The Dinosaur Feather

Chapter 7

Tuesday night Anna lay awake and it wasn’t until four o’clock the following morning that she fell in to a deep, dreamless sleep. She woke up at 8:30 a.m. and called Cecilie. Everything was fine. Lily was happy and hadn’t missed her mom at all. Anna took a bath and ate a bowl of muesli.

“She hasn’t missed you at all,” she sneered as she put on her army jacket and boots. She would pick up Lily at 4:10 p.m., and she would be with her daughter tonight. At last.

It was past ten when Anna entered the department of Cell Biology and Comparative Zoology. In the corridor she met Professor Ewald, who was carrying four thermoses. They had last seen each other at the police station where Professor Ewald had been in tears, and yesterday neither Professor Ewald nor Professor Jørgensen had come to work.

“Ah, there you are,” she said, looking straight at Anna. “Could you give me a hand, please?”

“What are you doing?” Anna asked, baffled.

“Making coffee. We’re holding a memorial gathering for Lars in the senior common room in half an hour. Just the department and people who knew him through work.”

Anna blinked and took the thermos Professor Ewald handed her.

“Don’t you normally hold memorial services after the funeral?”

“Yes,” Professor Ewald said. “But Professor Ravn wants it done this way. Helland has only been dead for two days, but rumors are already spreading like wildfire all over the university. Ravn intends to use the service to try to quash them. Lars will be buried on Saturday, and you’re welcome to attend, if you feel like it.” Professor Ewald’s gaze lingered briefly on Anna.

“So what are the rumors saying?” Anna followed Professor Ewald into the kitchenette, where the older woman slammed the thermoses on the kitchen table and spoke in a shrill voice.

“Rumor has it that Professor Helland was murdered and the police think the killer is someone who knew him very well and might even have worked with him. And do you know something else?” she snorted. “I find those rumors odious. If he was murdered, well, then it’s either me, Professor Jørgensen, Johannes, or you who are the prime suspects. And that doesn’t bear thinking about.”

“Or any one of the five hundred employees at the faculty who wanted Helland dead. Metaphorically speaking, of course,” Anna added quickly.

Professor Ewald started to cry.

“I can’t get the image of him out of my head,” she sobbed and hid her head in her hands. “By God, I hated that man, but he didn’t deserve that.”

Something occurred to Anna.

“Professor Ewald?” she said.

Professor Ewald had sat down on a chair and was cleaning her glasses.

“Do you think Dr. Tybjerg will succeed Professor Helland?”

Professor Ewald momentarily looked lost.

“Tybjerg from the Natural History Museum?”

“Yes, Helland’s colleague. My external supervisor.”

“No, I can’t imagine that,” she said without hesitation.

Anna wrinkled her nose.

“Why not?”

“I don’t know why Lars thought it was his job to push Erik Tybjerg like that. Dr. Tybjerg is extremely talented, there’s no doubt about it, but if you ask me, he’s completely unsuited to the University of Copenhagen and acts primarily as Helland’s errand boy. For years it has been a mystery why Helland drags Tybjerg with him everywhere, even sending Tybjerg in his place. This will stop now, obviously. A Chair is the public face of a department and Tybjerg’s clearly unsuitable. He was once allowed to teach ‘Form and Function’ for one term here because Helland assured us that he could. It was a complete disaster; the students complained about him. He spoke far too quickly, as if he was chanting, and when the students couldn’t understand what he said, he lost his temper and walked out.”

“But he’s my supervisor,” Anna said miserably. “My only supervisor.”

“Honestly, Anna.” Professor Ewald put on her glasses and said gently, “At the time you began your dissertation, some of us did wonder why you had been lumbered with those two. However, it seems to have worked out all right, so—”

“But I still think Dr. Tybjerg’s a good supervisor,” Anna protested. “A thousand times better than Professor Helland—no, a million times better.”

Professor Ewald gave her a neutral look.

“Is that right?” she said eventually. “But you must agree that he’s a bit peculiar? And the University of Copenhagen is a respected state institution, not a madhouse.”

Professor Ewald got up and poured coffee into the thermoses.

Nearly thirty people gathered in the senior common room. Dr. Tybjerg was standing at the far end, his hands folded, and he was staring at the floor. Anna was relieved to see him and tried to catch his eye, but he didn’t look up. Johannes rushed in at the last minute and squeezed in behind Anna, just as the door was closed. She turned to look at him. He smelled of fresh air and frost, and his wild, messed-up ginger hair gave him a haggard appearance. They had both spent the previous day working in the study and something of a toxic atmosphere had reigned. Johannes had made several attempts to strike up a conversation, but Anna had cut him dead. She had things to do. Twice, he had asked if she was still mad at him for what he had said to the police. She had denied it. He had begun making yet another apology, and she had held up her hand to stop him. “What’s done is done,” she said, “forget it.” The truth was, she was hurt. Johannes was the last person she had imagined would let her down. When he flashed her a tentative smile in the senior common room, she intended to smile back, but instead she turned around to look at Professor Ravn.

The Head of Department started by lamenting the death and sending his condolences to Professor Helland’s widow, Birgit, and their daughter, Nanna. It was a terrible loss to the department. Helland had worked there full-time since 1979 and published countless papers; a huge loss to the department, he said again, a loyal colleague. Anna was only half-listening as she stared at Dr. Tybjerg, trying to make him look up, but to no avail. Professor Ewald sobbed noisily. Helland’s funeral would take place at Herlev Church this Saturday at 1 p.m. and the department would send flowers.

What was wrong with Tybjerg? Anna couldn’t catch his eye, and he was standing absolutely still. Then Professor Ravn cleared his throat and said he would like to take this opportunity to ask for everyone’s help with ending the rumor that Professor Helland had been murdered. He had been in close contact with the police, as he put it, and according to the information he had been given, there was every reason to think that Professor Helland had died of a heart attack. He fell silent and an eerie unease spread. The gathering started to dissolve and, out of the corner of her eye, Anna spotted Tybjerg heading straight for the exit. She went after him, but didn’t catch up with him until far down the corridor leading to the museum.

“Dr. Tybjerg!” Anna called out. “Hey, Dr. Tybjerg. Wait. Have you got a minute?”

Tybjerg turned around, looked at her, but carried on walking. Finally Anna caught up to him.

“Hey,” she exclaimed, irritated. “You got a train to catch or what?”

Tybjerg gave her a fraught look.

“No,” he snapped.

“I’ve e-mailed you, called you, and dropped by your office. Where have you been hiding?” They reached the door to the stairwell; Dr. Tybjerg went up the stairs two at a time with Anna at his heels.

“If we presume a normal room temperature, rigor mortis will set in three to four hours after clinical death has occurred. After twelve hours it will, in most cases, be complete. The biochemical explanation of rigor mortis is simple ATP hydrolysis in the muscle tissue. This is not good, Anna,” he said. “It’s not good at all.”

“No,” Anna said, trying to fathom what Dr. Tybjerg was referring to. Helland’s death? The rumors that he might have been killed? That Tybjerg would have to complete any outstanding research on his own? That Anna’s viva might have to be canceled? What?

Dr. Tybjerg stopped abruptly and Anna nearly crashed into him.

“I can’t talk to you right now. Not here. Come to the museum later. I’ll be in the collection.” Tybjerg looked urgently at her. “Don’t tell anyone you’re going to see me. Just let yourself in. I’ll meet you there. Okay?”

“Tonight?” Anna frowned.

Dr. Tybjerg nodded, and then he disappeared.

