by Lotte Hammer
The agreement was in the bag, and like a couple of old horse traders they shook hands on it. Simonsen had another question, however, now that he had the chance.
“Tell me one thing: who actually decided I should lead this investigation? I mean, all the stories about the chancellor, they’re not for real, are they?”
Helmer Hammer shook his head, smiling.
“No, I can promise you that they’re not. It’s always amazing what garbage the media can get people to believe.”
“So who was it?”
“It was me.”
“You! Why in the world . . . ?”
“Because you’re capable.”
“Nonsense. Others are too. Did you know I was about to go on holiday?”
“Yes, unfortunately. But I was not aware that you were in poor health, I’m sorry to hear that.”
“Hmm, it’s no worse. But you haven’t answered my question. Why me, and why are you involved in this at all?”
“I’m doing my job, and it wasn’t nonsense when I said you were chosen for your competence.”
“But there are other things behind this too?”
“If there are, it’s not something that involves you or your investigation. You can count on that.”
Helmer Hammer consulted his watch.
“See, what did I say? That took only eight and a half minutes. Now I just need to find my way out.”
He looked around in confusion. The building’s maze of curved corridors, which all looked identical to the untrained eye, had him temporarily at a loss.
“That’s only possible when you’ve worked here a dozen years. I’ll accompany you . . . no, wait a minute, damned if I will. You’re not going to win on every point, that’s not healthy for anyone. It will probably be more beneficial to your mental health for you to wander around in confusion for at least fifteen minutes.”
“Everyone a winner . . . therein lies the politician’s art! Very well, I’ll try and find my own way out. Greetings to your daughter. I hope we meet again soon. And sleep well, Simon.”
CHAPTER 5
While the boss slept, the break in the Homicide Division’s review of the Nygaard and Thomsen murders dragged on. People had a lot to talk about, and besides, Arne Pedersen, who would be continuing the review solo, could use a few extra minutes of preparation. He had stepped aside and was studying the PowerPoint slides in conjunction with Konrad Simonsen’s notes. Pauline Berg went up to him. He glanced up quickly and waved her away.
“Whatever it is, Pauline, it will have to wait.”
She snatched his ballpoint pen.
“Damn it, do you always have to push the boundaries with me? Can’t you understand that I need to run through this? Or maybe you’d like to take over. You do the review while I sit and listen.”
Pauline gave him her sweetest smile. Not without effect.
“You’ll manage,” she told him.
“I’m pleased you have so much confidence in me. Of course I’ll manage . . . if you’d just let me get on with it! Oh, all right then,” he sighed. “What is it? Are you spooked because you resemble the two murdered girls? There’s nothing I can do about that, although I understand perfectly well why you reacted as you did once you’d noticed it.”
“It’s creepy all right, but I’m blue-eyed not brown-, and my hair colour doesn’t match either. I just felt a little uncomfortable when it occurred to me. Everyone was looking at me, without saying anything.”
“No one was looking at you. What is it you want?”
“That thing on the screen, what is it?”
Pedersen looked up and saw that Malte Borup had the starting image ready: a photograph of a peculiar building that resembled a drilling platform about to swallow a giant egg. He suppressed his irritation.
“That’s DYE-5, as you can read below.”
“But it wasn’t that big surely.”
“Not that big? I’d say it was! The building stood on eight gigantic pillars and was six storeys high. The dome on top was the radar installation, covered in plastic, that’s why it’s white. If you look at the woman you can see in front of the far-left pillar, you get an impression of how big it was in reality. It was a tough job to build out there, when you think that every piece of kit had to be transported by air. ‘Eyes of Freedom’ is what the Americans called their radar stations.”
Pauline waved away the information, as if swatting a fly. Pedersen continued undaunted.
“The whole building can be raised if there is more snow and ice. That makes the design many times more—”
She interrupted him, irritated.
“I don’t care about pillars and storeys, where’s the rest of it?”
“If you wait another two minutes, I’ll go through everything in detail. You will also have the opportunity to see a lot of pictures taken inside the building.”
“But is it just that one, Arne? I mean, what about other radar stations?”
“That one was out on its own on the ice cap, though there were four other DYE stations.”
“But they were far away, weren’t they?”
“Yes, they were, that was the whole idea, they were supposed to form a chain, although DYE-5 wasn’t quite . . . ”
“Damn! Then it doesn’t fit.”
“What can’t you get to fit?” he asked patiently.
Pauline hoped one day to be the one to solve a major case. Once she had found an important hard drive that no one else could locate, and still enjoyed thinking about that, but otherwise she did not have much to brag about. She knew that she was naive and romanticised things, so she kept her daydreams to herself, apart from a single occasion when she happened to say too much to Pedersen in particular . . . and maybe another time to the Countess . . . and possibly on a few other occasions too, but those were surely forgotten, and if her latest hypothesis was correct . . .well, she almost didn’t dare complete the thought. She was bubbling with enthusiasm and did not let herself be deterred by Pedersen’s admonition, when he sensed what she was thinking.
