‘Honestly, Julia, I don’t need to. I’d sooner write about that fucking Hedina woman for all eternity than foul my own nest as you’re suggesting.’
Julia gave her a brief smile before placing her forefinger thoughtfully to her bottom lip and looking at Mona.
‘Of course. You’re right. That was desperate of me. And wrong. There are certain boundaries you don’t cross.’
When she returned to her desk, Mona quickly read through the websites of the other newspapers, which could only do the same as her: write about the missing brain by referring to
After sending a 200-word piece to the online editor, who promptly put it out, she sat thinking about what Julia had said. Source. Have a hold over. She had once spoken to a journalist from a local paper who had called the metropolitan newspapers skuas because they skimmed through the smaller newspapers, pinched what they wanted and presented it as their own article, with the briefest possible reference to the local paper on the last line so no one could point a finger at them for breaking the rules of the game. Mona had googled ‘skua’ afterwards and discovered on Wikipedia that it was a bird, a so-called kleptoparasite, which stole prey from smaller birds by flying after them until they let go of their quarry.
Was it conceivable for something similar to be done with Terry Våge? She could do a little digging around the rumours about the attempted rape of Genie; that ought not to require more than a day’s work. Then she could approach Våge and tell him she would put it in print if he didn’t share his source in the Susanne case. Get him to let go of his prey. She thought about it. It did mean she would have to get in touch with the creep. And — if he did go along with it —
Then it was as if Mona Daa woke up, and she shuddered. What was she contemplating? She, self-appointed judge of the ethical standards of some poor blogger, a young girl who had only stumbled over a way to obtain attention, money and fame. Weren’t these perhaps things she herself might like?
Yes, but not like that, not by cheating.
Mona resolved to punish herself that afternoon with three extra sets of biceps curls after the deadlift sets.
Evening darkness had descended on Oslo. From the sixth floor of the Radium Hospital, Harry could gaze down on the motorway. Here, at the road’s most low-lying point, he could see the cars moving like a glow-worm at an angle up the hill, towards the motorway’s most elevated point, four and a half kilometres away, where the Rikshospital and the Forensic Medical Institute lay.
‘Sorry, Mona,’ he said, ‘I have no comment, the press release says what needs to be said. No, you can’t get the names of the others on the team, we prefer to work under the radar. No, I can’t speak about that, you’ll have to ask the police what they think themselves. I hear you, Mona, but, again, I have nothing further to add and I’m going to hang up now, OK? Give Anders my best.’
Harry slipped the newly purchased phone into the inside pocket of his suit and sat down again.
‘Sorry, it was a mistake saying yes to keeping my old Norwegian number.’ He placed his palms together. ‘But everyone present has been introduced and the case has been roughly outlined. Before we go any further, I suggest we name this team the Aune group.’
‘No, it’s not going to be named after me,’ Ståle Aune protested, pushing himself higher up in bed.
‘Apologies for the imprecise language,’ Harry said, ‘I’ve
‘Because?’ asked Øystein, sitting on a chair on the other side of the bed, facing Harry and Truls Berntsen.
‘Because this is our office from now on,’ Harry said. ‘The police are called the police because they’re located at Police HQ, aren’t they?’ No one responded. Harry glanced over at the other bed to make sure the vet hadn’t returned after leaving the room unprompted. Then he handed out three copies of stapled sheets from the printer in the business centre at the Thief.
‘This is a summary of the most important reports in the case so far, including the autopsy today. Everyone has a responsibility to make sure these papers don’t go astray. If they do, this guy is in trouble.’
He nodded in the direction of Truls, whose grunted laugh didn’t reach his eyes or any other part of his face.
‘Today, we’re not going to work systematically,’ Harry said. ‘I just want to hear your thoughts on the case. What kind of murder is it? And if you don’t have any thoughts, I’d like to hear them too.’
‘Bloody hell.’ Øystein grinned. ‘Is that what I’ve joined? A think tank?’
‘That’s where we’re starting anyway,’ Harry said. ‘Ståle?’
The psychologist folded two thin hands on top of the duvet. ‘Well. This makes for an entirely arbitrary gambit, but—’
‘Huh?’ Øystein said, looking pointedly at Harry.