Anna stood there for a moment. She could feel her heart pounding. Then she clenched her fist and closed her eyes. She had Lily tonight; she couldn’t meet Dr. Tybjerg in the Vertebrate Collection. Shit! She considered chasing after him, but dropped the idea. Johannes was waiting for her outside the senior common room.

“You coming?” he called out.

She joined him, bristling with frustration. Her dissertation defense was in twelve days. Twelve days!

“Do you have to shuffle your feet like that, Johannes?” she snarled.

Johannes gave her a puzzled look, his face gray from lack of sleep; Anna felt ashamed at her behavior and was about to ask him how he was, but she couldn’t find the right words.

“You’re still mad at me,” Johannes said, when he had closed the door to their study behind him. Anna sat down and switched on her computer.

“I know you’re still mad at me. Can we talk about it, please?” he said gently.

Anna leapt up like a jack-in-the-box and shoved her chair at him. This made Johannes roll backward, frightened. Why couldn’t he just leave her alone? Why couldn’t he just shut up? Why was he even at the college? He had finished his thesis a hundred years ago, why couldn’t he be somewhere else writing his grant application, somewhere he didn’t disturb her all the time? She was fed up with being interrupted. She was fed up that no one took her work seriously. Not Helland, not Tybjerg, and now, it would appear, not Johannes either. Anna wasn’t thinking straight, she just exploded. Johannes blinked, then he took his jacket and his bag and walked out.

Anna sat down, flabbergasted. On impulse, she ran out into the corridor and yelled: “What kind of a friend are you, anyway?” She stamped her foot and Johannes stopped. He turned around and walked back to her, until only their breaths separated them.

He said, “Anna, I’m your friend, and you would know that if you just took a moment to think about it. I’ve apologized for what I said to the police. I shouldn’t have done it, but I was upset. Nothing gives you the right to be so hard on me, to give me the silent treatment for days. Everyone’s under a lot of pressure right now. Not just you. I’m your friend,” he repeated, “but right now I’m drowning in my own problems and I don’t have the energy to be your punching bag. Helland has died, and yes, that’s terribly inconvenient for Anna Bella and her dissertation, but the man’s dead! Don’t you get it?” Johannes wagged a finger at her. “His daughter has lost her father, Birgit has lost her husband, I’ve lost my… friend. Do you think you could snap out of your self-pity for just one second and realize not everything in the world revolves around you? I don’t have time for your whining right now. Helland’s dead, and I’ve enough of my own shit to deal with. I can’t sleep, and I can’t take any more.” He spun around and walked down the corridor. Suddenly, he turned, looked at her sweetly and sneered, “And anyway, you don’t need others to take your work seriously, Anna. You’re quite capable of doing that yourself.”

When Johannes had gone, Anna closed the door to their study. The tears started rolling down her cheeks. It happened again and again. She was treated unfairly and when she retaliated, her reaction obliterated everything and the injustice she had suffered faded into the background. Just like with Troels and Karen. Suddenly, it was all her fault they were no longer friends. As if Troels was completely blameless! It was also her fault Lily’s father no longer lived with them.

“No guy will put up with the way you behave,” Thomas had said, conveniently ignoring the reasons for her behavior. And countless times Jens had said, “Don’t be so hard on your mom, Anna Bella!”

As if Cecilie had never been hard on her!

And now Johannes. It was he who had blurted something utterly ludicrous to the police, but suddenly she was the one being unreasonable!

It took her a long time to calm down. She blew her nose and made herself a cup of tea. Once her anger subsided, she felt ashamed. Johannes was her friend, she knew that. He was right. He had helped her so much in the past year.

At the start of June, she had hit her second dissertation crisis and come close to throwing in the towel. She had read everything about the controversy surrounding the origin of birds and familiarized herself, in detail, with the scientific implications of feathers. She had long been convinced that Helland and Tybjerg’s position was scientifically the stronger, and that it was nonsense for Freeman to carry on fighting to convince the world of the opposite. All experts agreed that birds were present-day dinosaurs, and that predatory dinosaurs, theropods as they were called, had undergone an evolutionary reduction when they started hunting their prey by leaping between knolls and tree stumps before moving on to trees. Once up there, they developed first a primitive gliding flight between treetops and, later, actual flight. All the evidence pointed to dinosaurs having feathers, even before flying became a part of their behavior.

What prompted the crisis was that Anna had no idea what to do with her newfound knowledge. Countless scientists before her had attacked Freeman’s position. World-famous vertebrate scientists everywhere, ornithologists, laden with PhDs and chairmanships, had taken Freeman’s arguments apart in papers, at symposia, and in books. But Freeman had remained immune to these experts. How could she, Anna Bella Nor, ever come up with a contribution that might add or change anything? Surely that was impossible? All she could do was repeat what had already been said and write a historical dissertation that reviewed the controversy from Solnhofen up until the present day. It would be nothing but a synopsis, and no student could be awarded even a pass for work that was ultimately a summary. She had to add something new.

Johannes had come to her rescue.

He had said: “Have you examined Freeman’s underlying premises properly?” and she had nearly throttled him. Johannes was forever boring her with science theory and had written a highly intellectual theoretical science dissertation about Cambrian arthropods and been awarded a first. However, her dissertation was about bones and feathers, she had no use for his philosophical musings, she thought, and she had told him so. She had brushed him aside and carried on wallowing in her crisis. Finally, Johannes lost patience with her and gave her an ultimatum.

“Tomorrow morning, 10 a.m., in the lecture hall. If you don’t show, you’re on your own forever. I mean it.”

That evening she reluctantly conceded that it would be in her best interest to show up.

When Johannes had failed to arrive by 10:10 a.m., she had been on the verge of leaving. She had just gotten up and reached for her bag when he stormed in, gasping for breath.

“Great,” he panted, “you’re here.”

“It sounded like an order yesterday, not an offer.”

Johannes pulled off his jacket and faced her.

“Anna,” he said calmly, “it is an offer. You want out?”

Anna didn’t dare nod even though everything inside her urged her to.

They went up to the board.

“Take a seat,” Johannes said, pointing to the tall desk. She climbed up and looked at the empty board.

“Right, Anna Banana…” he said and quickly massaged his forehead. “When you say the word ‘science,’ most people imagine a strict, objective discipline that is impersonal, general, and true. We like and accept that literature, architecture, and politics are subjective, but most of us would bridle at this being applicable to, say, chemistry or biology.” Johannes cleared his throat. “The strictly objective view of science is represented, among others, by the philosopher Karl Popper, who lived from… ah, that escapes my mind… Popper was in search of an absolute set of rules for science, and he used the so-called hypothetical-deductive method, which says scientific theories must always be tested by conclusive experiments. Only when a theory could be falsified, could it be called scientific. Do you follow?” Johannes looked directly at Anna.

“Er, no,” Anna said. “Popper thought a theory was false when it was scientific?”

“No, of course not, you dork. Popper thought it was only when a theory was open to testing and could, possibly, be disproved, that it could be deemed scientific.

“At the start of the 1960s,” he continued, “a new school of thought in scientific theory was born that wanted subjectivity to be acknowledged and included in our understanding of science. One of the frontrunners was the physicist Thomas Kuhn, who pointed out the value of subjectivity in science. I just want to interpose,” Johannes said tapping his upper lip lightly, “that of course there are many different ways to interpret Kuhn, so it’s not absolutely certain I’m right.” He gave her a teasing look before he continued.

“Kuhn was later supported by a woman I have the greatest respect for, the brilliant science theorist Lorraine J. Daston, who in an attempt to solidify the role of the subjective in science introduced a concept she named the Moral Economy of Science. So we’re talking about a shift in perception, with on the one hand Popper’s demand for an absolute set of rules for science and, on the other, a more relative attitude, as proposed by Kuhn and Daston.” Johannes wrote Kuhn on the board following by a colon.

