“It may be an opportunity. He may have joined the … movement.”
“Yes, but there’s more. We have a printout of the telephone numbers from which calls have been made to the Langeb?k School in the past week—that is to say, when people were still willing to help us, so it’s valid. M?rk called Per Clausen’s work phone twice and Stig ?ge Thorsen once. They are also an advertising executive and a farmer respectively so they both fit perfectly with the list of occupations that Emilie Mosberg Floyd got from Per Clausen.”
“Okay, I believe you. This is well done both by you and Poul. Make sure that you inform Arne and maybe have him assist you in writing up the report.”
“I’ve already talked to Arne but I can’t find Planck, so I’ve left an update on his answering machine. Where is he anyway?”
“Sorry, I forgot to tell you. He’s sick. Or rather, tired. He doesn’t have the energy to come in anymore and there’s not much I can say about that.”
“No, of course not. But what do you think—should we bring in Erik M?rk?”
Simonsen did not answer immediately. He wanted to stay awhile and chat with her about this and that, if for no other reason than to break up his tight schedule, which was his own fault. Perhaps a function of pride, a manager’s classic overinflation of his own importance. He glanced at his watch again and let go of the illusion. And how could he know that she would be up for it? She had her own affairs to manage.
“Sorry, I dropped the thread,” he said.
“I’m wondering if we should have M?rk brought in?”
The thought of physically getting his hands on one of the people who had photographed his daughter left its trace. Simonsen’s mouth longed for licorice. He took out his Piratos. The bag was almost empty. He took the last three and concealed his enraged gaze from her by looking down. Then he answered, “No, I don’t want anyone else brought in unless I have a charge that holds. Next time they won’t be able to go home for a long, long time. But I do want you to send Pauline to Hj?rnekroen pub on N?rrebrogade and say a little prayer that our advertising executive paid with a credit card.”
“Hm, all right. that’s exactly what I’ll do.”
The Countess stared after him for a long time. Maybe he was overwhelmed, maybe he was getting involved more deeply than was good for him, but his head was certainly screwed on right.
CHAPTER 65
A young woman was sneaking around at the plaza in front of city hall in downtown Copenhagen, taking cover behind passing pedestrians, billboards, and parked cars. She finally managed to slink into a doorway quite close to the man that she wanted to surprise, and when he turned his head and looked away, she sprinted the last ten meters behind him. She placed a finger on his neck.
“Bang! You’re dead.”
Malte Borup twirled around. “Hello, Anita. Where did you come from?”
“I dropped down from the heavens. You are a terrible police spy, you know, given how I can sneak up on you like that without any trouble.”
“I’m not a police spy.”
“Whatever. You wouldn’t last many hours. But come on, and remember that we’re a couple.” She put an arm around his waist and dragged him along.
It was a good eight hours since they’d been introduced to each other and it seemed to Anita that she had known him for years. She had had this feeling from the first time she laid eyes on him. That had happened at the McDonald’s at Str?get in Copenhagen.
She had already been seated when Arne Pedersen and Malte Borup turned up. As soon as she saw them she stood up and greeted them. Pedersen received a hug, much to his astonishment, then she turned to her new partner. He was cute.
She curtseyed coquettishly as she held her hand out. “I’m Anita Dahlgren, a newspaper intern. You must be the computer-spy genius.”
Malte Borup returned her greeting and appeared to accept this title: “Yes, that’s me. My name is Malte.”
They sat down and shared the three colas that the men had brought with them.
Pedersen prefaced his remarks with a warning: “You should both be clear about the fact that what you are doing is both illegal and done of your own initiative. That’s another way of saying that if you are caught then all hell will break lose and you should know that we will simply deny any involvement. It’s not fair, but that’s the way it is.”
The two young people nodded and Malte underscored this with a short “yes.” Anita sat with her hands under her chin and stared deeply into his eyes.
“How long will it take to do the installation?” she asked.
“One minute on the remote computer, ten minutes on your computer, and about one to five minutes for you to learn the program.”
“Probably more like thirty seconds. I’m quick.”
Pedersen had to poke her on the shoulder to regain eye contact. He asked, “How will you get in?”