. Smith – if we should at all proceed. I find little inspiration to fight the big organisations. It is a modern version of Don Quichote against the windmills. They are simply too big for us.”
“Then why did we spend the day this way?”
“Perhaps they find reason to fight us – primarily me and Mr. Smith.”
He smiled. “You are right. And for that reason, I don’t know you. You are now as lonesome as one can be. I shall wait for the cab outside – alone.”
“Not quite. I still need to park the big car, which I better do right now before its owner comes down. But if we are leaving now, you may avoid meeting him, the even more lonesome giant.” It was still a quarter to three as we walked out. Outside, it was still too warm for mid-December. “There shall be no white Christmas this year, it seems.”
“That’s OK with me,” Erlandsson answered. When I need snow, I go home to North Sweden. Here it is just a disturbance. Too little to enjoy and enough to bother about.”
His taxi came and we parted. I parked the car and entered the house.
8 – A New Household Help
I was hardly inside the main door as Juanita came out in the entrance. “Did you forget your promise?”
“No, I’ll call the agency right away.” Which I then did.
“Mrs. Petrovic suddenly got ill, but I found a good replacement for her, who will come tomorrow morning” a lady there answered. “But Mr. Smith asked me to call him a quarter past three. Can you connect me now?”
“Only with a telepathic connection to his dream World, but he cut that line. If you call in twenty minutes, as he suggested, you can tell him further details.”
“Couldn’t you transfer the information to him?”
“I could, but since he is the one who pays, he will appreciate to hear your voice as well.”
“So why did you call anyway?”
“Our present housekeeper needs to know if she shall change the plans for her Christmas holiday. Thanks for the forecast.” I hung up.
“In short, you can maintain your plans, leaving the day after tomorrow, if the new household help grasps quickly and she survives the shock that a confrontation with Mr. Smith will undoubtedly precipitate,” I told Juanita. “Further details will be given soon to the boss.”
At three o’clock, precise as ever, Mr. Smith came down for coffee in his central office. I gave him a fast report of the day’s occurrences so far, including a mention of the call to the agency. I had hardly finished as the lady from there called, as told at 15:15 sharp. Mr. Smith recognized the number in the display and answered the call personally:
“Yes, Smith speaking … I am sorry to hear … What illness? … So you have found another woman … What, it is a man?” His speak became louder and even more with the next recognition: “A German man? … No problem, I speak German, too, I only thought … and you have no alternatives? … I understand, so close to Christmas … Yes, you too, when will Mr. Meier arrive? … Thanks.” And he hung up.
Quite coincidentally, it seemed, Juanita knocked the door and entered. “Yes, Juanita, your holiday is secured. The replacement will come tomorrow morning. Perhaps not an ideal substitute but let it be my problem. Therefore, you are welcome back in January. I do not think you need to fear the competition.”
Juanita was happy, yes she was