The Son

24

The office was in twilight. Someone had turned off all the lights when they left, probably thinking they were the last ones there, and Simon had let it stay that way, the summer evenings were still light enough. Besides, he had a new keyboard with illuminated keys, so he hadn’t even needed to turn on his reading lamp. Their floor of the office building alone consumed 250,000 kWh per year. If they could bring it down to 200,000, they would apparently save enough money to run two extra emergency vehicles.

He navigated his way around the Howell Clinic’s website. The pictures from the eye clinic were nothing like most other American private hospitals, which resembled five-star hotels with smiling patients, ecstatic testimonies and surgeons who looked like film stars and airline pilots. This clinic displayed only a few photographs and sober information about staff qualifications, results, articles published in reputable journals and Nobel Prize nominations. And most important of all: the percentage of successful operations for the procedure Else needed. The figure was well above fifty — but not as high as he had hoped. On the other hand, it was low enough for him to believe it. There were no prices listed on the website. But he hadn’t forgotten what it was. It was high enough for him to believe it.

He sensed movement in the darkness. It was Kari.

‘I tried calling you at home. Your wife said you were here.’

‘Yes.’

‘Why are you working so late?’

Simon shrugged. ‘When you can’t go home with good news, sometimes you put off going home for as long as you can.’

‘What do you mean?’

Simon ignored her. ‘What do you want?’

‘I did as you said, turned over every stone, looked for every possible and impossible connection between the Iversen murder and the triple homicide. And I can’t find a single thing.’

‘You realise, of course, that that doesn’t rule out that there is a connection,’ Simon said and moved to another page on the website.

Kari pulled out a chair and sat down. ‘Well, if there is, then I certainly can’t find it. And I’ve had a very good look. And I’ve been thinking-’

‘We like thinking.’

‘Perhaps it’s this simple: the burglar spotted two opportunities — the Iversen house and a location with drugs and money. And he had learned from his first robbery that you should always make people give you the code to their safe before you kill them.’

Simon looked up from his computer. ‘A robber, who has already shot two people, squanders half a kilo of Superboy with a street value of half a million kroner to kill his third victim?’

‘Bjornstad thought it was gang-related, a way to send a message to the competition.’

‘Gangs can send messages without spending half a million on postage, Officer Adel.’

Kari threw back her head and sighed. ‘Agnete Iversen definitely isn’t mixed up with drug dealing and the likes of Kalle Farrisen, I think we can be sure of that.’

‘But there is a connection,’ Simon insisted. ‘What I don’t understand is that now when we’ve uncovered what he’s trying to hide, namely that there is a connection, we still can’t identify what that connection is. If the connection really is that obscure, why go to all the trouble of hiding that it’s the same killer?’

‘Perhaps the cover-up isn’t designed to confuse us,’ Kari yawned.

She closed her mouth immediately when she saw Simon stare at her with wide eyes.

‘Of course. You’re right.’

‘Am I?’

Simon got up. Then he sat down again. He slammed the desk with the palm of his hand. ‘He’s not worried that the police might work out his identity. This is about someone else.’

‘He’s scared that someone else will come after him?’

‘Yes. Or perhaps he doesn’t want to alert them to his presence. But at the same time. .’ Simon cupped his chin with his hand and swore under his breath.

‘At the same time what. .?’

‘It’s more complicated than that. Because he’s not hiding altogether. Killing Kalle in that manner is sending someone a message.’ Simon kicked off irritably and the chair tilted back. They sat, not saying a word while the darkness grew denser around them without them noticing. Simon was the first to break the silence. ‘I’ve been thinking that Kalle’s life was ended in the same way as some of his customers. Respiratory failure following an overdose. As if the killer is some kind of avenging angel. Does that ring any bells?’

Kari shook her head. ‘Only that Agnete Iversen probably wasn’t executed according to the same logic; as far as I know she never shot anyone in the chest.’

Simon got up. Walked over to the window and stared down at the street lights. A rumbling came from under the wheels of two skateboards. Two boys, both wearing hoodies, passed below him.

‘Oh, I forgot,’ Kari said. ‘I did find one connection. Between Per Vollan and Kalle Farrisen.’

‘Yes?’

‘I spoke to one of my old CIs from the Drug Squad. He said he thought it was odd that two people who knew each other so well had died in such a short space of time.’

‘Vollan knew Farrisen?’

‘Yes. Well. Too well, according to my CI. And another thing. I’ve checked Kalle’s file. He was questioned repeatedly in connection with a murder investigation some years ago, he was even remanded in custody. The victim was never identified.’

‘Never?’

‘All we know is that she was a young Asian girl. Dental analysis suggested she was sixteen years old. A witness saw a man inject her using a syringe in a backyard. The witness picked out Kalle in a line-up.’

‘Aha.’

‘But Kalle was released when someone else confessed.’

‘Lucky guy.’

‘Yes. Incidentally, the man who confessed to the murder is the same one who has just escaped from Staten Prison.’

Kari watched Simon’s immobile figure in front of the window. She wondered if he had heard what she said; she was about to repeat it when his rough, comforting grandfatherly voice rang out:

‘Kari?’

‘Yes?’

‘I want you to check out absolutely every aspect of Agnete Iversen’s life. See if there is something that even looks like a gunshot anywhere near her. Anything — do you understand?’

‘Sure. What do you have in mind?’

‘I’m thinking. .’ the soothing quality of his voice had gone, ‘that if. . if. . then. .’

‘Then what?’

‘Then this has only just begun.’