“Always bear in mind that investigation is teamwork.”
“Obviously it’s teamwork, but there is something I have to check out, so you’ll have to manage without me for an hour or two.”
Pedersen grabbed her by the wrist as she turned to go.
“Ouch, that hurts!”
“Nonsense, it doesn’t hurt at all.”
“The rest of you occasionally follow up an idea that’s too exciting to leave alone. For once I’m going to do the same thing. I’ve been here a while, after all.”
“We don’t keep information to ourselves. That’s a cardinal sin in any investigation.”
“Can’t you give me a little leeway, just today? I promise to call you no later than eight o’clock unless . . . You can come over too if you have time. So you can see my new house and maybe help me put my curtain rails up.”
“Your boyfriend can do that.”
“He can’t because he’s history.”
Pedersen was sincerely amazed. Mostly because Pauline hadn’t said anything about a break-up, although on the other hand she did not need to report on her personal life to him.
“But didn’t you just buy a house together?”
“He was a little too close to one of his fellow students. So close that he’s going to be a father soon, the jerk.”
“What about finances? Can you afford to stay there yourself?”
“The Countess is helping me get a loan, and I’ll have to teach a couple of dance classes at night school, but then it should all work out. Okay, will I see you or what?”
Pedersen let go of her wrist without answering. Instead he stood up and called out to his restless colleagues, “Sorry, but it will be another five minutes.”
Then he commanded Pauline, “Sit down.”
She obeyed him reluctantly. He too sat down.
“You saw those girls up there yourself, and under no circumstances do you have permission to go snooping around on your o
wn without letting anyone know what you’re doing. This is not open to discussion, so either you tell me what you’re up to or you stay here where I can see you.”
“Okay, but remember now, this is my idea.”
“What is?”
“Try looking at the coordinates under the picture.”
“I’m looking, what about them?”
“They don’t fit the scene of the crime. If it’s not an identical error that is repeated in three places, then that DYE building was simply not located where Maryann Nygaard was found.”
Pedersen observed Pauline with equal parts distrust and excitement.
“Do continue.”
“I noticed it because the coordinates where Maryann Nygaard was buried correspond to my cell phone number . . . apart from the seconds obviously. So listen, DYE-5 was located at 68°47’02” North and 45°14’03” West, as you can see, but Maryann Nygaard was buried at 68°37’02” North and 45°41’03” West—that’s shown by the very first report from the chancellor’s helicopter to the control tower at Ilulissat Airport and corresponds to the technicians’ GPS measurements. So at first I thought such a DYE installation was pretty big, that is in terms of area, but that’s evidently not the case, and I think . . . well, I’m no expert in spherical geometry, but I’ve gone to school, and a north-south minute is equal to two kilometres, and an east-west minute is one kilometre in Denmark. So don’t you see, Arne?”
“No, don’t see a thing, you’ve lost me completely.”
“Well, despite the fact that the east-west distance decreases the farther away from the equator you get, Disco Bay is not so far north that you can make it fit at all, if you calculate using Pythagoras, even though it is curved and may fudge a little . . . ”
Pauline was getting carried away. A couple of colleagues turned round to look at her, which immediately made her settle down.
“There is at least fifteen kilometres’ difference between the scene where the body was found and the location of DYE-5, probably a bit more. Even you must realise that?”
Pedersen did not calculate, he had given up on that; instead he looked Pauline in the eyes.
“Are you certain?”
“Yes, I am. Where would it be wrong?”
He turned his head and stared up at the screen for a long time while he recalled standing out on the ice cap. Pauline Berg stayed silent in the meantime.
“Fifteen kilometres, you say?”
“At least.”
“The helicopter pilot?”
“Exactly.”
It was a piece of information that had to be digested. Most likely her mathematical calculations were off somewhere, and that would be the end of that. On the other hand it would explain why the Greenlanders had not found any trace of DYE-5. Even if the American Army according to Trond Egede could be particularly efficient, it hardly seemed probable that such a large building could be removed without trace. Besides, it was not unheard of for an investigation to founder on a simple confusion like this. He said cautiously, “What do you want to do now?”
“Jump up on my perch and work with the coordinates. There must be a distance formula somewhere on the Internet, or maybe Google Earth can help me. And if that all goes haywire, I know someone who can do such a calculation, though I don’t have any desire to contact him.”
“Start by going into my office and finding the card from Nuuk police on my bulletin board; then call the number on the back, get hold of Trond Egede, and tell him what you’ve explained to me. But be a bit careful how you phrase the coordinates error . . . if it is an error, that is. Ask him to call back when he has clarified whether your hypothesis holds water. You don’t need to underscore its potential importance, he’ll see that for himself. While you’re waiting, you can make your own calculations.”
“If it turns out to be correct, I would really like to go out and speak with the nurse that Simon has on his list of witnesses,” Pauline said eagerly.
