The Dinosaur Feather

by S. J. Gazan

  Søren pushed through the crowd. The man he had seen on the poster outside Magasin was sitting on a bench. He must be Troels. Søren was astonished. Troels was pulling and yanking his left arm, which was tied to the back of the bench. His wrist was bleeding, and he snorted like a wild animal.

  “Sit still,” Søren ordered him. Troels refused.

  “Sit! Still!” Søren thundered.

  Troels turned his head and sent Søren a furious stare. His eyes were bloodshot. Then, with all the strength he could muster, he kicked Søren’s shin with his boot. Søren hobbled out of the way and let his colleagues take over.

  “Now calm down,” one of them said. The other cut the cable ties and handcuffed Troels.

  “What’s your name, apart from Troels?” Søren said, amicably, limping closer.

  “Not fucking telling you, pig.” Troels scowled.

  “Where is Anna?” Søren asked him instead. Troels’s eyes flashed.

  “I’ll kill her when I see her.”

  “Of course you will,” Søren said, humoring him. “It’s 3:22 p.m. and I’m arresting you and charging you with… assaulting a police officer.” Søren was aware that his colleagues were looking at him, but he ignored them. In a few hours, when he had more information, he would charge Troels with Johannes’s murder.

  “You do not have to say anything, but it may harm your defense if you do not mention when questioned something that you may later rely on in court. Anything you do say may be given in evidence,” he added. The light in Troels’s eyes changed; he opened and closed his mouth, then he accepted the situation. “Take him to the station,” Søren ordered his colleagues. “I’ll follow shortly.”

  Søren went through the museum, but Anna was nowhere to be found. He called her several times with only a minute’s interval, but she didn’t reply. Finally, he left a message telling her he wasn’t prepared to run around the museum looking for her and expected her to call him as soon as possible. He thanked her for making a citizen’s arrest and requested a proper explanation. As soon as possible, he emphasized.

  At five thirty Søren still hadn’t heard from Anna. He sat in his office debating his options. He had spent two hours trying to get Troels to tell him his surname. Troels refused. In the end, Søren had telephoned Stella Marie Frederiksen. She was visiting friends, but agreed to take a taxi to the police station. She spent fifteen minutes there, looked at Troels through a one-way mirror and confirmed that it was him. No doubt about it. She also provided Søren with a guest list for the Red Mask on September 7. Troels’s full name would be on it. Søren scanned it but was none the wiser. There were two guests by the name of Troels. One called Vedsegaard, the other Nielsen. He scratched his head and looked at the clock.

  Tick tock.

  He ate a sandwich.

  He wrote a report.

  He stared out into the darkness, but couldn’t see past his own reflection.

  When Anna finally returned his call, his nerves were twitching.

  “Where are you?” he practically shouted when she said her name.

  “At home now,” she said, calmly. Søren relaxed.

  “It’s Vedsegaard,” Anna confirmed, glumly, in response to Søren’s question. “He was my best friend… when I was little. I promise to explain it all another time. I’m sorry for running off.”

  Søren underlined the name Troels Vedsegaard.

  “He confessed,” Anna said.

  “I assumed so, since you arrested him.” Søren couldn’t help smiling. “You need to be at the station tomorrow morning at ten.” A pause followed.

  “I have something else for you,” she said.

  “Aha?”

  “I know who infected Professor Helland with Taenia solium.”

  Total silence now.

  “Are you there?” Anna said.

  “What did you say?”

  “I know who infected Lars Helland.”

  “Who?”

  “His name is Asger Moritzen. He is Lars Helland and Hanne Moritzen’s son. His address is 12 Glasvej, northwest Copenhagen. Dr. Tybjerg revealed the link. He has been friends with Asger since they were undergraduates. Asger used to work at the university, but was laid off when his department was closed. Dr. Tybjerg told me Asger had no idea that Professor Helland was his father. Tybjerg discovered it by chance and was blackmailing Helland with the knowledge. When Asger finally found out, he became very odd and distant. Tybjerg said they’re not friends anymore.”

  Søren tried to break all this information into bite-size pieces.

  “Go on,” he said, brusquely.