“Of course, none of them was a genius working in isolation who suddenly saw the light, that goes without saying,” he added, “but to simplify matters I’ll give you the shortened version, okay?”

Anna nodded.

“Kuhn demonstrated that a scientist’s choices are influenced by the personality and biography of that scientist, and that ultimately subjectivity determines what the scientist chooses. Kuhn, you won’t be surprised to hear, attracted huge criticism and was accused of having a completely irrational understanding of science, but he responded by pointing out that making room for disagreement doesn’t equal throwing open the doors to a misleading and totally subjective understanding of science, as long as”—Johannes raised his index finger—“the scientists in question are 100-percent loyal to their own explanations and can argue convincingly in case of any breaches of that loyalty.” Johannes planted a hand on the desk either side of Anna and stood very close to her.

“Have you examined whether Freeman is consistent within his own work? Is he loyal to his own choices, and when he changes his explanations, is his argument satisfactory?”

“I don’t know,” Anna said.

Johannes took a step back.

“Let’s move on,” he said, and spent the next fifteen minutes reviewing Lorraine J. Daston’s concept of the Moral Economy of Science. Anna listened in awe and made notes as Johannes’s talent for abstract thinking unfolded before her.

“I think that’s enough for today.” He smiled. “But first let’s summarize.” He looked gravely at her. “Over to you.”

“What?”

Johannes nodded.

Anna took her notes and jumped down from the desk. Suddenly the situation reminded her of her forthcoming dissertation defense, and her heart started pounding as she wiped the board, picked up a piece of chalk, and carefully accounted for her understanding.

Johannes looked pleased when she had finished and said: “Find out if Clive Freeman adheres to universal and established premises for sober science. If he doesn’t,” he snapped his fingers, “then you’ve got him.”

“And if he does?”

“Then you’re screwed,” Johannes laughed.

Anna was about to sulk, but then she felt it. There was something. Something almost terrifyingly intangible, but vital. Something she could work with.

Over the following weeks she studied Popper, Kuhn, and Daston in detail, and as the days passed, two points emerged: scientists who contradicted themselves couldn’t claim their theories were scientific; and scientists must, at any given time, be able to substantiate effectively any theories they propose or reject.

She revisited the controversy with a fresh pair of eyes. She reviewed Freeman’s arguments for the umpteenth time, and they were just as well oiled, indisputable, and professional as they always had been, but to Anna’s huge astonishment Freeman’s scientific premises didn’t bear scrutiny. Spurred on by renewed enthusiasm, she attacked Freeman’s book The Birds again, and the contradictions sprung from the pages like mushrooms after a rain shower. Triumphantly, she slammed the desk and when Johannes, who had just entered the study at that point, gave her a quizzical look, she got up and kissed him on the cheek. Johannes giggled.

“I don’t know how to thank you,” she said. A scent of something dark and perfumed surrounded him.

“Ah, well,” he said, shyly, “you’ll think of something.”

Two students walked noisily down the corridor, past the study, and interrupted Anna’s train of thought. She massaged her forehead and felt ashamed. Her way of thanking Johannes had been to scream at him, and he hadn’t deserved it. She tried calling him on his cell, but he didn’t answer. She left a message and asked him to call her back. The air in the study was oppressive and uncomfortable. She called Dr. Tybjerg to cancel their meeting that evening, but there was no reply. Then she did some preparation for her dissertation defense. Just after 2 p.m. she packed up and left, locking the study behind her. Johannes still hadn’t returned her call. She was outside in the cold air when she heard someone tap on a window. She turned and saw Professor Moritzen.

“Can I come in?” she mouthed. Hanne nodded.

“Have a seat,” she said, when Anna entered her tasteful office. Anna sat in a molded chair and, without asking, Hanne handed her a cup of tea.

“I’ll get straight to the point,” she said with a quick glance at Anna. “I’ve a favor to ask you. Can this remain just between the two of us?”

Anna nodded.

“I presume you’ve heard about Helland?”

“Yes, of course.”

“Good.” Hanne looked briefly relieved. “Yesterday I had a visit from a police officer, Søren Marhauge. I’ve seen him here a few times, so I assume you know who he is? Very tall guy with short hair and dark eyes?”

Anna nodded a second time.

“He wanted to know if it was at all possible that the material came from my department, and—”

“What material?”

“The proglottids, obviously.”

“I don’t follow.”

“Ah, so you don’t know that…” she said.

“Know what?”

Hanne sighed and told Anna what she knew. Anna was shocked.

“Who did it?” she whispered.

“I refuse to believe that anyone did,” Hanne said dismissively. “The material was in my care, and everyone who needs to work with live material must be approved by me before the material is released, and afterward they must account for how it was used in detail. Everything happens under strict control, and the people who work in the laboratory are colleagues I trust.” She took a sheet of paper and reeled off a list of names. “All of us have worked with parasites our entire professional lives and we’re very careful. Besides, it requires imagination to even think of infecting someone with mature eggs. It would have been much easier to push Helland out in front of a car, or shoot him even,” she remarked drily.

“Could someone have stolen the material?”

“No!” Hanne sounded momentarily offended, then she sighed again. “Of course it’s possible—in theory. It’s also theoretically possible to steal the crown jewels. But it’s very unlikely. You need to know how to treat the material, or it will die. Live organisms are complicated.” She paused.

“So what’s your explanation?” Anna asked.

“I think he was infected on a trip abroad,” she said. “I know the police claim that Helland has never been outside Europe, but he doesn’t have to have been. Taenia solium is cosmopolitan, because it spreads via pigs, so even though the number of incidents is infinitesimal, it’s still a possibility. My conclusion: he must have been infected elsewhere.” The expression in Hanne’s eyes suddenly changed.

“I don’t know if you’re aware, but there is no permanent Parasitology department at the Institute of Biology now, nor will there be any teaching next year. The course and the department will be closed due to cuts.”

“I don’t understand.” Anna was genuinely puzzled. “You still work here.”

“I do, but when I leave, it’s all over.” Her eyes shone. “We weren’t awarded a single grant to fund graduate programs, PhDs, or post-doctoral studies this year, and that means when the money runs out, well, that’s it.” Hanne fished out a thin string of pearls from under her blouse and started fidgeting with it.

“The Faculty Council controls the distribution of faculty grants and, like in any other council, they agree to an overall plan. What to invest in and why. It’s important for Denmark to have a competitive research profile that not only matches what happens elsewhere in Europe, but also in the rest of the world. That said, few people believe the Faculty Council bases its decisions exclusively on what’s best for Denmark.” Hanne gave Anna a hard stare. “Of course, a certain amount of nepotism exists in the charmed circle that is the Faculty Council. You scratch my back and I’ll scratch yours. A mechanism that has undoubtedly enjoyed great popularity since the government slammed its coffers shut,” she added tartly. “I’m not saying it’s an easy job, and that’s why I’ve always avoided administrative work myself. You won’t believe how much money we need to save right now. Council members are under pressure, and they experience, first hand, how even their own areas of research are being slimmed down. They try to compensate for that in the notorious faculty meetings. They trade pots of money and grants like kids trade stickers, and when they make an announcement, everyone holds their breath and crosses their fingers.” She held her breath for a moment.

