“Whose phone did he spy on?”
“His wife’s phone. He was snooping on her calls earlier today.”
“Agnes Haugen’s phone?”
“Ja . . . she’s always had our top-of-the-line phones.”
“Why?”
“Because Nokia gives the newest models to senior technology managers like Gunnar Haugen . . . the idea is to get managers and their families to use them a lot . . . and test them for free so that we can find out if the phones have any software bugs or hardware defects.”
Sohlberg’s mind raced as he tried to figure out the twisted relationship between Gunnar and Agnes Haugen. “So . . . Herr Haugen knows who contacts his wife . . . and whom she calls or texts or sends images to?”
“Ja. The software lets him read every phone number that calls in and that she dials out . . . and he can see all of the text messages and images sent and received on the phone.”
“What kind of information did he find on his wife’s computer and cell phone use?”
“Well . . . .”
“Go ahead tell the officer,” said the HR apparatchik.
“Apart from the normal use that one would expect of her contacts with friends and family and various businesses from time to time . . . his wife . . . his wife . . . well . . . she uses her computer and cell phone to communicate with a lot of men in a . . . a sexual or erotic context . . . she arranges meetings with them at their homes or at hotels and other locations. She also sends a lot of nude pictures of herself to men . . . a few of the men also sent her nude pictures of themselves.”
“Can we see whom she wrote to and when?”
“Ja. He stored everything that he’s spied on her for the past two years in his hard drive. We copied his entire hard drive last night as you requested since we own the computer and all content on the computer. This binder has a plastic pouch with a portable hard drive that contains everything in his computer’s hard drive and . . . as requested . . . we’ve included a flash drive that stored everything she’s ever done on every Nokia cell phone she’s used for the past two years.”
“Excellent. Thank you. What are all those pages in the binder?”
“A sample print-out on everything that he’s seen on her computer and her cell phone during the past four weeks.”
“Let me go over one point . . . you copied everything on his computer . . . including everything that he’s gathered from spying on her in his company computer?”
“Ja.”
Sohlberg mused over the explosive and intrusive nature of the material that Gunnar Haugen had collected on his wife. The chess player and lawyer in Sohlberg needed to make sure that a criminal prosecution or conviction would not be set aside by a court because he had illegally obtained the computer and cell phone information. He said almost causally:
“And . . . technically and legally . . . all that information that belongs to Nokia . . . right?”
The techie said nothing. Instead he turned and looked at the Nokia Human Resources manager. The self-important but utterly forgettable manager cleared her throat and said:
“Ja Chief Inspector . . . technically and legally all that information belongs to Nokia. . . . Every Nokia employee signs an agreement that specifies that everything on any company computer or phone or digital equipment belongs to Nokia . . . and that includes any and all personal non-company information that the employee may have knowingly and unknowingly placed in the company’s computers or phones . . . whether intentionally or accidentally.”
“Very good.” said Sohlberg. He pointed at the Nokia techie. “Constable Wangelin will you please give him your business card with your e-mail and phone.”
“Ja. As long as he’s not able to spy on me or the force.”
Sohlberg wasn’t sure if Constable Wangelin was joking or serious. Either way Wangelin made her point because the HR person immediately interjected with:
“Oh . . . of course not . . . we’d never snoop on the police.”
Sohlberg wasn’t so sure. But he had an investigation to complete and an arrest to make. “Ah . . . before I forget . . . what can you tell me about Gunnar Haugen’s computer activity on June fourth of last year? . . . The day his son disappeared.”
“He was logged into one of our servers from eight in the morning to three in the afternoon. But the activity was not continuous . . . only sporadic . . . sometimes as much as half an hour would go by before he was active typing on the keyboard . . . designing and testing software. You will find in the binder a minute-by-minute timeline of his computer activity for that day.”
“Thank you. Now . . . please take us to Gunnar Haugen’s office.”
Constable Wangelin’s phone buzzed while they rode the elevator up to Gunnar Haugen’s offices on the top floor. When they got out on the lobby Wangelin pulled Sohlberg aside and said:
“Chief Inspector . . . they’re on the way to the grandfather’s farm . . . it’s near Hov . . . on the shores of the Randsfjorden.”
“Is the grandfather still alive . . . does he live at the farm?”
“No . . . he died two years ago,” said Wangelin. “But let me pull up a map on my phone and have you take a look at this coincidence.”
“Come now Constable Wangelin . . . there’s no such thing as a coincidence in a major crime case.”
“I know.”
The map on her cell phone screen showed Hov to be a small town located about 80 miles north of Oslo. Like Wangelin he noticed that Hov — a small cluster of homes and businesses next to the E-16 Highway to Bergen — was also about 20 miles southeast of the E-6 Highway to Trondheim.
