The Countess answered him, her eyes blinded by tears.
“Food is no problem, it’s the lack of fluid that is deadly. She’s young, that’s good; the weather is warm, that’s bad. Five to six days, then it starts to get critical. Less if you are sick or in poor condition. A lot also depends on will.”
Suddenly she felt as if her own words were alien and irrelevant. She happened to think then of the clairvoyant’s four loathsome lines of verse, which now filled her mind and blocked out any normal thought process.
Simonsen noticed her expression.
“Pull yourself together, Countess. You have work to do.”
She nodded while she fought back her tears. Simonsen observed her expressionlessly. Troulsen’s eyes were shiny too, and his hands were shaking. He said in a cracked voice, “I think I know what may have happened. Pauline has probably taken her contact lenses off and swallowed them, as soon as she got the chance. But now you can just as well bring him in, Simon, because he will never—”
Simonsen shouted so that it echoed.
“No, he’s not coming in! And you, Ernesto, tell everyone who asks that you are certain he will return to his hiding place. I don’t care what psycho-babble you package it in, just do as I ask. I do not want him arrested now. Is that understood?”
They understood him.
At that moment Pedersen slipped in the door and placed himself without a word at the back of the room. The Countess asked him a question, but received only monosyllabic words in response. Troulsen tried too. He did not answer at all. They let him be, he was doing no harm. Shortly after that they got more news about Falkenborg. He was staying at the Hotel Grand in Herlev, a small hotel not far from the centre, where he had checked in three days ago.
Simonsen instructed the Countess.
“The head of DSIS is on his way, and you will be the one who liaises with him. I assume that he has some electronic gadgetry so we can follow Falkenborg’s movements on a screen. Get the big meeting room set up as a control room. I will be back in a couple of hours at most, but I’m turning off my cell phone so you can’t get in touch with me meanwhile.”
“What do you mean by control room?”
“I don’t know, it’s just an expression. But we should be able to follow his movements on the big screen. And get the staff restaurant to provide water and sandwiches . . . Damn it, do I have to arrange every single detail myself?”
“No, I understand. Control room is an excellent designation. Just get going.”
Troulsen asked in amazement, “Where in the world are you off to? What is more important than this?”
The Countess had herself fully under control. She cut him off brutally.
“Mind your own business, Poul. And trust that Simon is capable of minding his.”
Troulsen backed out. He had never heard the Countess talk that way before.
CHAPTER 56
Marcus Kolding and Konrad Simonsen met in Hareskoven, by coincidence less than three kilometres from where Pauline Berg sat alone in the bunker, fighting for her life. They left their cars and walked side by side through the forest in the pleasant sunny weather. Simonsen started by thanking the man for his assistance in identifying the Finnish girl, Elizabeth Juutilainen, and received an indifferent shrug in response. Their subsequent conversation was barbaric, primitive, but also rewarding for both of them. Life for one, death for the other —the comment by the head of DSIS to Simonsen after the meeting at the Ministry of Justice was about to become bloody reality. Marcus Kolding considered the homicide chief’s proposal for a long time before he summarised in a neutral tone.
“I kidnap and torture your mass murderer, until he comes out with where he has hidden the women. In return you tell me the name of the informer you say I have in my organisation.”
“Yes, that’s the deal.”
“What about the psychopath . . . What’s his name again, I’ve forgotten it?”
“Andreas Falkenborg.”
“Do you want him back alive?”
They walked a dozen steps before it occurred to Kolding that he would not get an answer. Then he said in a business-like way, “Okay, I understand.”
The only controversy between the two men was about when Kolding would get his information. Simonsen held firmly to his proposal.
“When you get him to talk—not before.”
“How do I know that you won’t cheat me? Although that would be very stupid of you, obviously.”
“You can’t know that, and stop threatening me. You have to trust that you’ll get what I’ve promised you.”
“Or that these aren’t false accusations against one of my employees that you have fabricated to suit your agenda?”
“They will be in a form which you can judge for yourself.”
“An audio recording?”