“I do actually believe they’re trying their hardest—up to a point—and some level of self-promotion is unavoidable. Let me give you an example: take the Natural History Museum’s beetle collection. We have one of the most impressive collections in the world, and it’s left to rot. There’s no one to look after it, and no research happens within that field. Beetles are low status, they’re not ‘sexy.’ The Faculty Council shut down the department of Coleoptera Systematics, which used to be in this building. From an outside perspective, it seemed a small sacrifice, the department had only two staff, Professor Helge Mathiesen, who was about to retire anyway, and a very young scientist, Asger…” Hanne shook her head, as if she had forgotten his surname. “He went into a total tailspin. Before the summer break, he had a promising academic career ahead of him, after the summer break, his department had been closed. For a scientist who has micro-specialized within a specific field…” Again she shook her head. “He’s finished. It’s the end of his science career. That’s the way it is. Certain areas of research are high status because they reflect what’s happening globally, others have high status because they’re areas of interest to members of the council, whose decisions have huge consequences for all of us, depending on whether or not we work in a field that happens to be flavor of the month. Up until this year, I had never been directly affected by the council’s priorities and have always been given my fair share. However, this spring, it was finally our turn. My turn. The department will be closing.” Her voice rang hollow.

“They dropped the bombshell on the first day after Easter break. We have three years to finish our work. Research, which has already cost the Danish tax payer millions of kroner, and projects that—were we allowed to complete them—could save the lives of hundreds of thousands of people in the Third World where parasites kill people every day. Three years. That may not sound unreasonable to you, but it’s the equivalent of building the Great Wall of China in an afternoon. It’s a preposterous timetable.” Hanne gave Anna a dark look. “My research is my life, Anna,” she said. “I’m forty-eight, and I have devoted my life to my academic career.”

Slowly Anna began to grasp the implications.

“And now you’re scared you’ll be fired on the spot if the material found in Helland is traced back to your department?”

“Yes,” Hanne said.

“What do you want from me?” Anna asked.

Hanne shook her head softly. “Sorry, I was ranting. Listen, I can’t start asking questions around your department. Not now, after what’s happened. At worst, it will look suspicious; at best, it would be inappropriate. But I need to know about the investigation and, more importantly, in which direction it’s moving.” She looked almost beseechingly at Anna. “Will you help me, please?”

Anna placed her hands on her knees. “I’m not sure I understand. What do you want me to do?” she said.

“Keep your ears open. What are Svend and Elisabeth saying? What about the police? I know your chances will be limited, but just try to pay attention, please? And if you hear any rumors suggesting the parasites came from my stock”—for a moment she looked anxious—“please contact me immediately. It’s important, Anna. I only have three years; after that the completion of our research projects will depend on outside funding, and I can promise you that if we are labeled as careless with potentially fatal material, we can forget about outside funding. The Tuborg Foundation is currently our main sponsor, and they only touch projects that are squeaky clean. I need to know if the ax is about to fall.” She let go of the string of pearls, and it fell against her skin. “I need to be prepared.”

Anna nodded slowly, and Hanne crumpled into the elegant sofa. She ran her hand through her hair and closed her eyes.

“I’m absolutely exhausted,” she sighed.

Anna started wrapping her scarf around her neck and pulled up the hood of her jacket. Hanne kept her eyes closed and rested the back of her head against the wall.

“I need to pick up my daughter,” Anna said.

Lily was kneeling on the ground, mesmerized by a polystyrene box full of seedlings, when Anna arrived to collect her. Her daughter held a watering can in her hand and listened dutifully as the nursery school teacher gave her instructions on how to water the seedlings. Anna sat down and watched her little girl from a distance. They had seen so little of each other and, for a moment, Lily seemed almost a stranger to her. She was her child. Hers.

All of a sudden, the sun broke through the large windows of the nursery school, and Anna heard Lily say, “My granny grows sunflowers.”

The nursery school teacher listened, replied, and pushed back the soil around the seedlings where Lily’s watering had been excessive, despite the instructions. Just as Anna was about to call her, Lily turned around. She dropped everything and leapt like a kid goat to her mother.

Anna noticed the earrings immediately. Two silver studs with glass beads. They caught the light. How long was it since she had last seen Lily? Two days? She decided not to say anything. Lily was pulling and pushing her, showing her around, jumping on the spot, climbing on to her lap, trying to slip her hands into Anna’s sleeves and up to her armpits. When one of the teachers came to give Anna some information and she hushed Lily to make herself heard, Lily had a tantrum. She threw herself on the floor, kicking, so one of her socks fell off. Anna tried to distract her by pointing to a drawing of a clown and getting Lily to tell her about it. Lily ignored her. Anna tried to bribe Lily with the offer of hot chocolate. It appeased Lily, but only for a moment, then the tantrum resumed. Anna was at her wits’ end and had no idea how to make Lily stop.

So she ended up scolding her. She didn’t shout, but her voice was loud enough for one of the assistants to come over and help Lily put her coat on. Lily stopped crying and gave her mother a miserable look. Hand in hand, they walked down the path, out through the gate, across the communal garden and home to their apartment block. Anna promised herself she would never yell at Lily again. Back in the apartment, they watched Teletubbies. Anna nodded off next to her daughter and when she woke up, Lily was gone. Anna found her in her bedroom, where she was doing pretend cooking with beads.

“I want to go to Granny’s,” she said, when Anna came in and said hi. Anna squatted and tried to embrace her daughter.

“No, darling,” she said, anxiously. “You need to be with me. You need to be with Mommy.”

“I love Granny.” Lily looked away and carried on with her cooking. She seemed contented. She babbled as she poured beads from one container into another and spiced up her dish with some chestnuts and four small birthday cake candles. Anna went into the kitchen and tried very hard not to cry. She cooked dinner. Cheese-and-bacon omelet with a green salad. She cooked peas and carrots for Lily as well. They had a nice time at the table. At first, Lily refused to eat and looked away when Anna tried to feed her. Then Anna pretended the fork had come alive and every time Lily tried to bite into it, it would squeal and hide behind the milk; then it would peek out and get scared the moment it saw Lily and her many teeth. Lily laughed so hard that she cried. A moment of harmony had been created. And then the witching hour descended on them, Lily rubbed her eyes and everything went wrong. It took Anna forty-five minutes to put her to bed. They read books and Lily’s eyelids were heavy and drooping, but still she refused to go to sleep when Anna put her in her bed and switched off the light.

“Nooooooo,” she wailed and pulled herself up to stand. Eventually Anna was forced to pin Lily to the mattress, and after a bout of kicking and screaming she fell asleep at last.

Anna stood in the dark kitchen, leaning against the table. She could see the lights in the other apartments across the street, cozy homes filled with life and warmth by the looks of it.

The telephone rang. She went to answer it. It was Cecilie. She wanted to know if everything had gone all right, how Lily was, had she been in a good mood, and had she discovered that she had left her teddy behind?

“Why did you have her ears pierced?” Anna asked.

Silence the other end.

“You had her ears pierced without asking me first,” Anna said, a little louder this time.

“Yes, sorry about that,” Cecilie said sincerely. “I didn’t think you would mind. I thought we had talked about it? I thought you had said you would be okay with it. That it looked nice on little girls.”

“You could have asked me, Mom,” Anna said.

“Yes, you’re right. Sorry, darling. No, I mean it. I’m really sorry.”

“Piercings are prone to infections, aren’t they?” Anna asked.

“They were a little infected on the first day, but it passed quickly. I put some antiseptic on them.”

“Goodnight, Mom,” Anna said and hung up. It was 8:30 p.m. and her blood was boiling.

Fifteen minutes later, Anna knocked on the door of the apartment below hers. Her downstairs neighbors had a daughter the same age as Lily. Lene answered. No, it was no problem, she said. They didn’t mind listening to the baby monitor. Anna explained she wanted to go for a run and added, casually, “I’ll just stop by the university on my way back. I’m working from home tomorrow, and I forgot an important book. Is that okay? I’m taking my cell, so just call if there’s anything.” It was her only chance to meet with Dr. Tybjerg.