  “I spent almost two hours with Professor Moritzen today. That’s why I couldn’t wait for you and I didn’t answer my cell. I had to see her. Hanne is my friend, and she lied. She has a son! I was really angry when I got there, but she… she told me everything. She has known all weekend that Asger killed Helland. She wanted to go to the police, but… mothers and their children,” Anna suddenly burst out. “Mothers will do anything to protect their children.”

  Søren was about to say something when she continued.

  “I promised Hanne you’ll take good care of him when you pick him up. Asger’s mentally frail, but not dangerous, she assured me. I think he’s mostly scared.”

  Søren swallowed.

  “So you know where Dr. Tybjerg is?” he said.

  “Yes,” Anna said. “I’ve known all the time. Sorry.”

  “Why didn’t you tell me?” Søren said, angrily.

  “Dr. Tybjerg is on the verge of a breakdown, so I couldn’t run the risk. I want to have my dissertation defense next Monday. I have to get it over and done with. I have a three-year-old daughter. I have to become her mother again.”

  “So where is he?” Søren said, appeased.

  “I’ll tell you later.” Anna’s voice was calm. “Tomorrow. But I can’t be with you at ten. There’s something I have to do first. I’ll be there at one. And now I’ve got to go.”

  “Anna, I demand to know where Dr. Tybjerg is!”

  “Trust me.”

  And she was gone.

  Søren sat at his desk, staring at the telephone.

  Søren went to visit Professor Moritzen.

  “Come in,” she said, hoarsely, buzzing him in. She was wearing a soft gray outfit and was waiting for him in the doorway when he came up the stairs. Her hair was wet as though she had just had a shower.

  They sat down in the living room. Like her vacation cottage, her apartment was carefully furnished, limited to bamboo and white, broken only by splashes of bright red and orange. Professor Moritzen perched on the edge of the sofa and waited for Søren to begin.

  “I’m here because Anna Bella Nor called me an hour ago and told me—”

  “I asked her to call you,” Professor Moritzen interrupted him.

  “So you suspect your son, Asger Moritzen, infected Professor Helland with parasites?” he said.

  She nodded.

  “And the late Lars Helland was your son’s biological father?”

  She nodded again.

  “Why do you think your son infected his father with parasites?” Søren wondered if Professor Moritzen was mentally ill. Did she even have a son or was she making it all up?

  “Asger told me last Thursday,” she said. “He was very scared, but he felt better after telling me. When will you be picking him up?” She looked beseechingly at Søren. “Asger is very delicate. You can’t just barge in on him. You need to go there, alone, and talk to him. You won’t just barge in, will you?” she repeated. “He has dangerous bugs and reptiles in there,” she added.

  “In his apartment?” Søren frowned.

  “Yes, he has tanks full of them,” she replied. “So, are you going to get him?”

  “When did you last speak with him?”

  “Perhaps you could just let me tell you the whole story,” she said.

  Chapter 18

  “Asger’s a good boy,” she said and didn’t seem to have heard his q
uestion. “Please don’t hurt him. He didn’t mean to kill Lars…. The silly boy thought he had given his father a tapeworm. A tapeworm! He just wanted to annoy him a little, but he didn’t mean to kill him, of course he didn’t. But you don’t get a tapeworm from eating a piece of one! And you don’t get a tapeworm infection from eating its eggs, either! Stupid boy.” Her voice became shrill. “I’m a parasitologist, and my own son commits such a howler. And he’s a biologist, too.” Professor Moritzen looked mortified.

  “At least you know where the 2,600 cysticerci came from,” she added, dryly. “From my silly boy. Of course, I wondered how Asger got ahold of the material, and I’ve discovered that…. There was one weekend in May when my keys went missing and I had to use my spare set. My keys reappeared and I thought nothing of it. Asger had let himself into my lab and took the tapeworm from the in-vitro supply. I honestly believed I knew precisely how many specimens I have. After all, I count them. But he had only taken one and when I checked, it seemed to add up to me.” She gestured apologetically. “I have samples in cold storage, for dissection, and I have living specimens, which are kept in artificial conditions, like the ones found in the small intestines. At least he had been smart enough to take a living specimen, but his knowledge stopped there,” she said bitterly. “That Monday he went to the department of Cell Biology and Comparative Zoology to have lunch with Professor Ewald in her office across from the senior common room. They know each other from a project when Asger was still an undergraduate. At some point, Asger went to fetch some salt, and while he was in the senior common room he opened the fridge and placed the tapeworm segment in Lars’s lunch.”