“Well now,” said Sohlberg. “The grandfather’s farm and barn are near the E-Six Highway that Gunnar Haugen takes to drop off Karl Haugen with his mother.”
Wangelin nodded and smiled.
“Excuse me,” said Sohlberg to the Nokia HR manager. “We need to go back and ask a few more questions of your technical person.”
Twenty minutes later the techie confirmed that during the last three months Gunnar Haugen’s cell phone had received and transmitted several calls from a cell tower near the grandfather’s farm at Hov. Before that 3 month period Gunnar Haugen’s cell phone records showed no activity near the grandfather’s farm.
“Do you want me to check out the wife’s cell phone to see if she’s used her phone in that location?”
“That was my next question. Ja. Please.”
The techie said, “No. I don’t see anything the past three months in that area with her phone.”
Sohlberg frowned. “What about further back in time?”
After tapping at the keyboard a few times the techie said:
“Wait. There’s one hit on that tower thirteen months ago.”
“When exactly?”
“Noon on Saturday . . . May the eighth.”
Sohlberg wondered why Agnes Haugen had been at the farm one month before the boy’s disappearance. Of course her husband or anyone else for that matter could have taken her cell phone out there.
But other than her husband who would’ve done that?
He needed to find out from Gunnar or Agnes Haugen or someone else if one or both of them had been at the grandfather’s farm shortly before the fateful day of Karl’s disappearance.
“One last thing,” said Sohlberg urgently. “I noticed you said Gunnar’s phone showed that several calls were recently made and received in the area around Hov . . . and yet for Agnes Haugen’s phone you said a hit. What’s the difference?”
“A hit is when the person has the cell phone turned on but does not answer it.”
Chapter 12/Tolv
INTERROGATION OF GUNNAR HAUGEN,
AFTERNOON OF 1 YEAR AND 25 DAYS
AFTER THE DAY, FRIDAY, JUNE 4
“Gunnar Haugen . . . I’m Constable Wangelin and this is Chief Inspector Sohlberg. We have some questions for you. Can you come to the conference room with us?”
“Am I under arrest?”
Sohlberg found
the father’s question astonishing if not incriminating. Sohlberg looked him in the eye and said:
“Should you be?”
Gunnar Haugen instantly looked away. He paled and stared at the floor and said nothing more.
“Come this way Herr Haugen,” said Sohlberg grimly.
Gunnar Haugen hesitated.
Sohlberg then did what he rarely did. He only used this tactic to impress upon people the seriousness of his investigation and the possibility if not probability of an arrest. Even long-time criminals did not like what Sohlberg was about to do in such a personal and invasive manner. Sohlberg put a forceful grip on Gunnar Haugen’s forearm. The father’s arm jerked involuntarily.
“Let’s go Herr Haugen. Now.”
“Ja,” replied the engineer meekly as his co-workers stared.
Sohlberg was pleased. Everything was going according to plan. He could have questioned Gunnar Haugen quietly and in private after work or had him called down to the Human Resources department. Instead the public scene of being questioned at work guaranteed that the father’s co-workers would immediately call family and friends and that within an hour the media would issue reports about ‘breaking developments’ in the Karl Haugen case. The media frenzy would put intense pressure on Sohlberg’s next best suspects — the mother and the stepmother.
The HR manager escorted them to a windowless conference room and left. Wangelin took out a tape recorder and dictated the date and time and the identity of the persons in the room.
“Are we going to be here long?”
Sohlberg glared. “Do you have something more important Herr Haugen than answering questions about your missing son?”
“No . . . I was just wondering how long this will take. I have classes after work . . . down the street . . . on Nydalsveien.”
“What classes?”
“I’m enrolled in the executive M.B.A. program of the Handelshøyskolen B.I. . . . the B.I. Norwegian School of Management.”
“Oh really?” said Sohlberg as he took off his coat and sat down. “Believe it or not I’m familiar with it Herr Haugen . . . it’s one of the largest business schools in Europe. I almost went there instead of law school. I think we drove past it . . . a modern monster of a building . . . does it take up the entire city block?”
“Ja . . . that’s it.”
“I’m impressed . . . I remember when they were much smaller and went by the old B.I. name of Bedriftøkonomisk Institut . . . Institute of Managerial Economics.”
“That was before my time.”
“I see. Well . . . to answer your question . . . I have no idea how long we’re going to be here. I guess a lot depends on your cooperation and answers. Ja?”
“I . . . I don’t know what you want from me. I’ve cooperated with everything that the police have asked of me.”