Anna ran faster than ever. It took her only twenty-five minutes to cover the Four Lakes. The sky over Copenhagen glowed orange, as if the universe itself were on fire. She ran up Tagensvej and accessed Building 12 by swiping her keycard through the magnetized lock. It was black and silent inside. She went to her study, turned on her computer, and wiped the sweat off her neck and stomach with a kitchen towel. She glanced at Johannes’s dark computer. He hadn’t called back, and when she checked her e-mails she saw he hadn’t replied to that, either. A sense of unease started to fill her. What if he didn’t want to be friends anymore? She had yelled at him, she had crossed a line. Troels and Thomas had both left her because she had crossed a line. But Johannes was different, she reminded herself. He wouldn’t just drop her. He was bound to call her eventually.

She found a sweater in one of her drawers and put it on. Then she went down the corridor.

She regretted her decision as soon as she let herself into the museum. The likelihood of Dr. Tybjerg still being at work was less than zero. He must have given up waiting for her and gone home. The building felt deserted. She switched on the light and started walking. She had a constant feeling of doors opening behind her, of hearing footsteps; after all, it was a distinct possibility, she told herself. There might be students around, busy with exam preparations, dissertations, or essays.

She was relieved when she reached the Vertebrate Collection. He was there. Or rather: he had to be there. At the entrance to the collection, a solitary lamp was lit on his usual desk, there was a pencil, a pile of books, and, when she looked more closely, she saw the box with Rhea Americana. He would never have left it out if he had gone home. She pulled out a chair and sat down. It was very quiet; only a fan hummed in the distance.

After less than five minutes, she grew impatient. Perhaps he was somewhere inside the collection looking for more boxes and had been distracted by something? She put the lid on Rhea Americana, picked up the box, retrieved the master key from her running pants, and opened the double doors leading to the Vertebrate Collection. The sweet smell of preserved animals and boiled bones enveloped her immediately, and she breathed through her mouth. The doors closed behind her with a deep, soft sigh.

Only the nightlight was on, so Dr. Tybjerg couldn’t possibly be inside. He would have needed more light to work. Anna was just about to leave when she heard a rustle. The sound was coming from the right-hand side of the room. The blood started racing through her veins.

She heard another noise. It was a sniffle, followed by the long, slow groan of rusty hinges, then feet, shuffling across the room. Anna kicked off her sneakers without making a sound. The labyrinthine rows of cabinets were to her left and, in only four steps, they would conceal her.

At that moment, someone switched on a study light in the far end of the room and a soft, honeyed glow spread to Anna. Then she heard Dr. Tybjerg.

“Ah, well,” he sighed. He whistled briefly, there was the sound of another hinged lid squeaking. Anna coughed. Tybjerg instantly fell silent and turned off the light. She heard footsteps and again the creaking sound of a hinged lid. She frowned.

“Dr. Tybjerg,” she called out, tentatively. “It’s me, Anna Bella.”

There was a five-second pause, then another creak, after which the lamp was turned on again. Anna walked toward the light, and Dr. Tybjerg walked toward the sound. They didn’t follow the same path, so when Anna turned a corner and could see the desk with the lamp, Dr. Tybjerg wasn’t there. Suddenly, he appeared right behind her. She spun around and took a step backward.

“Anna,” he said, sounding fraught. “You came after all.” He stepped past her. Anna tried to understand why on earth Tybjerg was here. There was no obvious sign of collection boxes, bones, a notepad, or a magnifying glass.

“What are you doing?” Anna said, gently putting down the box of Rhea Americana on one of the desks. Dr. Tybjerg stared at his hands.

“Researching,” he said.

“In the dark?”

Dr. Tybjerg’s face looked sly and the faint smell of stress from this morning was now mixed with an unmistakable note of stale sweat. He kept looking at his hands. Anna turned on the lamps on the adjacent desks.

“All right, Dr. Tybjerg,” she demanded. “What’s going on?”

Tybjerg didn’t speak for a long time.

“Anna, I’m scared,” he said at last, glancing up at her. His eyes were dark.

“What are you scared of?” Anna asked.

“Helland’s dead,” Tybjerg whispered.

“Yes, Helland had a heart attack. It happens and it’s not infectious.” Anna tried to gauge if he knew more. Tybjerg looked at her for a long time, as though he was trying to pull himself together.

“I heard about his tongue,” he said finally, and pointed to his own. “The tongue is a mucus-covered muscle, found only in vertebrates. Its upper surface is covered with papillae, of which four different types exist. The filiform papillae, the foliate, the circumvallate, and the fungiform….” He stared into space. “Why was his tongue severed? I don’t understand. There’s something fishy about this, there’s more to it.” He paused and looked straight at Anna.

“Mold is a furry layer found on items such as food, and it occurs when the relevant surface is infected with, for example, Mucor, Rhizopus, or Absidia, not that I’m a mold expert.” Baffled, he shook his head and let himself flop onto a chair. Anna pulled up a chair for herself and sat down opposite him. She was on her guard.

“I’m not really sure where you’re going with this…” she began.

“He’s here,” Dr. Tybjerg said.

“Who?”

“Freeman.”

“What makes you think that?”

“You don’t get it, do you?” Tybjerg shook his head in disbelief. “There’s a bird symposium this weekend and Freeman is one of the speakers. He’s giving a so-called ‘cultural contribution,’ it says on the Internet—that’s their way of saying that, scientifically speaking, his contribution is hogwash. And yet, he’ll be speaking. For an entire hour. On utterly ridiculous subjects, which he’s spoken on twenty times before. It’s just a cover, that’s what it is.”

“What for?”

“I don’t know how he did it, Anna.” Dr. Tybjerg suddenly looked very worried. “But Freeman must have found out about your dissertation. That we intend to annihilate him once and for all. Helland and I have spent the last ten years deconstructing Freeman’s scientific credibility, and we’re slowly getting there. He’s cornered now and—”

“Clive Freeman is an old man,” Anna protested.

“He attacked me,” Tybjerg whispered. “Two years ago. In Toronto. He was wearing a ring and he hit me with it, on purpose.” Tybjerg touched his eyebrow, where Anna remembered he had a thin, white scar. She was taken aback.

“Didn’t you report him?” she asked, horrified.

“And he sent threatening e-mails to Helland,” Tybjerg said. “Helland treated it as one big joke, ‘ha-ha, hilarious, don’t you think,’ he would say to me. He just laughed it off, but I saw things differently. I’m the only one of us who has actually met Freeman. Helland always sent me. I’ve debated with him before, but the last time…” Tybjerg gulped. “His eyes.”

“What about them?” Anna said.

“They were filled with hate.”

Anna sighed.

“So you’re saying Freeman is using the bird symposium as his excuse to go to Denmark and murder Lars Helland?”

“Yes.”

“And that you’ll be next?”

“Yes.” Tybjerg swallowed a second time.

“I hope you realize just how insane that sounds.”

Tybjerg’s face shut down and Anna instantly regretted her words.

“And what about me?” Anna forced Dr. Tybjerg to look her in the eye.

“I don’t know,” he whispered. “He must have found out we’re about to deal him the fatal blow. I don’t know if he’s made the link to you.” Tybjerg gave Anna a wretched look. “But I think you need to be careful.”

“You’re wrong,” Anna said, lightly.

“Possibly, but I’m not taking any chances.”

“But you’re wrong.”

Tybjerg focused on the darkness. He was in a world of his own.

“Helland died because his body was riddled with parasites,” Anna said and waited for his reaction. Tybjerg continued to stare into space until, slowly, he turned to her.

