They had set the video on Pause but the frozen image was unpleasant enough.
The one brother stood up and pulled a cloth from the sofa table, causing a vase to tumble and smash against the floor. He draped the cloth over the television screen. There were two framed posters on the wall behind them. WELCOME TO DISNEYLAND in large boisterous letters over a smiling Mickey Mouse, most likely a souvenir from a trip. The other was a reproduction of Edvard Munch’s portrait of Friedrich Nietzsche with the philosopher’s famous pronouncement GOD IS DEAD in black text over the art. The brother who was standing grabbed a chair and smashed it against one of the pictures. The glass splintered diagonally and a large piece fell to the floor while the actual poster remained intact. He cut a tear into it with the sharp edge of the glass and held up the result: half a mouse and the torn NEYLAND had no meaning, so he moved on to the next poster. His brother walked into the bedroom to relieve himself.
The owner of the apartment was not a small man and was in excellent condition but he didn’t stand a chance. The brothers were simply too powerful.
Without allowing themselves to be derailed by his wild protests, they grabbed his head and forced him in front of the screen. The cover of the video had fallen to the floor. It claimed that the film was about the siege of Leningrad—false advertising unless one counted the introduction. His clothes were removed and a firm grip on his red hair made sure that he stared at the naked children.
“What is this? Can you answer me, you disgusting pervert?”
The unfortunate man answered as best he could but was not particularly convincing. In part because he had the handicap of the merciless grip on his neck.
“It’s not my video. I borrowed it from one of my friends who’s a cop. And I’ve never seen it before. Fuck, you know me.”
His last remark was regrettable. Neither of the two men wished to be reminded of their acquaintance.
“A cop. Since when did the police start lending out child pornography?”
The distrust was massive and impossible to overcome.
“You like little kids? Then we have something in common. I do too, just not in your way.”
A shockingly hard and brutal blow struck the man in the region of his kidneys and he screamed in pain. A kick that was aimed at his groin missed its mark and hit his thigh. The next one was more precise. The neighbor who lived one floor below called the police.
CHAPTER 36
The meeting in Lokale Viggo at the Dagbladet was postponed three times. The editor in chief was a busy man and Anni Staal had no choice other than to accept the delays with irritation and a hope that the new arrangement would hold. It got very late before it finally took place.
Along with Anni Staal in the meeting room were the editor in chief and the new senior legal counsel. An overhead projector displayed the contents of a computer on a large screen at one end of the table, and in the bottom right-hand corner it indicated a time of 10:41 P.M. A tray of sandwiches struggling not to dry out was placed before the three participants, but no one felt tempted. The editor in chief pried the cap off his beer with a little plop. He used his lighter. Anni nodded approvingly and he opened one more, then slid it over to her. Then the door opened and a man in his early sixties rushed in. He—the publisher and executive editor—tossed his coat onto a chair and sat down. He greeted each of them as he grabbed a beer. In contrast to his colleagues, he took a plastic cup and inspected it against the light before he ponderously poured himself a glass. Only when the glass was filled did he begin.
“Sorry for the delay but it wasn’t easy for me to get here. And, Anni, this had better be damn important. I can’t remember when I last attended a meeting without knowing the agenda and definitely not at this time of day.”
Anni Staal wasted no time.
“You can judge for yourself. This afternoon I received an anonymous e-mail from a sender by the name of Chelsea. I have no idea if this refers to the girl’s name, the city, or the soccer club. There was a video file attached to the e-mail. The whole video lasts about ten minutes and consists of smaller segments spliced together. You don’t have to be an expert to see that. On Monday I received another e-mail from the aforementioned Chelsea, also with an attached video file that I unfortunately at the time did not realize the significance of. We’ll see the video from Monday first, it won’t take long.”
No one else said anything and Anni started the video.
A face with a measuring gaze and a too-red mouth filled the screen. Anni Staal said, “This is taken inside a vehicle, probably a van, and I don’t think he knows he is being filmed.”