  “How did he know the food belonged to Lars Helland?” Søren interjected.

  Professor Moritzen sighed.

  “The stupid idiot had planned it all down to the last detail. He had gone to the senior common room twice the previous week. On both occasions, he had found an empty cool bag with the initials L.H. and once when Asger passed the senior common room, he had seen Lars eat leftovers from it. He was very careful. He certainly didn’t want to infect Professor Jørgensen or Professor Ewald. Asger was angry. I told him Lars Helland was his father shortly after I was told I would be laid off. I had always told Asger he was the result of a one-night stand and that I knew nothing about his father. But I was in love with Lars and got pregnant by him during my second year as an undergraduate. Lars was already married to Birgit, and he was shocked when I confronted him. He told me he didn’t believe the child was his. But I knew it was. We reached an impasse and people started talking. Someone had seen us together, and now I was pregnant. Lars got completely paranoid and offered me money. He would have been fired on the spot had it become known that he had got an undergraduate pregnant. I accepted his offer. I moved to Århus and had Asger. Lars bought us an apartment on the condition that I signed a document stating he wasn’t Asger’s father. I listed my son’s father as ‘unknown,’ and, to be honest, I forgot all about him. I was twenty years old, I lived in Århus, and was busy with my studies and my little boy. I met other men. Do you want some tea?”

  Søren nodded and Professor Moritzen disappeared into the kitchen. Shortly afterward, she returned with a small bowl with steaming contents, which she handed to Søren. She sat down on the sofa and blew carefully into her own bowl.

  “After all those years why did you decide to tell Asger that Professor Helland was his father?”

  Professor Moritzen heaved another sigh.

  “Asger grew up without a father, but it was never a problem. When he turned nineteen, he decided he wanted to study biology. To begin with, I was dead set against it. An academic career isn’t for the faint of heart. It’s one long uphill struggle. For money, for recognition, for elbow room. I genuinely doubted if Asger was cut out for it. He’s a loner, wary and ultra-sensitive. But he was adamant. He had followed my work his whole life, and when he wanted a butterfly net for Christmas and an aquarium for his birthday that’s what he got. I don’t know why I expected anything else.” She shook her head. “In 1998 I applied for the post of professor of parasitology at the University of Copenhagen, never thinking for one minute I would get it. But halfway through the summer break, I got a phone call. The job was mine. Less than a week later Asger got a letter. He was offered a place to read biology at the University of Copenhagen. That summer we moved. I sold the apartment in Århus and bought two apartments with the money; this one and the one Asger lives in, on Glasvej.

  “Asger began his studies and the same week, I spotted Lars. Of course, it had crossed my mind he might still be working there, and yet I was genuinely shocked. It was nineteen years since we had last met, and there had been no contact in between. It was almost four months before we met. Odd, really, given his office was only two floors above mine. It happened just before Christmas. The strange thing was that he appeared pleased to see me. He ran up to me from behind, twirled me around, and kept saying how marvelous it was. He had no idea what had become of me, if I had even graduated. Oh yes, I replied. From the University of Århus. He never mentioned our son, as though he had truly wiped from his memory that he had gotten me pregnant. At that moment, Asger appeared and Lars shook his hand.

  “‘This is Asger, my son,’ I said. ‘He’s in his first year.’ I stared at Lars, but his face gave nothing away. He simply pressed Asger’s hand and welcomed him.

  “Professionally, I got very busy. The field of parasitology was growing rapidly due to a government increase in foreign aid. The focus of public attention turned to bilharziasis, and I was made responsible for three huge research projects, two of which took place in Central Africa. Asger was happy. He cruised through his studies. I was pleased for him, but also rather concerned. He had no friends, and he never went out. It was all about studying and preparing for the next exam, and when he finally had time off he would tinker with his growing number of tanks, attend conferences, read, or collect insects. I tried encouraging him, but every time he smiled his silly smile. “People don’t interest me, Mom,” he said. “I’m a scientist like you.” What troubled me the most was that he always said it with an element of complicity, as though he and I were the same. I didn’t want to be someone with no friends because my work took up all my time. But the truth was this was precisely who I was.