“I don’t understand.”

“His tissue was full of Taenia solium cysticerci. Thousands of them; several were found in his brain and that’s why his heart failed. The police are currently trying to establish whether the infection was the result of a crime. But whether or not it was deliberate, it couldn’t have been Freeman. The infection had reached an advanced stage. The cysticerci were three to four months old. Big ones.” Anna straightened her back. “So unless you think Freeman came here in the summer to infect Helland, then it couldn’t have been him.”

Tybjerg looked confused.

“I know this from Professor Moritzen and Superintendent Søren Marhauge. By the way, Marhauge is looking for you,” she added.

“Leave now,” Tybjerg suddenly urged her.

“Dr. Tybjerg, my dissertation defense is in twelve days, even if we have to hold it down here! I have to do it. Did the office forward my dissertation to you? I handed in three copies last Friday. Have they given you one?”

Tybjerg nodded.

“Have you read it?”

“You need to go now,” Tybjerg said.

“Yes, I do,” Anna said, but she waited. “Perhaps we could leave together?” she suggested.

“No, I’ve a few things to do,” he mumbled. “Just go without me.”

Anna shrugged.

“Okay, bye,” she said. She started walking down the aisle, turned around and said, “See you, Dr. Tybjerg.”

Tybjerg didn’t reply, but turned his back to her. Anna pretended to leave, but slipped back inside and closed the door. She stood very still. Her sneakers were still on the floor where she had left them. She could hear Tybjerg mutter to himself. Anna tiptoed back to the light. Rather than retrace her original route, she walked two aisles further along. Then she peeked around the corner. Tybjerg had opened one of the cabinets and was struggling to pull something out. It was a thin mattress, which he rolled out on the floor. Then he undressed, took out a sleeping bag, climbed into it, and made himself comfortable on the mattress. He started reading a journal and munching an apple. Anna watched him for a little while, then she slipped silently out of the collection and started her run home.

It was 10:15 p.m. when she came down Jagtvejen, and though her speed was good, she was cold in her running clothes. She would defend her dissertation in less than two weeks, she had yet to prepare the one-hour lecture that would precede it, and she still had plenty of revision to do if she was to have a hope of answering the questions that would follow. When she had met with Dr. Tybjerg, she had intended to tell the police where he was the next day. Smoke him out, force him to examine her. Now she was having second thoughts. Tybjerg was clearly terrified and beyond rational argument. What if he had a breakdown? She had already lost one supervisor, and the last thing she needed was for Tybjerg to be out of action. She sped up as if she could run off her frustration.

Anna let herself into the communal stairwell and heard a door open upstairs. The timed light went out and Anna felt a pang of guilt. A run shouldn’t last nearly two hours, not even with the bogus excuse of picking up a book. She reached out to turn on the light, but it came on before she touched the switch. She leaned forward and looked up the stairwell. A cold, defensive shiver ran through her.

Lene’s face appeared in the gap between the banisters, looking down.

“Any problems?” Anna said, shamefaced, taking several steps at a time. Her downstairs neighbor was holding the baby monitor in one hand and Anna’s key in the other.

“Who was that?” Lene asked. The light went out and Anna turned it on again.

“Who?” Anna was confused.

“That guy.”

Anna looked perplexed.

“Didn’t you pass a guy on his way down? He’s just left.”

Anna squinted.

“I didn’t see anyone. I’ve been out running.” Anna was still confused.

“There was a guy here just now,” Lene persisted. “The baby monitor bleeped, and I went upstairs to check that everything was okay. He was sitting on the stairs by your landing. He was waiting for you, he said, and that was fine by me. I said you would be back shortly. Lily was sleeping when I went inside, so I don’t know what set off the monitor. I put her comforter back and was going to call you to find out when you were coming back because we wanted to go to bed. I’d left your front door open, but when I was about to leave, the guy had made himself comfortable on your sofa, and I wasn’t happy about that. I tried calling you to find out if it was okay.”

Anna fished out her cell from her running jacket. Three missed calls.

“I’m sorry,” she said. “It was on silent.”

“Because I couldn’t get hold of you, I asked him to wait outside. I explained you had gone running and he would just have to wait on the landing. I’ve never seen him before; I couldn’t just leave him in your apartment when you hadn’t mentioned anything about visitors, could I?”

Anna shook her head.

“I wasn’t expecting anyone,” she managed to say. She felt cold all over.

“But you must have seen him,” Lene insisted. “He only just left.”

“I didn’t see anyone,” Anna said. “Could it have been Johannes, my colleague from the Institute of Biology? Did he have red hair?”

“He wore a cap. And a long coat,” Lene said. “I think he removed his cap when he sat down in your living room, but I don’t know if his hair was red. More brown, I think. I’m not sure.”

“It doesn’t make sense,” Anna said. “I used my key to let myself in downstairs and then I walked up. No one came down. I swear.”

Lene looked tired and ran her fingers through her hair.

“Weird,” she mumbled. “He raced down the stairs only a minute ago. I’d closed my door, thinking how odd it was for someone to visit you this late. I wondered if I should fetch Otto, and then I heard him leave in a hurry. As if he had changed his mind and decided not to wait for you. I went back out on the landing, I saw his hand glide down the banister, the light went out, you switched it back on and we spotted each other in the gap.” Lene pointed to the curved banisters. Anna felt another chill down her spine.

“You turned on the light, right? Because it wasn’t me,” she said.

“No,” Lene said. “I didn’t turn it on. You did.”

Anna raced up the stairs to her own front door, holding out her key as a weapon. Her hands were shaking, and it took three attempts before she found the keyhole. The apartment was dark. Anna ran blindly into Lily’s room. She could make out the comforter, Lily’s toy dog, Bloppen, which had keeled over, and her daughter’s favorite embroidered pillow; she could even make out the stickers Lily had stuck on her bedposts, but she couldn’t see Lily. She heard Lene behind her, and the two baby monitors screeched when they got too close. Lene switched off the transmitter and Anna turned on the light.

Lily twitched, but soon resumed sucking her pacifier energetically and carried on sleeping, rosy-cheeked and safe. Anna slumped next to her daughter’s bed and buried her head in her hands. She was shaking all over and struggling to breathe. What did she think she would find? An empty bed? A blue-eyed doll? A child’s corpse?

She heard the hiss of a kettle boiling and of cups being filled. The cups were carried into the living room, away from Anna who was still sitting on the floor, panting. Of course Lily was safe and sound in her bed, where else would she be? Anna dug her fists into her eyes. She had to repeat this rational explanation, a thousand times if necessary, or she would go crazy.

Anna heard Lene open the doors of the wood stove, heard the scrunch of newspaper followed by the sound of logs and a match being struck. Shortly afterward, Lene appeared in the doorway.

“Why don’t you come into the living room?” she said.

Anna got up. A cup of tea was waiting for her and a white ribbon of steam wound its way up to the rosette in the stucco ceiling. Anna couldn’t look Lene in the eye. A man had been waiting for her. He could have been anyone, and that was seriously weird. Anna would surely find out who he was tomorrow, or in a few days. A suitor who had gotten cold feet, was Lene’s suggestion. She, too, thought the whole incident had been bizarre.

But Anna had panicked, and Lene had witnessed it. The tears started rolling down her face. Lene stroked her hand.

“I’d like to go to bed now,” Anna muttered.

“But are you all right?” Lene asked. “I’ll stay if you want me to.”

“No,” Anna said. “It’s okay. I’m just tired.”

