“Yes, I guess it does. That part about the phone has only come in later. And Simon also said that you might be against it.”
She heard his comment and stared for a moment out the window, after which she shocked them both: “Damage control, yes, that isn’t completely misguided, and other than an interview with the killer himself, the vigilante group most likely has nothing that could trump this kind of news, but even with source protection they are taking a huge chance.”
“Hardly bigger than the murderer, who assumed that the Langeb?k School lay empty during the vacation. Much could have gone wrong there. And the burglary-murder motive will strike them hard, yes, will devastate them. They will lose support everywhere so they’ll have to try something. Simon gives the chance of success for this plan as fifty percent but I think it’s more than that.”
“What about us? How do we enter the picture?” Berg was trying to connect to the more forward-thinking direction that the conversation was taking.
Pedersen explained, “When the intern reporter—her name by the way is Anita Dahlgren—has delivered Anni Staal’s manuscript at Erik M?rk’s company, Simonsen wants her and Malte out of the way. We’re going to send them away for the weekend and you’ll be going along to look after them. Together with a couple of other colleagues.”
He went over the practical details and ignored Berg’s sour expression. Afterward he turned to the Countess to instruct her, but here he was constantly stopped.
“Just drop it. If Simon wants me to take part in this agent setup, then he can come talk to me himself. I should refuse of course, on the other hand I am probably the only one who can live without my salary, now that we will soon all be suspended.”
It stung. Pedersen went pale, as if he had used up his last lottery ticket, and it got worse when the Countess, after a brief nod to Pauline, went to her office while Berg stood up in front of him. Much too close.
“There’s something you should know, Arne. Something I’ve been wanting to tell you for a while.”
He simply nodded.
“You and me, it’s almost too much fun for you.”
“No, absolutely not. You shouldn’t think that.” His denial was genuine, and he stretched a hand out for her.
“Be still and listen. You have your children. Your wife, your house, your regular mealtimes.”
Again he simply nodded, without knowing what he should say. She grasped his head and looked him in the eyes.
“From now on it will be on my terms. When I want, if I want it, that is. Do you understand?”
He nodded a third time. She kissed him on the mouth, then pushed him away, then changed tack and suddenly sounded like a pouty schoolgirl.
“I don’t like the idea of playing governess to Malte and whatever that little chit is who has turned his head. A weekend away, God help me. Why can’t I be with the rest of you? Can’t you talk to Simon?”
CHAPTER 68
The drive to Ullerl?se, four kilometers northeast of Vig in Odsherred, took a good hour and a quarter and Konrad Simonsen took pleasure in the trip. The sky cleared up the farther east he went and soon the Danish countryside was smiling at him in sunshine, which elevated his good mood even more.
The interview with Anni Staal had exceeded his expectations and he was sure that she was headed back to her office convinced that she had a new sensation on her hands that would shake the nation and generate record sales. He had confirmed the robbery-murder angle and then given her a series of additional details that were lies from beginning to end, but carefully formulated so as to be impossible to corroborate. He had also forced her to turn off the tape recorder and rely on her rusty stenography so that she would not be able to pin him to his words later. If her article was enough to shake the vigilante group, and perhaps draw Climber into the light through Erik M?rk, remained to be seen. There was reason to hope.
He had no problems finding the village, which turned out to be a collection of houses clustered around a supermarket and a church. He slowed down and drove slowly down the main street to gain an impression of the place. There was no sign of any industry or other places of employment and—apart from an elderly woman on a bicycle—no people. Soon he was out on the other side and surrounded by fields, so he turned the car around and headed back and stopped by the supermarket, which he assumed was the village gathering place. He was received in a friendly manner by an overweight storekeeper with an infectious, joyous laugh.
“If this is about the past here in Ullerl?se, you’ll have to get a hold of old Severinsen, and it would be smart of you to take a couple of those cans with you. They help jog his memory.”