The Hanging

Chapter 53

Anita Dahlgren sat in the cafeteria at the Dagbladet. She was alone at her table, which was just as well because one of the many unwritten rules of the paper forbade cell phone conversations at lunch, and she was breaking that law. On the other hand, a higher authority mandated that employees get good news, so the dinner invitation she had just received from Kasper Planck compensated for her lawbreaking, she decided. At any rate, she ignored the irritated glances of her colleagues. The invitation was a surprise and at first she was both happy and flattered. But this delight wilted somewhat in light of the matters she discussed next.

“So are you telling me that I should buy the groceries myself and make the meal?” She listened. The old man’s rudeness was outrageous. “Tell me why I’m not hanging up on you. I don’t understand it myself.”

A colleague at a nearby table shouted that it seemed like a really good idea. At the same time, Anni Staal appeared and sat down across from her, as if materializing out of thin air. It was an amazing feat given what she was carrying. In one hand she was expertly holding two bottles of beer with glasses set upside down over the top. Without interrupting, she pushed one beer across the table.

Anita wrapped things up: “Yes, I do know that you’re a weak old man, but… and… I’ll do what you say. I’ll see you tomorrow at five.”

The conversation was impossible with her boss sitting one meter away, which was why she capitulated-two minutes before it would probably have happened anyway. She aggressively turned her attention to Anni. Whatever was outwardly lost had to be conquered internally.

“I don’t drink beer at this time of day. What do you want? I’m on break.”

Anni smiled ironically. “I actually don’t either.”

“Then why did you buy them, for God’s sake?”

“Because this is personal, and because we are Danish. We don’t talk about personal things without beer, do we?”

Anita realized the logic of this. One had to honor one’s cultural heritage. She gave in and took a swig, but without any kind of toast. That would have been too much. Anni also drank. Afterward, she wiped her mouth with the back of her hand.

“You don’t like me, do you?”

It was a silly question. They both knew the answer and it came curtly: “No, I don’t like you. You are good at what you do and I can learn from you but I don’t like you.”

“Well, you aren’t the only one. I’ve learned to live with it over time.”

“In the best, most arrogant way.”

“If you say so. I didn’t come here to quarrel with you.”

“Then why?”

“You have a really good source in the Homicide Division, isn’t that true?”

“Did you really think that I would answer that question?”

“Please note that I have not asked who it is, only if you have one. But, all right, it’s fairly easy to guess who it is so you don’t have to say anything. I’ll assume that is how it is.”

“You have your own sources.”

“Let’s put that aside for the moment. What is your opinion on the pedophilia murders?”

“You already know.”

“Come on, don’t be so contrary. Give me the quick rundown.”

“Sure. My employer is setting a new record low in appealing to vigilantism and mob rule. This witch hunt for child molesters is disgusting and we don’t stop at anything to help make it worse. The politicians are lining up to express themselves in a suitably diluted manner so that the real message doesn’t miss even the most ignorant voter. Five, six… ten, twenty, two hundred, one thousand, they are animals, not people, let us exterminate them. Where is it I’ve heard this before?”

This angered Anni against her will and also hurt a bit, which was an unfamiliar emotion. But the girl’s historical parallel pierced her otherwise impervious surface. She took care, however, not to sound too upset.

“I’m not advocating violence, but I also am not going to stand for the rape of children. And definitely not for children being ordered as if they were consumer goods. I don’t think even you can ignore that video?”

Anita made a gesture of helplessness. The discussion was futile.

“And how do you think we make our living? Have you taken a look at the latest sales figures?”

“No, I haven’t. I’ve been reading stories about beatings and bands of thugs from across the entire country, but we’ll probably choose to downplay those in tomorrow’s paper, on account of space restrictions.”

Irritation oozed out of her.

“Tell me, why don’t you find another job?”

“How do you know I’m not looking?”

“I don’t. Have you seen our new opinion poll? It was posted on the Web site yesterday.”

“No, luckily.”

“Question: Do you truly wish that the pedophile crimes will be solved? Do you want to take a guess?”

“I’d rather not.”

“Sixty-four percent no, twenty-eight percent don’t know, eight percent yes. We’re putting it on the front page.”

“That I can well imagine. We’re feeding the dog its own bile.”

“What do you mean?”

Anita did not answer immediately. She finished her beer first. It had disappeared alarmingly fast. An occupational hazard at such a young age. The selfreproach was exaggerated and she smiled a joyless little smile.

“It doesn’t matter. Why don’t you tell me what you want from me?”

“Your help. I’ve been thinking that the biggest problem for the police right now is public opinion. The Homicide Division doesn’t just have an investigation to perform, it also has a PR problem. To put it another way-if they can’t change public opinion, their job will get harder and harder and sooner or later they will realize this.”

“And where do I enter this picture?”

“I want an exclusive interview with Konrad Simonsen.”

“You do?”

“Yes, me. And it has to be with him, not one of the people he shoves to the front when the public needs to be informed about something. If we can overcome our personal antipathy, this arrangement could be mutually beneficial.”

Anni underscored her logic by tapping a finger on the table. She didn’t mention that the idea had come in the mail from a reader. A couple of borrowed feathers wouldn’t hurt. Anita was thinking it over and coming to the conclusion that her boss was right.

“And this is something that you want me to pass along? Why so complicated? Why don’t you just call and ask him?”

“I’ll think about that.”

“Rubbish. You think fast. Tell me if you’re going to do it or not.”

The answer was arrogant and dismissive: “Maybe, maybe not. You’ll find out.”

Anita stood up. “Thanks for the beer.”

Anni watched her leave.

“You’re welcome, you little bitch.”