Gunnar Haugen look surprised and somewhat worried. Sohlberg’s strategy of surprise was working despite the likelihood that Karl’s doctor had already called one or both of the parents. A thought struck Sohlberg: if the doctor had indeed telephoned a warning then had the warning only gone to the stepmother and not to the father?
Had the stepmother kept the warning to herself?
If that was the case then why did she not pass the warning on to her husband?
“Herr Haugen . . . before we discuss whether you have actually cooperated with us let me first explain why I’m here since I noticed you did not bother asking me why we’re here.”
Gunnar Haugen said nothing. Instead he assumed the stoic look that everyone in Norway knew from watching Gunnar Haugen’s image on television and newspapers and magazines.
“I have two assignments Herr Haugen. First . . . I’m here to make an arrest.”
Haugen blinked nervously.
“Second . . . I’m here to make sure that we have more than enough evidence to convict.”
“Wait,” said Gunnar Haugen as if waking up from an afternoon nap. “Where’s Nilsen? I thought he was in charge of the case. He knows I cooperated.”
“Nilsen is out. I’m in charge now. All I can tell you is that after carefully reviewing all of the case files . . . I don’t see how you can claim that you’ve cooperated. Quite the opposite.”
“Nilsen knows that we helped as much as we could.”
“Ja . . . you helped yourselves . . . not your son. Anyway . . . as I was saying . . . I reviewed the case files and all of the interviews with you and your wife and I could only come to one conclusion. You and your wife bamboozled Nilsen with lies and half-truths.”
Haugen stared at the table.
“Unfortunately for your son Chief Inspector Nilsen took everything you and your wife said at face value. He questioned nothing. Anyone who hears the interviews or reads the transcripts immediately realizes that you live in a fantasy world or are a lousy liar . . . or both. Nothing that you and your wife have ever said to the police makes any sense.”
Sohlberg expected an indignant outburst or at the very least a protestation of innocence. He got neither from Haugen who remained wrapped in his silent stoic mantle.
“Why didn’t you go into work on the Friday that your son disappeared?”
“Our daughter had been up all night crying. I felt too tired to put in an honest day’s work.”
“And yet you supposedly worked all day on your computer at home from eight in the morning until three in the afternoon.”
Haugen said nothing.
“Whose idea was it for you to stay home that day?”
“I . . . I don’t know. I guess both of us. My wife needed me to stay with the baby while she took Karl to the science fair.”
“Who packed Karl’s lunch for that Friday?”
“I . . . I don’t know.”
“Who usually packed his lunch?”
“Well . . . it depends . . . some days I did . . . others day my wife.”
“So you’re a top up-and-coming manager at Nokia . . . and you’re also going to Business School and yet you have the time to prepare his lunch?”
“I . . . ja.”
“Why doesn’t your wife prepare his lunch all the time?”
Silence.
“Herr Haugen . . . your wife’s unemployed. She has all the time in the world to pack his lunch. She seems to be in very good health. So . . . tell me . . . why doesn’t your wife prepare Karl’s lunch all the time.”
“That’s just the way it is.”
“I see. We just have to take your word for it. Right?”
Silence.
“Can anyone corroborate your claim that you sometimes packed his lunch?”
“I. . . .”
Sohlberg took out a Polaroid picture of Karl’s backpack. The picture was taken by the police at Frøken Bøe’s room on the day of the disappearance. Sohlberg pointed at the picture and said, “Is this your son’s backpack?”
“I think it is. Ja. . . . Maybe.”
“I’ve looked inside that backpack . . . and guess what? There was no lunch in the backpack.”
Silence.
“No lunch . . . that means only one thing Herr Haugen. You or your wife or both of you never expected Karl to be around to eat his lunch at school. That’s why one of you didn’t pack his lunch. That was a major slip-up. Do you care to explain it?”
Silence.
Sohlberg noticed that Gunnar Haugen’s right eye was flickering wildly.
Was Gunnar Haugen trying to figure out what lie to tell about the missing lunch?
“There’s another very odd thing that I found,” said Sohlberg who switched topics to keep Gunnar Haugen off balance. “I read the transcript of your third interview and found something rather unusual.”
Silence.
“You stated that your wife Agnes Haugen is a very good mother. Is that true?”
He nodded.
“Please answer me with words Herr Haugen. The tape recorder can’t pick up your head nodding . . . so I guess for the record that means yes. Anyway . . . you told us that your wife
taught Karl sign language at age six. Ja?”
“Ja.”
“And yet Karl is not deaf . . . his doctor told us that he is a perfectly normal child from a medical and physical point of view.”
“He is.”
“So he’s not deaf?’
Death on Pilot Hill (An Inspector Harald Sohlberg Mystery) Page 19