‘So the parasite can in principle be present in people?’
‘Not just in principle. In certain areas of the world it’s quite common for humans to be infected with the gondii parasite.’
‘And they are then sexually attracted to... eh, cats?’
Jibran laughed. ‘Not that I’ve heard of. Perhaps our psychologist knows something about that?’
‘I’m familiar with the parasite, so I should have made the connection,’ Aune said. ‘The parasite attacks the brain and the eyes, and there’s research to show that people with no history of mental problems begin to display abnormal behaviour. Not that they start carrying on with cats, but they do exhibit violence, directed primarily at themselves. There are numerous instances of suicide where it’s believed the parasite is to blame. I read in a research paper that the reaction times of people with the gondii parasite are diminished, and that the probability of them being involved in road accidents is three to four times greater. And there’s an interesting study showing that students with toxoplasmosis are more likely to become businessmen. They reasoned that this was due to an absence of fear of failure.’
‘Absence of fear?’ Harry said.
‘Yes.’
‘But not sexual attraction?’
‘What are you thinking?’
‘I’m thinking that the women didn’t just leave willingly, they went all the way across town or left a theatre production they liked to be with their killer. No signs of rape were found, and the footprints in the forest may indicate that they had their arms linked as they walked, like lovers.’
‘It’s the scent of the cat and cat’s urine that attracts infected mice,’ Jibran said. ‘Imagine, the parasite eats away at the mouse’s brain and eyes, while at the same time it knows it needs to return to the cat because it’s only within the bowels of the cat that the environment is conducive to reproduction. So it alters and manipulates the mouse’s brain to be attracted sexually by the smell of the cat. So that the mouse voluntarily helps the parasite return to the cat’s intestines.’
‘Holy shit,’ Truls said.
‘Yes, it’s gruesome,’ Jibran conceded. ‘But that’s how parasites function.’
‘Mm. Is it conceivable that the killer has taken on the role of the cat, as it were, after he’s infected them with the parasite?’
Jibran shrugged. ‘It’s perfectly conceivable that it’s a mutated parasite or that someone could breed a gondii parasite that requires human intestines as a primary host. I mean, in this day and age even a biology student can engage in gene manipulation on a cellular level. But you’d have to ask a parasitologist or a microbiologist about that.’
‘Thanks, but first we’ll hear what Al has to say.’ Harry checked the time. ‘Katrine said they were going to question him as soon as he’s had a chance to talk to the lawyer appointed to him.’
It was rare anyone at the Custody Unit dared to ask Duty Officer Groth the reason behind his chronically bad humour and ill temper. Those who had were now gone. His haemorrhoids, however, were not. They had been at the Custody Unit as long as Groth — for twenty-three years. He had been interrupted in the middle of a promising game of patience on the PC, and now winced in pain on the chair as he looked at the ID card the man in front of him had placed on the counter. The man had introduced himself as the lawyer for the prisoner arrested at Jernbanetorget earlier that day. Groth didn’t care much for lawyers in expensive suits, even less for ones like this, slumming it in a bomber jacket and wearing a flat cap like some dock worker.
‘Would you like an officer present in the room, Beckstrøm?’ Groth asked.
‘No thank you,’ the lawyer said. ‘And no one listening at the door either.’
‘He’s killed three—’
‘Suspected of having killed.’
Groth shrugged and pressed the button that opened the full-height turnstile. ‘The guard on the inside will search you and open the cell door.’
‘Thanks,’ the lawyer said, picking up his ID card and going through.
‘Idiot,’ Groth said, not bothering to look up from the PC screen to see if the lawyer had heard.
Four minutes later it was clear the game of patience wasn’t working out after all.
Groth swore, and just then heard someone clear their throat and saw a man wearing a face mask standing behind the full-height turnstile. Groth was momentarily taken aback before he recognised the flat cap and the bomber jacket.
‘That was a short conversation,’ Groth said.
‘He’s in pain, just bawling and wailing,’ the lawyer said. ‘You need to get him medical help, and then I’ll come back later.’
‘Oh, the doctor was just in there, but he couldn’t find anything the matter with him. The guy got painkillers, so I’m sure he’ll stop his wailing soon.’
‘He’s screaming like he’s about to die,’ the lawyer said, walking towards the exit. Groth watched him leave. Something wasn’t right but he couldn’t put his finger on it. He pressed the call button.
‘Svein, how are things in number 14? Is he still screaming?’
‘He was when I unlocked to let the lawyer in, but when I went to let the lawyer out he’d stopped.’
