Simonsen stepped aside. The man walked in but stopped in the hall without making any gestures toward removing his outer clothing. He held out an envelope.
“We have found forty-one men who all more than once have contacted the National Hospital switchboard in the period from 2002 to 2005 and have lived in Trundholm County from 1965 to 1980. If we assume it is the same man, around the age of twenty-five to forty and that he has not been admitted to the National Hospital, the list can be reduced to four, of which one emigrated out of the country in the fall of 2005, so you may be able to eliminate him. But we included him because he has lived in the same village as your two murdered brothers. He is the first on the list.”
Simonsen took the envelope and expressed his thanks.
The man continued, “And then there’s this one, which reminds me that your guest from the Dagbladet is running late. She’s got problems with her photographer. He overslept so she hasn’t left home yet.” He held out the phone.
Simonsen said, “Seems like your technical tricks are working.”
“Of course they are. It is easier than you would think, as long as you have the right knowledge and access. And it is easy to use. It rings every time her cell phone makes a connection with another phone, regardless of who is contacting whom, and then you pick it up and listen in on the conversation. She or the one she is talking to can’t hear you and when the call is over or if you don’t want to hear any more you just hang up. But you can’t use it as a real phone. It simply won’t work.”
“Is there any risk of you being found out?”
“Not on my end. In that case I would find myself. In terms of risk, you are the weak link so when you’re done I’ll get this contraption.”
Simonsen grinned. “Of course, it would make my work much easier to have a thing like that around.”
The man answered dryly, “Come on, you’ve got to think big. It would be much smarter to insert a citizen’s chip into all of us so the state could keep an eye on us.”
Despite the exaggeration, his words emphasized the path they were embarking on and neither one of them made any further comment.
At that moment, Anni Staal’s copy phone rang and the man held it out to Simonsen, who carried off his debut with aplomb. He listened and an unfamiliar concern for decency made him turn his back to his guest. It was a short call. The photographer had been replaced by a healthier one and the reporter was now on her way.
Simonsen’s initial interactions with the Dagbladet crime reporter, Anni Staal, were marked by palpable tension. The photographer quickly went about his task, then took his leave. The two antagonists were left behind, feeling somewhat self-conscious. But it soon turned out that they found many of the same topics of interest—albeit from their own points of view—and the first quarter of an hour was spent in chitchat. The strained atmosphere gave way to a kind of guarded amiability and from time to time they even found themselves smiling.
Then they got to work. Anni Staal suggested a dialogue divided into two parts.
“We’ll start with gathering material for your profile. I ask, you answer, and later I write up the whole thing. Afterward we’ll do a classic interview about your current homicide case and I’ll quote you directly and without editing.”
Simonsen agreed and the following hour they spoke freely about him and his work. Her questions were informed by a substantial insight into his work, and even though her focus was banal and gossipy, her professionalism demanded respect, just as her knowledge of individual cases was impressive. Simonsen never relaxed, however: in part he had his own secret agenda to pursue and in part he sensed that behind her friendly facade he was continually being put to the test.
There were only two times that her questions made him uncomfortable.
“You sometimes employ parapsychological consultants. Do you believe in ghosts and poltergeists?”
The subject was a mine field but he managed to get through it more or less unscathed. He discussed the use of clairvoyants in a sober and balanced way, providing a couple of general examples of where their assistance had been helpful.
The second topic that made him sit up was when they touched on his relationship to the media.
“In media circles you are known as being arrogant and uncooperative. Always dismissive and often coarse. Why is that?”
Instead of launching into a long explanation of his view of crime, entertainment, newspaper sales, and audience numbers, he frankly confessed, “That is one of my weaknesses. I’m a better investigator than communications officer.”
And then there was no more meat on that bone.