“Were the pilots Americans or Danes?”
“It varied a little. As a rule they were Danish. According to military regulations I suppose it should have been Americans doing the flying, but all rules were systematically broken, except the unwritten ones. Some of the Danes got their pilot’s licence up there, for helicopters too. I think that was in their contracts, but I’m not sure. You have to recall that most of us had a lot of free time, and the Americans were helpful if you wanted some form of training. For the most part they were very accommodating, capable people, but crazy when it came to wasting resources. They didn’t give a fig if their government threw a lot of money out of the window.”
“Did it take a long time to learn to fly a helicopter?”
“Eight weeks, and it cost a hundred and fifty thousand kroner, I recall. And then of course you only got a PPL licence. Private, that is, not commercial.”
“You say that as a rule it was Danes who flew you to the DYE stations. How can that be?”
“Not just to the DYE stations, but everywhere. The reason was that the professional pilots didn’t care, and the Danes thought it was fun. The Americans simply signed in with their own names and let the Danes fly for them. But obviously only when they were quite sure that the newly trained pilots could manage the job. A helicopter like that costs an arm and a leg, and if something went wrong with an uncertified pilot behind the wheel, or the joystick or whatever it’s called, well, then Washington kicked up a fuss. It happened once up in Thule, and after that the flying rules were strictly observed for a few months, until the matter was forgotten.”
“Will you tell me how a visit to a DYE station was structured?”
“Well, there wasn’t much to it. I would count the stock of medicines and inspect the first-aid kits, and there was nothing to that. It could be done in an hour, if you hurried, and in two hours if you took it easy. What I remember best from the counting was that malaria pills were included in the inventory, because American bases all over the world had the same supplies no matter where they were. Once we made an urgent order for a shipment of new malaria pills and said the old ones had expired. You know, just for fun, to see what would happen.”
“And what did happen?”
“Nothing. Or to be more exact, we received a shipment from the US without protest. Four excellent lawnmowers also arrived once a year. They were much sought after and quickly distributed to good Danish homes.”
“Okay, but did you do anything on the DYE trips other than inspect the medicines? What about the men, were they checked?”
“No, only the medicines. The men you didn’t see, apart from the DYE leader. It was always an odd experience because everyone knew when we were coming, and I’ve been told it was a big day on the base. It broke the monotony, and remember it was the only woman they would see for months. All the men would take baths before we arrived, and then you felt them watching you from every conceivable hiding place as you were walking around; a head popping up here, a pair of eyes behind a crack there. The whole time you were observed and monitored, but never approached. Yes, it was really odd. If ever I happen to see a chipmunk on TV, I think about those men . . . their heads popping up all around and then disappearing again.”
“But you didn’t feel unsafe?”
“Not at all, there was no reason to.”
The car lurched briefly towards the hard shoulder as the nurse involuntarily tightened her grip on the wheel. She immediately corrected it.
“That is, I didn’t think there was any reason to. Ugh, this is unpleasant to think about! Will you tell me how Maryann died? They write so many horrible things in the newspapers, are they correct?”
“Yes, unfortunately, she was suffocated in a plastic bag.”
“That’s disgusting. And it could have been me.”
“It couldn’t have been. The killer supposedly went after a very distinct type of woman, and you don’t fit the profile. Can you recall who flew Maryann out to DYE-5, the day she disappeared?”
“Yes, I recall that very well because obviously that day stands out in my memory. We were all terribly upset when we heard that she was missing, because we knew full well what that could mean. As I said, it had happened before. And the helicopter pilot had to tell the story again and again, even if there wasn’t that much to tell. I mean, what was there to say? She was there and then she wasn’t. They searched for her in every direction and couldn’t find her. But he was all we had, and we went over that search again and again.”
“Was it just him and Maryann Nygaard who flew out there?”
“It must have been, yes, just those two. As I said, that was normal too.”
“Was he a Dane?”
“Yes, he was Danish.”
“What was his name?”
“Good Lord, is he the one who killed her?”