Pedersen considered that.
“Okay, but stick your head in and inform me first. And take the Countess along, and tell her what you’ve figured out.”
“Fine, but I would also like to speak with one of those who worked at—”
Pedersen’s interruption was sharp.
“Absolutely not alone! You are forbidden to do that. Period. Or . . . wait a moment.”
He leafed through his papers and found what he was looking for.
“Give me my pen.”
She obeyed.
“Look at this. You can talk to him, and only him, none of the others. He is in a wheelchair and has been since 1992. You can figure out for yourself what that means. You’re capable, Pauline. The day you also become a profession—”
She put her hand over his mouth.
“If I find out the killer’s name, I want to be able to announce it myself. That is, only to the inner circle.”
“That’s OK with me.”
“Do you think I’m vain?”
“Yes.”
“The Countess says so too, but she laughs at it. I’m sure you think I’m a terrible person.”
“You know perfectly well that I don’t, Pauline.”
“So are you going to come and help me with my curtain rails?”
She hurried out of the room without waiting for an answer.
Less than twenty minutes later she was back and giving him the thumbs up before closing the door to the lecture room. At that point Pedersen was in the middle of his review, major portions of which seemed suddenly irrelevant. The Countess got up from her seat and left the room. Pedersen was thinking about what he should say to his wife to explain his absence tonight.
The two women went over to the Countess’s office. Pauline Berg started talking immediately they came in, but not about the coordinates error. She said, “Simon managed that really nicely.”
The Countess answered a little abruptly, “Well, what else did you expect?”
“Nothing, except that it would work out, but there was a lot of talk that it might be difficult for him. I mean, with the father and all that.”
“What have you discovered, Pauline? Arne said that maybe it was important. I’m a little annoyed about not hearing his review. Tell me now, why are we sitting here?”
Pauline told her. This time she was better prepared, and the Countess understood her immediately. The reaction came promptly and echoed Pedersen’s.
“The helicopter pilot?”
“That’s a good suggestion.”
The Countess also sat a while and processed the new information in her mind. Then she asked carefully, “And the Greenlandic police have confirmed that the location of the radar station is wrong?”
“Yes, they have. Trond Egede is the name of our contact. He was the one who was with Arne and Simon on the ice. He called five minutes ago and confirmed it. He also apologised. It annoyed him no end that he hadn’t discovered the error himself. Yes, he said that, it’s a direct quote.”
The Countess nodded, as if she echoed Trond Egede’s annoyance. Then her face lit up in a big smile and she said, “Nice work, Pauline. We could have wasted days on that. You’ve earned your pay today.”
Pauline was blushing with pride.
“Thanks. Arne promised me that I can go out and talk to a witness who knew those DYEs. Although he wasn’t too excited about it.”
“Phooey, just get going. But that witness list of DYE employees—it’s not a good idea for you to visit any of the men alone. Or . . . no, I really want to be clear about this. Helicopter pilot or not, you stay away from them. Is that agreed?”
“It’s agreed, I’ll stay away from them. Arne said that too.”
“Good, because it’s only sensible. You can take my car if you want.”
The Countess watched Pauline leave, feeling a stab of envy. Not because her colleague had discovered something that no one else had, the Countess did not begrudge her that, but at her bubbling enthusiasm and the pride she took in standing out. This was part of
being young and would fade in time, even for Pauline Berg. Sooner or later you admitted to yourself that the current, crucial case was not so crucial after all. A new one was always waiting around the corner, and another one, and the next. That insight gradually made investigation a job more than a lifestyle. In the long run you became more efficient but decidedly less enthusiastic. The excitement of the job, which could only be experienced by those who were still green, was gone for good. The Countess thought it was probably the same in many other occupations.
Then suddenly she had an unpleasant recollection of someone rather like Pauline. The Countess’s ex-husband’s new secretary had also been ambitious in her time. Erna with the Elbows, that’s what they’d called her in the beginning, the two of them, both the Countess and her husband. She corrected herself: ex-husband. And noted at the same time the hateful vacuum in the pit of her stomach, which she had felt every single day for over a year after the divorce, and which still yawned inside her from time to time. With undiminished force, too.
Now Erna had just had her second child with the Countess’s husband . . . her ex-husband. They’d kept the first one secret for months, until the Countess had her suspicions and hired a private detective to follow him. The break-up was irreconcilable and hard on her. So now I’m free to wake up every morning with a woman whose only goal for the day is to be perfect. Those were his parting words, before he betrayed the Countess totally and disappeared from her life. To his new family.
She sighed and tried to dismiss the negative thoughts, knowing full well that they would last for at least a couple of days and in her paranoia she would live in fear of running into the pair of them by chance on the street. It was usually like that. On the other hand it helped a little to think that she still received photographs every month or so from the private detective. Just to help her keep up a little and at the same time feel in control. He had orders to take his photos openly, so as to cause maximum embarrassment to them. It helped to think about that too.
CHAPTER 6