Once Anna was alone, she took off her damp running clothes and sat naked on a chair in front of the fire. She opened the doors and let the warmth soften her skin. She checked her cell. Only one of the missed calls was from Lene. The other two were from Søren Marhauge’s cell. Johannes still hadn’t returned her calls. She rested her head against the back of the chair and spent a long time studying a framed photograph on the wall above the wood stove. It was black and white, and it had been with her since her childhood. Cecilie and Jens, very young, both with long, unruly hair and unlined faces. Jens had his arm around Cecilie’s shoulder; it looked as if he was nudging her gently toward the lens. Anna was peeking out between them; she was laughing and her eyes shone.

Anna had always loved that picture, but suddenly she couldn’t understand why. Cecilie didn’t look happy at all. Her mouth was smiling, but her eyes were dead. Jens’s arm rested heavily on her shoulder. If he were to let go, she would fall out of the frame. Jens’s gaze showed determination that this picture would happen. As though he knew the moment must be captured, so the image could accompany his daughter into adult life and remind her of her happy childhood. Anna’s own grin was broad, her eyes sparkled with euphoric stars, and she was on top of the world. But the adults were suffering.

Around midnight she had spread her own and Lily’s personal papers across the living room floor. Her own were reasonably well organized; she had Cecilie to thank for that. Anna looked briefly at her own birth certificate. When Lily was born, Thomas and she had disagreed vehemently about what her name would be and finally, two days before the mandatory six-month deadline was up, they had drawn lots. “Or we’ll just have to name her after the queen,” Anna had joked, but had secretly breathed a sigh of relief when the winning ticket said Lily. When Anna herself was born, the rules would appear to have been less strict. She had been named Anna Bella Nor on November 12, 1978, when she was almost eleven months old. She put the birth certificate aside and began looking through Lily’s papers, which she had chucked into a large buff envelope. The colorful child-health record book from the health visitor, the very first photographs from the maternity ward, and the plastic ID bracelet from the hospital. Anna had intended to create a scrapbook for Lily, but nothing had come of it. She and Thomas had broken up between Lily’s nine- and twelve-month checkups. Their health visitor had been shocked when she came to see Lily and found Anna falling apart. Anna had made tea while the health visitor rolled colored balls to Lily.

Suddenly, the health visitor had said, “And I thought you were such a lovely family.”

Anna knew she meant no harm, but she exploded with anger and screamed at the woman.

“We still are. With or without Thomas.”

The health visitor had apologized, Anna burst into tears, and Lily refused to play with the colored balls.

Feeling a little sad, Anna flicked through Lily’s child-health record book, scared to stir up memories that might upset her. The teething, the endless nights when Anna paced up and down with her inconsolable baby so as not to disturb Thomas, on the brink of insanity from exhaustion, yet simultaneously more ecstatic than she thought possible. Lily had gained weight, the numbers recorded for posterity in the health visitor’s neat handwriting. Anna ran her fingertips over all the new skills Lily had acquired.

Anna’s own child-health record book from 1978 was orange, the paper slightly furry, and the tone more businesslike than in Lily’s. Curious to know more, Anna leafed through it. She had started crawling when she was eight months old, and she took her first steps two days after her first birthday, she read. The health visitor recommended cod-liver oil and hard-boiled egg yolk, and had written down how positive it was that Anna ate meat and fruit. There had to be a second book, Anna thought, as she looked through it. Recordkeeping in the one she was looking at now had begun in September 1978, when Anna would have been around eight months old, and ended in January 1979. Anna says “oops” and “no,” it read. Anna smiled. The name of the health visitor, Ulla Bodelsen, was neatly printed on a dotted line.

She got up, went to her computer and searched the telephone directory for Ulla Bodelsen. She got two hits. An Ulla Karup Bodelsen who lived in Skagen, and an Ulla Bodelsen listed as living in Odense. She noted both numbers and sat for a while looking at the note before she put it aside. Anna says “oops” and “no” echoed inside her head. She stared at the photograph again. The mouths of Cecilie and Jens were smiling, but Anna’s smile was the only genuine one. She was three years old in the picture and had no hidden agenda. Just like Lily.

It was almost one o’clock in the morning when Anna went to bed. For the first time in days, she slept a sound, untroubled sleep.

When she woke up Thursday morning, she was cold. She lit a fire, turned up the radiators, made oatmeal, and put far too much sugar on it.

“Yummy,” Lily said, skillfully scalping the oatmeal with her spoon. “More sugar, please.”

Anna sprinkled a little more into her bowl and rubbed her nose against the back of Lily’s neck.

“I’ll pick you up early today,” she whispered.

“I want to go to Granny’s,” Lily declared. Anna sat down at the table and looked into Lily’s eyes.

“No, Lily, you’re not going to Granny’s today.”

“Granny makes pancakes,” Lily argued.

“You can have pancakes here,” Anna said. “With ice cream.”

“Ice cream,” Lily exclaimed, overjoyed, and looked in the direction of the freezer.

“Not now, Lily. This afternoon,” Anna replied.

“No, ice cream now.”

Anna sighed, found another bowl and scooped two hard balls out of a tub. Lily hoovered the contents of the bowl and wanted more. In the end, Anna had to carry her howling daughter into the hall and put her into her snowsuit. But suddenly, Lily threw her arms around Anna.

“You’re my mom,” she said.

Anna was touched. “And you’re my cuddle bunny,” she replied, softly.

“Bloppen is coming with me to school,” Lily declared.

“Then go find him.”

While Lily rummaged around her bedroom, Anna zipped up her jacket and thought about Johannes, who had still not called, and then about the man who had come to see her last night. It had to be Johannes, who else could it have been? The World’s Most Irritating Detective would surely have shown his ID. Anna sent Johannes another text.

Johannes darling. Please call me. I’m really sorry about yesterday. I’m sorry that I shouted at you. By the way, did you stop by last night? Please call!

Anna remembered the note with the telephone numbers for the health visitor. It was still lying next to the computer and she stuffed it in her pocket.

“Come on, Lily.” She called down the hallway to Lily’s room.

Lily was dawdling. Anna waited on the landing and called out again.

“Lily, come on.”

At that moment she heard a security chain rattle and a dark gap appeared behind her neighbor Maggie’s door. Maggie peered out, and when Anna said “hi,” her face lit up, she closed the door, removed the chain, and joined Anna on the landing.

“Look at the state of you,” she exclaimed. “You have Olympic-size bags under your eyes. Have you had gentlemen callers?” Maggie wore a floor-length dressing gown and her hair stood out on all sides.

“Not exactly,” Anna said, but couldn’t help smiling.

Maggie pulled the dressing gown tighter and suddenly glanced anxiously down the stairwell.

“So who is he then? It did seem a little odd.”

Anna froze.

“What do you mean?”

The old lady scrutinized Anna.

“The man who came back last night. It all seemed very strange to me. The other day I asked him if he wanted a drink. I didn’t want him sitting out here getting cold, did I? But he declined and, after last night, I’m very glad that he did.”

“What do you mean, the other day?” Anna asked, massaging a spot on her upper chest through her jacket.

“The other day. Yesterday? Or was it two days ago? What are you doing?” Maggie asked, indicating Anna’s hand. Anna sighed.

“It’s nothing. It’s my heart. It’s racing. What did he look like?”

“He had lovely eyes… and he was tall. He looked nice. Nice and a tad nervous. He wore a hat and a long black coat. His hair was auburn.” Maggie touched her ear to show where his hair had stuck out.

“It must have been Johannes. What did he say?”

