The Countess tried to sum up their meeting.
“So the newly appointed under secretary does not show up at Police Headquarters simply because it is pleasant to meet Simonsen, or because a director in the Foreign Ministry had an old personal relationship? The latter naturally under the assumption that my supposition is correct.”
The Oracle did not answer directly but said, “There are two things that supercede any others in our bureaucracy. One is issues of security. The other is any threat to the prestige of the office of prime minister. And by that I mean not only the present prime minister’s prestige but that of all his predecessors, regardless of party.”
“That sort of thing could definitely get Helmer Hammer out of his chair?”
“I can promise you that.”
“And which of the two possibilities do you imagine—”
He interrupted her.
“I cannot know at the present time, but what I do know is that you should be extremely cautious in your handling of this case. I hope you’re clear about that. If you find the picture you’re looking for, then you will invite me to a discreet lunch one of these days and show it to me. If on the other hand you cannot prove that Bertil was in Greenland then the journalists presumably can’t either, and in that case you would do best to drop the matter.”
The Countess reacted almost instinctively to this warning.
“And why should I be so eager to protect Helmer Hammer?”
He held her gaze as he said, “Because otherwise you stand to lose more than you gain.”
She maintained eye contact as she told him, “There is another way to decide whether my theory is correct.”
“Which is?”
“Whoever the anonymous Steen Hansen was, he left behind an excellent DNA trace on the ice cap.”
The sentence hung in the air. It took a moment for it to sink in. When that finally happened, the man leaned across his desk and took hold of the Countess’s wrist. She winced at the touch, but did not withdraw her arm.
He said slowly, “Do not even think about that.”
CHAPTER 17
At first glance Konrad Simonsen seemed relaxed when he arrived at Hundested Harbour a good hour after he had spoken with Hans Svendsen. Arne Pedersen knew that it must have taken a major reorganisation of his workload for him to arrive so quickly. It was not difficult to imagine whose head would be on the line if the conversation with Rikke Barbara Hvidt did not bring any solid chunks of gold home to Copenhagen. Simonsen started by confirming Pedersen’s thoughts.
“Hi, Arne. Yes, I cancelled the psychologist again.”
Hans Svendsen lightened the mood. True to form, he took control in his own cheerful manner.
“Welcome, Simon, my old friend. It’s very nice to see you again. The jungle telegraph says that you’re about to hit the bull’s eye or win the lottery, or however you put it.”
Simonsen’s cheeks grew red, but he said nothing.
“Hell, I think you’ve lost weight too. More of a middleweight than a heavyweight these days.”
“Unfortunately I’m not even close to what I should be, but good to see you too, Hans.”
The two men shook hands and patted each other’s back.
“Come on, let’s go over to the other side of the harbour, I’ve reserved a table for us.”
Svendsen smiled and took Simonsen with him. Pedersen trotted behind, crossing his fingers for luck.
Their reserved place proved to be a combined table-and-bench set, placed so that a picnic could be eaten undisturbed while enjoying the view of the fjord. Two women were sitting waiting for them there, and the investigators from Copenhagen nodded briefly to each other when they saw Rikke Barbara Hvidt’s granddaughter. The men sat down, and Hans Svendsen spoke.
“Hi, Rikke, it was nice of you to come.”
At the same time he reached across the table and gave the young woman a pat on the arm. He was acknowledged with a smile from both women. The older one turned her blind eyes towards him and said, “Good afternoon, Mayor. We were almost family, remember?”
The young woman blushed.
“That we were, that we were. And who wouldn’t want to be part of your family? But that Mayor business, that was many years ago now. We’ve had a municipal merger, remember?”
He sat down next to her, and they talked for a while about old times, without worrying about the others in the party. Hans Svendsen gave Rikke plenty of time, and Pedersen felt anxious on his boss’s behalf. After all, he had not been dragged to this out of the way place in Zealand, however beautiful and idyllic it might appear in the summer haze, to listen to small talk. Simonsen himself did not seem to be bothered by the long-winded preamble. He sat observing the sunlight, which through the staggered planks of the table surface struck the asphalt in distorted parallelograms. Finally Svendsen returned to the present. Carefully he said, “I’ve brought two friends with me. They are from the police in Copenhagen, and one of them would like to ask you a few questions.”