The older officer looked at his boss and thought that he seemed even more pent-up than the day before. He noted at the same time the sternness beneath the Countess’s careful facade. Not that this was surprising in any way, for with every minute that passed without finding the women—or at least Andreas Falkenborg—the chances of a happy outcome grew smaller, and that sort of strain told. He yawned again, this time without bothering to cover his mouth.
The Countess yawned too. The morning and most of the night before had been spent organising and carrying out the search for the two women, with crypts and chapels being given first priority. It was a slow process that required concentration and methodology. Now, with the planning over, they could not do much except wait; wait and hope. A quiver around her eyes revealed her state of mind, and she massaged her temples lightly while trying to convince herself that there was still a chance for the two women. She glanced at her boss, sitting with eyes squeezed shut, lost to the world. He had been working for three days straight and pushing everyone to give their all. He swept personal concerns tyrannically and consistently off the table with the result that the whole division was about to drop from exhaustion. The same must apply to him too, although he did not talk about it. Since the meeting last night he had withdrawn into himself and was hard to reach, even for her.
Finally he said, “We have only one item on the agenda, namely Falkenborg’s residence and warehouse, which in practice means news about his keys, his car and his computer, and the search for him in crypts and chapels which I initiated this morning. The car is your inquiry, Poul. What’s the status?”
Troulsen took out his notebook, browsed a little back and forth, and said, “Maybe I should start by saying that Pauline actually produced some solid pieces of evidence against Falkenborg before she . . . I have just spoken with a Vibeke Behrens, who was apparently Catherine Thomsen’s girlfriend back in 1996 and ’97, and it turns out that she knew Andreas—”
Simonsen said quietly, “His car, Poul. The rest doesn’t matter now.”
Troulsen seemed confused for a moment. Then he accepted the direction and said, “Yes, of course. Sorry, but I’m so damn’ tired. So, his car has been seen in over fifty places in the capital region since the hunt was announced, including fifteen times within the past two hours alone. That is, after we sent out the information that it’s now red. The most interesting observation happened at a parking lot not far from Skovlunde Station, about ten kilometres north—”
“We’re aware of where Skovlunde Station is. Do you know what he was doing there?”
“Yes, eating at a hot dog stand. A woman saw her chance to take a picture of both him and his car with her cell phone, and then she called us, but when we got there he was gone. But now at least we know that his car really is red.”
The Countess asked, “How long did it take before we were on the scene? That is, I mean in the form of a water-tight surveillance, not just the first officer.”
“Less than half an hour. It was the DSIS people, they’re very effective.”
“Half an hour? I’m not particularly impressed.”
“That’s due to ignorance, because you should be. If we had conducted that action ourselves, it would have been at least—”
Simonsen said, “Okay, okay. Go on, where else has he been seen?”
“At 8.35 a.m. at the hot dog truck and later at Buddinge lumberyard, it’s next to Buddinge Station. Here he bought two sacks of pre-mixed concrete and paid cash. This happened at 9.16 a.m.”
Madsen asked, “What would he do with that?”
It was Simonsen who answered. The information was not new to him, so he’d had had time to think it through.
“A realistic suggestion unfortunately is that he is going to repair a cellar floor. You can figure out for yourself why.”
The psychologist said, “Yes, I can easily figure that out, but perhaps this is good news.”
“What do you mean?”
“I don’t think he will kill either of them before everything is ready, and that means that the time for his first killing at a minimum is pushed ahead to this morning. That’s something anyway. Then perhaps his other murder will not happen until tomorrow.”
Troulsen expressed what they were all thinking.
“If it makes any difference since we have to find him first. But however that may be, we have another indicator of where he has been today, and this is quite fresh. I discussed it with Malte, and it’s just a matter of calling his audio server, or whatever it’s called.”
The Countess said, “Audio server? I don’t follow.”
“Yes, it’s something technical, and I can’t really explain it, but it’s where he stores the audio files from the surveillance of your and Simon’s home. His microphones and transmitters are connected with some networks, and you’ll have to talk with Malte about the other details. However that may be, he logged in on his server from a PC in Lyngby at 12.41 p.m., a good half an hour ago, but unfortunately this was done via an unprotected wireless network, and also . . . ”
Troulsen leafed through his notes.