Euphoria would not even come close to describing Sohlberg’s bliss. He realized that Berge had been keeping track of Jakob Gansum—and probably Sohlberg’s own visits to the insane asylum—through the orderly Rolf Vika and perhaps other employees of the Dove Center.
Why else would Kasper Berge have phone contact with someone who worked at the insane asylum where Berge had locked up Jakob Gansum?
And . . . where there’s a Berge there’s a Holm . . . Liv Holm.
Giddy with an overpowering joy Sohlberg felt like kissing Kristina Skrautvol on the lips even if that meant getting a slap and an official reprimanded if not a second degree burn by her dangling and lit cigarette.
“Now,” continued Inspector Skrautvol, “why would a lowly orderly like Rolf Vika have the phone number for a wealthy and powerful politician?”
“Well . . . I have a tip for you . . . have you contacted Berge?”
“No. Not yet. I need much more information about Berge’s relationship to Vika before I drop in on a former prosecutor who’s now a big shot in politics.”
“Inspector Skrautvol . . . I think I might have the information you need.”
“Really? . . . How so?”
“Take a look at the phone numbers that called Berge and that Berge called.”
“Done. I already asked his phone company to give me that information for the past ninety days.”
“I predict that you will see a London number in England.”
“I already saw one that he called a lot during the past two weeks.”
“Inspector Skrautvol . . . I predict that London phone number belongs to Liv Holm.”
“The woman you arrested for looting the Eide estate?”
“Yes. . . . Let me explain. . . . Kasper Berge is tied to Liv Holm who is tied to the real Ludvik Helland who was just arrested in London. I suggest you go interview Berge today . . . as soon as you’re done here . . . ask him to explain his relationship with Liv Holm and the real Ludvik Helland.”
~ ~ ~
The always skeptical Inspector Skrautvol only left the hospital after thoroughly interrogating Sohlberg for almost an hour.
Alone and cold and hungry in the conference room Sohlberg reluctantly realized that the time had come to make the telephone call that he dreaded. He remembered the other awful calls that he had made in his career. The thought of one more call made him sick. But a phone call was better than an in-person visit and this call was—for the time being—not about the death of Astrid’s father but about his grievous stabbing. In normal situations he would have personally delivered the news. But Astrid Isaksen was too far away and he had too much to do.
An exhausted Sohlberg toyed with his police-issued cell phone for a long time before he dialed the Hovdestøylen Hotel and Lodge in Hovden. After three clerks and two assistant managers he got through to Astrid Isaksen.
“Frøken Isasksen? . . .”
”Yes. Who is this?”
“I’m Chief Inspector Sohlberg . . . the detective you met . . . you told me you wanted justice.”
“What’s wrong?”
He was surprised at her intuition but he shouldn’t have been because his voice had trembled when he identified himself.
“Your father . . . he’s been hurt. You need to come up to Oslo as soon as possible.”
A stifled cry. The shuffle of the phone being passed around. The mumbling of words. Astrid’s aunt on the line. Sohlberg’s short and then long explanation. The sudden hang-up.
Sohlberg then did what he had almost forgotten to do. He did what he seldom did and only did when in dire straits. He stopped to pray.
The girl needs her father. Please.
~ ~ ~
At 7:10 P.M.—after nine hours of surgery—one of the surgeons came out to the waiting room. Jorfald snored deeply while Dr. Nansen avidly read an enormous tome with the ponderous title Carl Jung and The Origins of Synchronicity.
“Are any of you family of Jakob Gansum?”
Sohlberg stood up and said, “They’re his doctors. I’m Chief Inspector Sohlberg.”
“Is his family here?”
“No. But they’re on the way. Is he going to make it?”
“It’s a close call. But he should pull through.”
~ ~ ~
After the surgeon left them alone Sohlberg avoided Nansen and Jorfald. The two psychiatrists departed soon afterwards with dejected airs and hunched shoulders. Sohlberg locked himself in the conference room and worked his phone furiously. He called Skrautvol and Thorsen with the same message:
“Please come to the hospital . . . meet me upstairs at the waiting room to the left of the surgery department. I need to set the record straight before the Zoo’s masters at the Ministry of Justice try to re-write history.”
As soon as the two detectives agreed to come over Sohlberg called his favorite reporters. He asked them to gather at the downstairs main lobby within the hour. He had little time to lose because by tomorrow the top brass at the Ministry of Justice and the Police would take over all media relations and do their best to minimize and spin and whitewash and bury the stinking mess that their predecessors had made of the Janne Eide case.
Skrautvol and Thorsen arrived by a back door at 8 P.M. Both expressed their reservations of holding a press conference without the prior permission of the Zoo’s top administrators.
“This is not a press conference,” said Sohlberg. “You will say nothing at all to the media. I will just be providing spontaneous answers to the media as all of us leave the hospital together. Keep in mind that the media will simply not believe me if I only said ‘No comment’ at this time. It would be more suspicious. Just let me do all the talking. Don’t say anything. If it goes badly then I’ll be the only one responsible.”
