“And you’ll call at once, if she has anything to tell.”
“She is your medium, I assume?”
“Yes.”
“Why don’t you ever say her name?”
“She doesn’t like that. But Countess, there is one more thing, and this is perhaps the most important.”
“Let’s hear it.”
“You will stay updated the whole time about what I’m doing. Half an hour ago I had a bad spell. Really bad, in fact. I couldn’t function for a while, no matter how much I wanted to. You should be ready to take over if necessary.”
For a moment she seemed shaken. “I don’t think—”
“There’s no one else. You can, and you will, if it’s required of you. Otherwise it’s not up for discussion, that’s an order you must obey. Understood?”
She got up from her chair, went around the desk and wrapped her arms around his head.
“Yes, Simon, it’s understood.”
They allowed themselves a few seconds without words. Then she noticed that he was pressing a hard, angular object into her hand. She let him go and looked down with surprise. It was a small, carved figure of bone.
“A tupilak, a really fine one.”
“It keeps evil spirits away.”
“Yes, everyone knows that.”
“I got it in Greenland from Trond Egede. It may sound crazy, but will you please carry it with you in your pocket?”
She kissed him on the forehead, happy about the present but also feeling a twinge of irritation. Again and again he protested that he was not superstitious. But when push came to shove . . . She pushed the thought aside. What choice did she have? Then she kissed him again, this time more fervently, without caring whether anyone came into his office.
Troulsen barged into the room. He was shooing an officer ahead of him whom he placed in the middle of the floor, as if he were a mannequin, after which he sharply commanded, “Tell them, and make it brief.”
Asger Graa told them everything. Simonsen and the Countess listened in disbelief, and afterwards for a minute or so none of them said anything, not even when Graa started begging their forgiveness.
“I’m sorry about this, I am truly sorry about this, and I realise that it means my chances for—”
Troulsen interrupted him callously.
“Be quiet.”
And then to Simonsen: “Do you have anything for him to do?”
Simonsen curtly shook his head. The Countess said to the contrite officer, “Go away.”
Asger Graa shuffled out with bowed head. Before he had closed the door, Troulsen started itemising the information he had from Pauline Berg’s home.
“The sequence of events is now established, but unfortunately there is not much to help us track them down.”
Simonsen agreed. It was what he had expected and feared. He said, “The Countess has a few things to see to that are urgent. Start with your conclusions. Do we think that Pauline and Jeanette Hvidt are alive?”
“Yes, most likely.”
Simonsen turned to the Countess. It was unnecessary, however. She was on her way out. Then he asked Troulsen, “Well, what happened?”
“Falkenborg’s fingerprints were found all over the house. He had basically been in every room, probably while Pauline was out though we don’t know where. Maybe in town to shop or something.”
“When was this?”
“Yesterday morning or afternoon. A technician found his fingerprints on a carton of milk in her refrigerator, the date stamp confirms it. We’re in the process of investigating where and when she used her debit card.”
“A carton of milk? Why?”
“We don’t know. It looks like he went around rooting in everything.”
“What else?”
“He has manipulated her computer. It’s now being investigated, but the nerds aren’t done. Her TV is destroyed, apparently he short-circuited it.”
“Okay.”
“In the evening, about eleven o’clock, he chased her and locked her in a room. She managed to bring her pistol along but no ammunition.”
“That sounds strange.”
“That’s our theory at the moment, but maybe it will change in the hours ahead. I concentrated more on where she could have been taken than on what happened in the house.”
“Naturally, go on.”
“At some point she broke out of the room where she was locked in. He had put screws in the window frame outside, so she couldn’t open the window, but she smashed it.”
“Not too many details, Poul.”
“Sorry. Well, after she climbed out of the window, she made a kind of weapon out of a big shard of glass by folding some material around one end. We found it in her car, but unfortunately it wasn’t used. He was waiting for her in the back seat and pressed a rag soaked in chloroform against her face. The car has been taken for technical investigation.”
“What did he do with her then?”
“Carried her through the forest that is right by her house, and over to his car which was parked on the other side. The dogs could easily follow the whole way. Then we lose the trail.”