  “One day, Asger finally made a friend. Erik Tybjerg, Anna’s external supervisor, would you believe it? Yes, you’re thinking we’re all as thick as thieves, and I suppose you’re right.” She laughed briefly. “Asger was writing his dissertation, and the two boys spent a lot of time together. Their friendship revolved around science, but all the same, it looked like a genuine friendship. Asger remained strangely content in the way he always was. Nothing upset him. If it hadn’t been for all those As he got, I would have started thinking there was something wrong with him.” She smiled. “But he’s bright and knows everything about natural history. He knows practically nothing about anything else. I consoled myself that at least he seemed happy.” She sighed, deeply, once more.

  “One day I dropped by unannounced. I knew he was recovering from flu, I had bought some cakes and I wanted to surprise him. As I walked down the street, I tried to recall when I last visited him. One thing was for sure: it was too long ago, and in that moment, I felt so bad for not visiting him more often. Asger used to tease me and say ‘My biologist mom is scared of bugs’—he thought it was hilarious. Of course I wasn’t. But I didn’t like them or what they represented.”

  “Which was?” Søren probed.

  “Only nerds have tanks,” Hanne said, bluntly. “You don’t live with snakes and scorpions!” she scoffed. “I don’t share my home with the parasites I work with, do I?”

  Søren glanced around the austere apartment and suddenly he couldn’t decide which was worse: bugs or loneliness?

  “And every time I was confronted with that side of my son, I felt guilty. I desperately wanted him to have friends. Other young men he could go out with, run a half-marathon with, whatev
er, what do I know? And I wanted him to have a girlfriend. Live with her, so I could visit them on Sundays, and he could start a family one day. But if he managed to persuade a girl to come home with him, she would surely leave the moment she saw all his bugs and reptiles. At the time, I knew he kept a small nonpoisonous snake, four bird spiders, and some mysterious-looking, over-dimensioned stick insects. I made no attempt to disguise my disgust, but Asger merely laughed and said that was why children left home. I stopped bringing it up; we met mostly in my apartment and that’s why so much time had passed.

  “He was delighted to see me. He was wearing his dressing gown over his pajamas, his hair was tousled, and he was grinning from ear to ear. Everything was fine. I entered the hall and took off my coat. The air was stuffy, but that was understandable. He had been ill for three or four days. It was also a little dark, but I presumed he had just been asleep.

  “Asger took my coat, put it on a hanger, and opened a built-in closet to put it away, when something fell out and hit his head. It was a bundle held together with string, and it appeared to contain clothing and shoes. Asger asked me to hold the hanger while he struggled to push the bundle back in the cupboard. When he managed to close it, he hung my jacket on a door handle instead and went to the kitchen to put the kettle on. I stayed in the hall and called out to ask him why it was so dark, but the water was running and if he replied, I didn’t hear him. I switched on the hall light, and as the door to his bedroom was wide open, I entered and turned on the light.

  “It took five seconds before I realized what I was looking at. He had three tanks. I was almost relieved, three isn’t excessive and, at first glance, they appeared to be empty. Then the shock came: there were bundles of clothes everywhere. The first bundle had merely seemed strange, but this obsession with bundles worried me.” Professor Moritzen looked hesitantly at Søren. He forgot to drink his tea. “His comforter, his pillow, and sheets were rolled into a bundle on his bed, and the bundle was held together with,” she gulped, “the cord from my dressing gown I had been looking for for ages. Along the wall facing the street were another three bundles, one with books, two apparently stuffed with Asger’s clothes—one was slightly open and over the buckle of a belt I could see the pair of expensive Fjällräven trousers I had given him for Christmas. Shoved under the bed was a bundle with what looked like a bathroom scale I had given him, and on a small desk in the corner, to the right of the window, was a bundle that appeared to contain an open laptop and next to it, smaller bundles. I was staring at them when I suddenly became convinced there was someone behind me. I could hear Asger whistle in the kitchen, hear cups clattering, so I knew it wasn’t him. I spun around and, on the wall in front of me, Asger had mounted three shelves, as wide as floorboards, and they were filled with jars of insects in ethanol, small tanks with live bugs, Styrofoam sheets with skewered insects and butterflies, and numerous reference books on the anatomy and physiology of insects.