Lights flashed. Cameras and microphones flew towards Sohlberg when he and the two detectives burst out of the elevator door and walked down the media phalanx. Reporters spoke over each other. Sohlberg could barely make out their questions. He stopped walking and with Skrautvol and Thorsen squarely behind him Sohlberg took advantage of the cacophony to answer the questions that he wanted asked—an old trick that he learned from his mentor Lars Eliassen.
“Well . . . I can only tell you at this point that the real Ludvik Helland . . . the long-suspected killer of Janne Eide . . . was arrested in London. . . .
“Who was arrested and held in his place? . . . An innocent man . . . Jakob Gansum. . . .
“No. It’s not for me to comment if police incompetence is responsible for this horrible injustice . . . but I can tell you at this point that we have evidence that Ludvik Helland and the trustee of the Eide fortune . . . the lawyer Liv Holm . . . are responsible for framing Jakob Gansum. . . . They set him up to be a substitute for Ludvik Helland.
“What did you say? . . . Who is responsible for solving this case . . . and righting this injustice?
“Well . . . I think we’d have to . . . in part . . . thank Chief Inspector Ivar Thorsen. He saved and preserved old documents and other evidence in the Janne Eide case files . . . these documents and evidence will be crucial in proving that Liv Holm and Ludvik Helland and Kasper Berge conspired to frame Jakob Gansum in the murder of Janne Eide.
“Last but not least we have to thank Chief Inspector Kristina Skrautvol . . . excuse me . . . I meant to say Inspector Kristina Skrautvol . . . but I’m sure she will soon be a Chief Inspector. Anyway . . . her hard-work and dedication already led to the arrest of the man suspected of helping Håkon Krogvig escape from the criminally insane ward of Dove Center. . . . Yes . . . Krogvig is a suspected serail killer . . . but . . . most important . . . as part of her investigation into Krogvig’s escape Inspector Skrautvol found the telephone calls that tie Liv Holm and Ludvik Helland and Kasper Berge together in their conspiracy to loot the Eide fortune.
“What about Kasper Berge? . . . I don’t know what’s going to happen to him. I understand that Chief Inspector Thorsen and Chief Inspector Kristina Skrautvol . . . sorry . . . th
ere I go again . . . I mean Inspector Kristina Skrautvol . . . are both investigating Berge’s role in the Janne Eide murder . . . and the unjust situation with Jakob Gansum . . . and the looting of the Eide trusts and foundations.
“Will this destroy Kasper Berge’s political career? . . .
“I don’t know.
“Will it ruin his chances of one day becoming Prime Minister?
“I don’t know. You’d have to ask him or someone who knows about those things.
“Jakob Gansum?
“He’s expected to recover. I also believe that as soon as he leaves the hospital he will be released immediately from the Dove Center and exonerated.”
Sohlberg was about to say more when he saw Astrid Isaksen. She had been hearing him in the crowd with her aunt. She ran up to Sohlberg and hugged him and said:
“Thank you. . . . You gave me the best Christmas gift ever . . . my Daddy!”
Chapter 17/Sytten
THE KNOWN AND THE UNKNOWN
“Honey . . . you have a package!”
The packages started arriving every week in the mail at Sohlberg’s home just two days after the hospital released Jakob Gansum to freedom and his daughter. He looked up the return address which later turned out to be an empty lot in Stavanger.
Well . . . what have we here.
With a quick look-over Sohlberg could tell that the sheaves of papers were copies of ledgers and bank statements of foreign entities that the Norwegian police and prosecutors would never be able to obtain but for the secret and anonymous source. Even more interesting was the fact that the initials KB appeared here and there throughout the documents next to certain transactions.
KB . . . Kasper Berge . . . well . . . well . . . someone doesn’t like the former prosecutor.
After a few minutes Sohlberg realized that the documents recorded the flow of money from Eide trusts and foundations to Kasper Berge or entities controlled by Kasper Berge. These entities included for-profit companies and political groups.
During the next six months Emma Sohlberg was frequently heard to say:
“Honey . . . you have another of your packages!”
The final package arrived around the time that Kristina Skrautvol became a Chief Inspector. Sohlberg had of course turned over all of the packages and their contents to the crime laboratory for fingerprinting and DNA testing and a ton of other tests. The lab found not one single fingerprint or drop of DNA—the invisible mark of a true expert.
A disgraced Kasper Berge resigned from all of his political party positions one day before his trial began on multiple counts of fraud and theft for stealing $ 90 million dollars from the Eide trusts and foundations. The same judge that convicted Liv Holm and Ludvik Helland for looting the Eide fortune also convicted Berge on all fraud and theft counts. Before passing sentence the judge said:
“I wish that I could sentence you to more time in prison Herr Berge. Your betrayal of everyone’s trust is inexcusable . . . your thievery is but a symptom of an unbalanced lust for power.”
