The Girl in the Ice

“Well, despite the fact that the east-west distance decreases the farther away from the equator you get, Disco Bay is not so far north that you can make it fit at all, if you calculate using Pythagoras, even though it is curved and may fudge a little . . . ”


Pauline was getting carried away. A couple of colleagues turned round to look at her, which immediately made her settle down.

“There is at least fifteen kilometres’ difference between the scene where the body was found and the location of DYE-5, probably a bit more. Even you must realise that?”

Pedersen did not calculate, he had given up on that; instead he looked Pauline in the eyes.

“Are you certain?”

“Yes, I am. Where would it be wrong?”

He turned his head and stared up at the screen for a long time while he recalled standing out on the ice cap. Pauline Berg stayed silent in the meantime.

“Fifteen kilometres, you say?”

“At least.”

“The helicopter pilot?”

“Exactly.”

It was a piece of information that had to be digested. Most likely her mathematical calculations were off somewhere, and that would be the end of that. On the other hand it would explain why the Greenlanders had not found any trace of DYE-5. Even if the American Army according to Trond Egede could be particularly efficient, it hardly seemed probable that such a large building could be removed without trace. Besides, it was not unheard of for an investigation to founder on a simple confusion like this. He said cautiously, “What do you want to do now?”

“Jump up on my perch and work with the coordinates. There must be a distance formula somewhere on the Internet, or maybe Google Earth can help me. And if that all goes haywire, I know someone who can do such a calculation, though I don’t have any desire to contact him.”

“Start by going into my office and finding the card from Nuuk police on my bulletin board; then call the number on the back, get hold of Trond Egede, and tell him what you’ve explained to me. But be a bit careful how you phrase the coordinates error . . . if it is an error, that is. Ask him to call back when he has clarified whether your hypothesis holds water. You don’t need to underscore its potential importance, he’ll see that for himself. While you’re waiting, you can make your own calculations.”

“If it turns out to be correct, I would really like to go out and speak with the nurse that Simon has on his list of witnesses,” Pauline said eagerly.

Pedersen considered that.

“Okay, but stick your head in and inform me first. And take the Countess along, and tell her what you’ve figured out.”

“Fine, but I would also like to speak with one of those who worked at—”

Pedersen’s interruption was sharp.

“Absolutely not alone! You are forbidden to do that. Period. Or . . . wait a moment.”

He leafed through his papers and found what he was looking for.

“Give me my pen.”

She obeyed.

“Look at this. You can talk to him, and only him, none of the others. He is in a wheelchair and has been since 1992. You can figure out for yourself what that means. You’re capable, Pauline. The day you also become a profession—”

She put her hand over his mouth.

“If I find out the killer’s name, I want to be able to announce it myself. That is, only to the inner circle.”

“That’s OK with me.”

“Do you think I’m vain?”

“Yes.”

“The Countess says so too, but she laughs at it. I’m sure you think I’m a terrible person.”

“You know perfectly well that I don’t, Pauline.”

“So are you going to come and help me with my curtain rails?”

She hurried out of the room without waiting for an answer.

Less than twenty minutes later she was back and giving him the thumbs up before closing the door to the lecture room. At that point Pedersen was in the middle of his review, major portions of which seemed suddenly irrelevant. The Countess got up from her seat and left the room. Pedersen was thinking about what he should say to his wife to explain his absence tonight.

The two women went over to the Countess’s office. Pauline Berg started talking immediately they came in, but not about the coordinates error. She said, “Simon managed that really nicely.”

The Countess answered a little abruptly, “Well, what else did you expect?”

“Nothing, except that it would work out, but there was a lot of talk that it might be difficult for him. I mean, with the father and all that.”

“What have you discovered, Pauline? Arne said that maybe it was important. I’m a little annoyed about not hearing his review. Tell me now, why are we sitting here?”

Pauline told her. This time she was better prepared, and the Countess understood her immediately. The reaction came promptly and echoed Pedersen’s.

“The helicopter pilot?”

“That’s a good suggestion.”

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