“I was coming back with my groceries, and you know how I leave the bags on the landing and carry them upstairs, one at a time. When I came up with the first bag, there he was. Very polite, asked if he could help me, and then he carried my groceries upstairs. He said he was one of your friends, so I invited him in, but as I said, he declined. He glanced at his watch as though he was in a hurry,” Maggie explained. “And yesterday, when I saw him sitting there again, I thought it odd and I nearly called the police. And then, suddenly, he was gone. Like the last time. As though he had changed his mind. Strange, don’t you think? Either you need to see someone or you don’t. I rushed to my balcony to check if the light was on in your apartment, but it was dark as the grave,” she said dramatically and narrowed her eyes.

“It must have been Johannes,” Anna repeated, to herself mainly. “Think back. When was the first time he came here?”

“Three days ago,” Maggie declared.

Lily came outside with Bloppen tucked under her arm.

“Can I have a Gummi Bear, please?” she asked. Maggie shuffled back inside her apartment, closely followed by Lily. Anna remained outside. It was going to be a long day.

Anna received a text just as they entered the nursery school. She reached into her pocket for her mobile, but the mayhem of children and parents in the coat room distracted her. Lily ran ahead into the classroom and tugged the skirt of one of her teachers.

“Look!” she called out. “Look! It’s my mom. Look, she’s right there!” Lily pointed and a teacher came out to share Lily’s excitement.

“Look, my one is the lion,” Lily said, sticking out her lower lip. Since when had her speech developed so quickly? Anna thought. “I’ve got the lion, Anton has the rhinoceros, and Fatima has a fried egg,” Lily explained and pointed to some small wooden shapes stuck to the wall above the peg rail.

“Do you have long to go before you finish your dissertation?” the teacher asked.

“No,” Anna said, looking up in surprise.

“She misses you,” the teacher said softly.

“She has her granny,” Anna defended herself.

“Sure,” the teacher said. “But you’re her mother, and she talks about you all the time.” Then she turned on her heel and left.

“I’m four years old,” Lily said.

“No, darling. In five weeks you’ll be three years old.” Anna held up five fingers. “And I’ll pick you up at four o’clock,” she went on and removed one finger.

Outside the school she fished out her cell and smiled when she saw the text from Johannes.

Apology accepted. We’re still friends. I just need to be alone for a while. Hugs. P.S. I was at home all of last night and didn’t visit you. Must have been one of your other admirersJ

Anna breathed a sigh of relief. Johannes wasn’t upset. But then, who could the visitor have been?

She was on her way into Building 12 when her cell rang. It was Cecilie.

“No, you don’t need to pick her up,” Anna said, before Cecilie had time to say anything.

“Ah, right, well, okay. Bye then, Anna,” she said, sounding hurt. Then she continued, “But it wouldn’t be a problem today. My meeting has been canceled, and I could pick her up as early as two o’clock. Saves her wasting her afternoon at the school.”

Anna lost her temper and screamed. “You’re not picking her up, do you hear me?! Christ Almighty, why can’t you leave us alone? I’ll call you tonight.” She ended the call and stuffed her phone into her pocket.

The seal on Helland’s door had been broken, and as Anna walked past she could see crime scene investigators inside the office. She slowed down. They were wearing thin white boiler suits and spoke quietly to each other. The floor in the corridor was covered with dirty footprints, and Anna had an irrepressible urge to eavesdrop. Why had the police come back? When she entered her study, she saw that Johannes’s computer was gone. An official-looking form had been left on top of one of his piles of paper, briefly stating it had been confiscated by the police. Anna took out her mobile.

The police have walked off with your computer, she texted.

No reply.

Cecilie, too, stayed silent.

At noon Anna went to the cafeteria and bought two sandwiches and two cartons of juice before she made her way to the museum. She let herself into the Vertebrate Collection with her master key. The ceiling light was on and she found Dr. Tybjerg at a desk, writing on a lined pad. Several reference books and boxes of bones were beside him. Tybjerg looked up, startled.

“Oh, it’s you.” He sounded relieved.

“You slept here last night, Dr. Tybjerg, I know you did,” she said.

Tybjerg studied his hands and Anna noticed how his nostril had started to twitch. She placed a sandwich in front of him.

“Why don’t you sleep at home?” she demanded, losing patience with his paranoia. Dr. Tybjerg looked worried.

“Anna,” he begged. “Promise me you won’t tell anyone. Please!”

“Tell anyone what?”

“For the past eight months I’ve been living in my office,” he confessed. “To save money. Traveling to excavations… it all adds up. I lost my apartment. No one knows yet. The last few nights I’ve been sleeping in here. Is that for me?” He touched the sandwich hopefully.

“Yes,” Anna replied, and handed him a carton of juice. She was shocked to see Dr. Tybjerg rip off the wrapping and wolf down the food.

“You’re also hiding from Freeman, aren’t you?” she said.

Tybjerg was eating and didn’t reply. Anna snapped. She removed the lid from one of the boxes, took out a bone, and slammed it down in front of her supervisor.

“This,” she hissed, “is the hand of a bird. It has a half-moon-shaped carpus, which overlaps the basis of the two first metacarpal bones in the wrist common to all maniraptora, that is all birds, both ancient and modern. It’s a homologue feature, which underlines the close kinship of prehistoric birds to modern ones. Freeman disagrees. He thinks the dinosaur’s carpus may have had a feature that, at first glance, could be mistaken for a semilunar, but that the two bones only bear a superficial likeness, and this apparent similarity has no impact on their relationship.” Anna sent the bone skidding across the desk and stuck her hand into the box a second time.

“And this one—” she started.

“Stop,” Dr. Tybjerg implored her.

“—is the pubic bone.” Anna ignored him. “Those of us who know better, know that both theropods and Archaeopteryx and a couple of enantiornithine birds from the early Cretaceous had an enlarged distal on the pubic bone, i.e., another homologue feature. Of course, Freeman denies this. Further, there is the dispute about the position of the pubic bone. And the dispute about feathers, about phylogenetic methods, about the stratigraphic junction, about the ascending process of the talus bone, about everything.” Anna looked at Dr. Tybjerg.

“That’s why he’s come to Denmark, Dr. Tybjerg. To win an argument he has no chance of ever winning; not to kill Helland, or you, or me, or my daughter.”

“Stop it,” Tybjerg howled. His knuckles were white. He rose. “It’s pointless,” he said, taking the rest of his sandwich and disappearing down the dark aisles. She could hear him shuffle around and didn’t know what to do. She slapped her head with the palm of her hand.

Her cell rang on her way back to the department. It was Jens.

“Hi, Dad,” she said.

“Anna, hi.” He sounded breathless. “I’m on a job. In Odense, as it happens.”

“Right,” Anna said. She was walking down the glass corridor that connected the museum and the Institute of Biology.

“Listen, Anna,” he said. “Your mom just called me. She sounded quite upset.”

“Right,” Anna said again.

“What’s going on?” Jens asked. “I understand that you’re under a lot of pressure, but be nice to your mom, please? She does so much for you, Anna sweetheart.”

Anna glowed red-hot with rage. She was speechless.

“She says you screamed at her and hung up. What’s that all about?”

Anna finally got her voice under control.

“Please can you explain to me when my mother became so fragile?” Anna sneered. “Since when is she made of glass? Can you tell me that? She’s had special treatment all my life. My whole freaking life.”

“Anna,” Jens said after a pause. “Calm down.”

“No, I won’t!”

“You calm down right now!” Jens shouted.

“Do you know what you can do? You can call my mother and remind her that Lily is my child. And when she accepts that, then she can call me. For God’s sake, Dad, Cecilie cut Lily’s hair and had her ears pierced without asking me first!”

Jens was silent.

Then he said, “She’s only trying to help.”

“I don’t need any help,” she said. “From you or her.”

At four o’clock that afternoon, she picked Lily up from nursery school.