Killing Moon

24 Friday

Cannibal

‘I can only issue you with a warrant if there is probable cause for suspicion.’

‘I know that,’ Sung-min said, quietly cursing section 192 of the Criminal Procedure Act, as he held the phone to his ear and stared at the wall of the windowless office. How had Hole endured working in here all those years? ‘But I think there’s more than a fifty per cent chance of us finding something illegal there. He was sweating, wouldn’t look me in the eye, and then he put a blanket over something he most definitely wanted hidden in the office.’

‘I understand, but your suspicion alone is not enough. The section states there must be concrete evidence.’

‘But—’

‘You also know that as a prosecutor I can only grant you a search warrant if there is a danger in delaying. Is there? And will you be able to explain why it was urgent afterwards?’

Sung-min sighed heavily. ‘No.’

‘Any evidence of other offences which could be used as a pretext?’

‘None.’

‘Does the person concerned have previous convictions?’

‘No.’

‘Have you anything at all?’

‘Listen. The word “smuggling” appears both in connection with the party at Røed’s and at the crime scene where I found that bag. You know me, and you know I don’t believe in coincidences. I have a strong feeling in my gut here. Do you want the request in writing?’

‘I’ll save you the work and tell you no here and now. But you called first, so you were probably aware what the outcome would be. This isn’t like you. You say you’ve got nothing at all? Just a gut feeling?’

‘Gut feeling.’

‘When did you start getting those?’

‘I’m trying to learn.’

‘Imitate us ordinary mortals, you mean?’

‘Autism and autistic traits are two different things, Chris.’

The police lawyer laughed. ‘Fine. Are you coming over to eat tomorrow?’

‘I’ve bought a bottle of Château Cantemerle 2009.’

‘Your taste is too elevated and your habits too exclusive for me, darling.’

‘But you can also learn, dear.’

They hung up. Sung-min noticed he had received a text message from Katrine with a link to Dagbladet. He tapped on the link and leaned back in the chair while he waited for it to download. The walls of the office were so thick they affected the coverage. And why hadn’t Hole replaced this broken chair? His back was already sore.

Sung-min felt the need to swear and thought it a shame he wasn’t in the habit of it. That he should consider starting.

Satan’s cunt!

Mona Daa was on the treadmill.

She hated running on the treadmill.

And right now that was the very reason she was running on the treadmill. She could feel the sweat dripping down her back and see her reddened cheeks in the gym’s mirrored wall. Carcass was coming through the earphones, from a playlist Anders had compiled, and according to him it was from their early period when they played grindcore, not that melodious shit that came later. It just sounded like raging noise to her and, at the moment, that was exactly what she needed. Her feet pounded upon the rubber belt rotating beneath, which kept coming and coming, the same shit over and over.

Våge had done it again. A cannibal. Jesus Christ! Jesus fucking Christ!

She saw someone approaching from behind.

‘Hello, Daa.’

It was Magnus Skarre. The detective from Crime Squad.

Mona switched off the machine and pulled out her earphones.

‘How might I help the police?’

‘Help?’ Skarre threw out his arms. ‘Can’t I just be popping in?’

‘Never seen you in here before, and you’re not wearing gym gear. Was there something you wanted to know or something you wanted to plant?’

‘Hey, hey, take it easy.’ Skarre laughed. ‘I just thought I’d update you. Always pays to have a good relationship with the press, right? Give and take and all that.’

Mona remained standing up on the treadmill, she liked the height difference. ‘In that case, I’d like to know what you want to take before you give, Skarre.’

‘Nothing, this time. But we might have use for something further down the line.’

‘Thanks, but in that case the answer’s no. Anything else?’

Skarre looked like a little boy who’d had his toy gun taken away. Mona realised she was playing a high-stakes game. Or rather: that she was so angry she wasn’t thinking clearly.

‘Sorry,’ she said. ‘Bad day. What is it?’

‘Harry Hole,’ he said. ‘He called up a witness, gave a false name and claimed to work for the Oslo Police.’

‘Oh.’ She changed her mind and stepped down from the treadmill. ‘How do you know?’

‘I took the witness’s statement. It was the guy with the dog that caught the scent of Bertine’s corpse. He said that prior to our visit, someone had rung, from us, to check a tip, an officer Hans Hansen. Only thing is we don’t have anyone by that name. So, I got the number which the farmer still had on his phone and checked. And you know what, I didn’t even have to contact the phone company, it was Harry Hole’s number. Talk about being caught with your pants down, eh?’ Skarre grinned.

‘And I can quote you on that?’

‘No, are you mad?’ He laughed again. ‘I’m a “reliable source”, isn’t that what you call it?’

Yes, Mona thought. Except you’re neither reliable nor a source. Mona was aware that Skarre didn’t harbour warm feelings for Harry Hole. According to Anders the reason for this wasn’t particularly complicated. Skarre had always worked in Hole’s shadow, and Hole had never tried to conceal the fact he thought Skarre was a jerk. But it seemed like a long way from there to a personal vendetta like this.

Skarre shifted his weight, cast a glance towards the girls attending the spinning class in the room next door. ‘But if you want confirmation on what you’ve dug up, you could contact the Chief Superintendent.’

‘Bodil Melling?’

‘Precisely. I’m guessing she’d give you a comment too.’

Mona Daa nodded. This was good. Good and dirty. But whatever, she finally had something Våge didn’t have, and she couldn’t afford to be fussy. Not now.

Skarre was grinning. Like a customer in a whorehouse, Mona thought. And tried to block out what that made her.