“You don’t have any plans to leave Copenhagen now, do you?” asked Bj?rn.
Patrick shook his head. “First you tell me I can’t leave Denmark and now you’re saying I can’t leave Copenhagen. What’s next? That I can’t leave my apartment?”
Bj?rn attempted a smile and waved him away.
When he had gone, Bj?rn took his phone out of his pocket.
“Lis!” he said. “Get everyone together who’s in the building and send them down here. Yes, now, I said! Yes, yes, I know it’s late. Yes, down to Carl!”
Then he turned toward Carl. “Two questions. Do you have any idea who the hit-and-run driver might be?”
Carl shook his head.
“That’s a damn shame. But do you know then where the woman in question, Denise Zimmermann, is?”
“No, we don’t know that either. We haven’t had time to focus very much on that yet. But according to her mother, she’s not staying at her address. She said she believes Denise is staying with a lover in Slagelse.”
Bj?rn sighed heavily. “I don’t damn well know how I should deal with you and your team. I’m going to the bathroom and will consider the situation while I’m gone.”
Carl scratched his stubble and nodded to Assad as he came in with Bj?rn’s coffee. “We’ll have to wait an hour before we drive over to Rose’s place. We need to brief all the fools from the second floor first. They’re on their way down here now.”
“Okay. And then what, Carl? Is Bj?rn getting ready to come down on us?”
“You never know what the vicious sod might come up with.”
Assad laughed and managed to make Gordon laugh too. “He might be vicious, but at least he’s fair.”
“How do you mean, Assad?”
“He’s equally vicious toward everyone.”
43
Monday, May 30th, 2016
“I’m starving, Carl. Can’t you find somewhere I can get something to eat on the way to Stenl?se?”
Carl nodded. He wasn’t hungry at all. As long as the situation with Rose was occupying his mind, he had no appetite whatsoever.
He started the car, and the radio news came on.
“Well, I’ll be damned. They’re certainly making sure everyone knows we’re looking for Denise,” said Carl. Never before had the search for a witness been so extensive. All the TV and radio news channels were broadcasting the call for information, so Lars Bj?rn and Janus Staal really wanted to get ahold of her. But what the heck: If they could succeed in solving three cases at once, it wouldn’t be all bad.
Assad’s cell was ringing faintly.
“It’s for you,” he said and put it on speakerphone.
“Yes, this is Carl M?rck,” he said to someone coughing loudly on the other end.
“Yes, sorry, Carl,” said the voice. “But since I quit smoking, I’ve been coughing constantly.”
It was Marcus Jacobsen.
“As agreed, I’ve now looked into the circumstances surrounding Birgit Zimmermann’s husband and found some information about him that I think you’ll find interesting. Should I tell you now?”
Can’t it wait until tomorrow? thought Carl. It was already late and he was exhausted.
“We’re on our way out of town just now, so fire away,” he said anyway.
Marcus cleared his throat. “James Lester Frank was born in 1958 in Duluth, Minnesota, and married Birgit Zimmermann in 1987, the year before Denise Frank Zimmermann was born. The couple was separated in autumn 1995 and divorced a few months later. The mother won custody of Denise Zimmermann, and the father moved back to the US in the same year.”
Carl squinted. When would he get to the interesting part?
“I also know that he then rejoined the military and did several tours of Iraq and later Afghanistan. In 2002, he disappeared during a mission where two of his soldiers lost their lives. They thought he was dead, but then he was recognized by a liaison officer in Istanbul, triggering a search for him as a deserter.”
Sounds like a sensible man, thought Carl. Who wouldn’t rather be on the run than dead?
And then he came to the point.
“About a month ago, a certain Mark Johnson collapsed on the street and was brought to Herlev Hospital with a completely explosive liver count. They also found out that a number of his organs had more or less stopped functioning. The doctors were very direct in telling him that the effects of his alcohol intake had reached a level from which few people survived.”
“Mark Johnson? Was he the man who recognized Frank in Turkey?” asked Carl.
“No. But I’ll get to that. Mark Johnson was of course asked to identify himself, and when he couldn’t the police were called.”
“A bit harsh given the man was so ill,” interjected Assad.
“Yes, you could say that. But the fact is they need to know who they are writing about for their medical records, Assad.”
“Of course. And then what happened?” asked Carl.
“They found a number of tattoos on the guy and most importantly a meat tag tattooed under one arm, which they used to identify him.”
“What’s a meat tag?” asked Carl.
“It’s a dog tag tattooed directly on the skin, Carl,” said Assad.
“Correct,” said Marcus. “It states the soldier’s surname and first name, as well as a middle initial if they have one. And in this case because the man was part of the US Army, also his Department of Defense ID number, blood type, and religion. Many soldiers had tattoos like that done back then before being stationed on the front line. Nowadays, I believe the US Army has a different tattoo policy, so I’m not sure they’re still allowed. But for those soldiers who got them, it meant they could be identified if they died in service and had lost their dog tags.”
“And this meat tag showed that he was James Lester Frank?” asked Carl.
“Exactly. ‘Frank L. James,’ which means that Birgit Zimmermann’s ex-husband is alive—albeit it would seem not for long. He’s been discharged from the hospital and of all places is living in the apartment above the shop that used to be Fritzl Zimmermann’s shoe shop in R?dovre. And, wait for it, the apartment is still listed as belonging to none other than Rigmor Zimmermann.”
“So, he’s in Denmark now?”
Assad looked totally confused. “Marcus, I don’t get it. I’ve been through every possible register and couldn’t find him. The man isn’t registered in the country.”
“No, because he’s been living here illegally since 2003 under the false name Mark Johnson. I would’ve liked to know this back when we investigated the Stephanie Gundersen murder.”
“Why wasn’t he arrested at the hospital, Marcus?” asked Carl.
“Yeah, I don’t know. Maybe because the man is terminally ill and won’t run anywhere. Of course immigration is looking into the case because the police handed over the case when they were done questioning him. Current protocol means that you don’t immediately deport a person who is in such bad health. And immigration cases take a long time under normal circumstances, but they are also dealing with a backlog—just try for yourself to get ahold of someone.”