Berge received a sentence of 20 years. In exchange for sharply reduced sentences Holm and Helland testified at a separate criminal trial that Kasper Berge had conspired with them to murder Janne Eide and substitute Jakob Gansum for Ludvik Helland. Inexplicably the court found Berge not guilty in that second trial. Sohlberg was disgusted but not surprised. The vast majority of judges are biased in favor of prosecutors—no matter how corrupt or disgraced the prosecutor.
Liv Holm and Ludvik Helland left prison after serving less than three years. A day after the criminal duo’s release Sohlberg received a telephone call. He did not recognized the phone number. But he soon perceived the voice of Liv Holm. He could literally see her sneer with the curled red slash of her cruel thin lips.
“Idiot. What do you think you really accomplished? . . . Tell me Idiot. . . . Now Ludvik and me . . . we’re going back to England . . . and then on to St. Bart’s to enjoy our twenty-nine million pounds . . . yes that much Idiot.
“Did you hear me? . . . The British court upheld my right to get some of the executor fees and trustee fees and foundation director fees based on the other great investments I made for the estate and the trusts and the foundations . . . that’s more money than you’ll ever make in your miserable rat life and sordid career trying to destroy people like me.”
Silence.
“Are you there Idiot? . . . What have you got to say?”
“Money never sleeps. So keep one eye open when you’re in bed . . . because the next time around Ludvik Helland might leave your head in the microwave.”
Sohlberg hanged up as soon as he heard her obscenity-rich ranting and cursing.
~ ~ ~
Håkon Krogvig remained at large. He was last seen on the day of his escape from Dove Center. A grainy video captured his image when he boarded a ferry to Copenhagen with a young teenage boy in tow. The fiend’s escape brought horrific nightmares that plagued Sohlberg.
Practically every morning the Solhlbergs had the same conversation at breakfast:
“How did you sleep?”
“Not good.”
“More nightmares?”
“Yes . . . they’re always about the monster. He’s out there . . . bringing hell on earth.”
“What about the honor killing of that Pakistani girl . . . Benazir?”
“Benazir Mahar . . . so sad. The only likely suspect . . . her brother . . . Naveed Mahar . . . is in Pakistan. I understand he has a distant uncle who works for the I.S.I.”
“What’s that?”
“Inter-Services Intelligence. The I.S.I. is a more corrupt version of the American C.I.A. mixed with a more incompetent version of our own P.S.T.”
“In other words . . . the kid won’t ever get arrested in Pakistan . . . or face justice here in Norway?”
“Bingo. He’ll get the same protection that the I.S.I. gives to opium growers and drug traffickers.”
“Nice. Real nice.”
Sohlberg never told his wife about his other disturbing nocturnal visitations. Although the Vigeland Park murder case got colder and older Tom Velta still visited Sohlberg from time to time in odd and bewildering dreams that Sohlberg could not interpret.
~ ~ ~
The Mistake. That was the Zoo’s new nickname for Ivar Thorsen.
After television stations aired Sohlberg’s public rescue of Ivar Thorsen several homicide detectives dropped by to let Sohlberg know—in no uncertain terms—that he was a sentimental fool and an absolute idiot for protecting Thorsen. Sohlberg himself soon regretted his decision to save Ivar Thorsen’s career.
Like poison ivy that spreads and grows unchecked in the wild Ivar Thorsen grew even more arrogant and bossy and obnoxious as time went by.
A few days after Berge’s conviction in the first trial Sohlberg spotted Thorsen in the Zoo’s ground floor. He approached Thorsen in the lobby by the elevator banks. It was time to prune Thorsen down to a more tolerable size.
“Thorsen . . . I’ve been looking around but . . . guess what? . . . I can’t find the digital fingerprint card for Jakob Gansum . . . the card that was made here at the Zoo after you arrested and booked him for Janne Eide’s murder . . . but it was never archived in our database.”
“I . . . I don’t know anything about that.”
“You don’t?”
“No.”
“If that card had been here I could’ve sent it to Interpol and had it checked against databases in other countries. The card would’ve made my investigation easier . . . and brought out the truth much faster.”
“How so?”
“As you very well know . . . the passport offices of many countries now link the person in the passport to existing fingerprint databases.”
Thorsen giggled and twittered:
“Sorry. But I’m not quite as enamored of passport trivia as you are.”
“You should be.”
“Your point Sohlberg. Get to your point. I’m a busy man. The top floor has me
working on a special project.”
“The point is that at a much earlier phase of my investigation I could and would have found the real Jakob Gansum . . . and his fingerprints in Dutch passport records and fingerprint databases . . . if you had not deleted the digital fingerprint card.”
“Watch your mouth Solly boy. I never touched the card.”
“Thorsen . . . you’re not even a competent liar. I know for a fact that you deleted the digital fingerprint card before it got archived into our database.”
Sohlberg and the Gift Page 28