‘Obviously, as a Labour Party man I’m all in favour of equality,’ Bellman said. ‘And of course the Department of Justice wants the police to have as good working conditions as possible. But I’m not so sure we can expect a very sympathetic response among...’ he searched for a different word to the giveaway ‘voters’ — ‘the public in general if we impede one of the few renowned investigators we have. Especially when he wants to tackle a case in which your departments have made so little headway. And, yes, you’re right, Winter. There are no laws which proscribe what Røed and Hole are doing. But you can always hope that Hole does what he eventually always did in my time.’
He looked at the bemused expressions on the faces of Melling and Winter.
‘Break the rules,’ Bellman said. ‘All you need to do is watch him closely, then I’m fairly certain you’ll see it happen. Send me a report when it does, and I’ll personally make sure he’s frozen out.’ He glanced at his Omega Seamaster watch. Not because he had another meeting, but to show that this one was over. ‘Does that sound OK?’
On their way out they shook his hand as though he had gone along with their suggestion and not the other way round. Mikael had that effect. He smiled and held eye contact with Bodil Melling a half-second longer than necessary. Not because he was interested, more out of habit. And noticed that she’d finally got a bit of colour in her face.
The more interesting portion of humanity
‘We learn to lie as children between the ages of two and four, and by the time we’ve reached adulthood, we’ve become experts,’ Aune said, adjusting his pillow. ‘Believe me.’
Harry saw Øystein grin and Truls frown in confusion. Aune went on.
‘A psychologist called Richard Wiseman believes most of us tell a lie or two each day. Proper lies, that is, not just white, your-hair-looks-lovely lies. What are the chances of us being found out? Well, Freud contended that no mortal could keep a secret, that if the lips are sealed, then the fingertips chatter. But he was wrong. Or rather, the listener isn’t capable of sorting through the different ways a liar gives themselves away, because they vary from person to person. That’s why a lie detector was needed. They had one in China three thousand years ago. The suspected criminal had his mouth filled with grains of rice and was asked if he was guilty. If he shook his head, he was asked to spit out the rice, and if any grains remained in his mouth, the logic was that it was dry due to his being nervous, and therefore guilty. Useless, of course, because you could, after all, be nervous due to fear of becoming nervous. And similarly useless is the polygraph which John Larson invented in 1921, and is, in principle, the lie detector in use to this very day, even though everyone knows it’s a piece of junk. Even Larson regretted inventing it in the end, calling it his Frankenstein monster. Because it
Truls snorted.
‘But God knows if he was guilty,’ Aune said. ‘That’s why I prefer the method they used in ancient India.’
The door opened, and Sethi and his bed were wheeled in by two nurses.
‘Listen, Jibran, you’ll like this too,’ Aune said.
Harry had to smile. Aune, the most popular lecturer at Police College, holding forth again.
‘The suspects were admitted one by one into a room that was pitch-dark, and told to feel their way in the darkness until they found a donkey which was standing in there and then to pull it by the tail. If they’d lied under questioning the donkey would shriek or bray or whatever it is donkeys do. Because this particular donkey was, the priest informed them, a holy donkey. What he didn’t tell them was that the tail was smeared with soot. So when the suspects came back out and said that, yes, they had pulled the donkey’s tail, all they needed to do was check their hands. If they were clean, it meant the person had been afraid the donkey would expose the fact he had lied, and he was sent to the gallows or whatever they used in India at the time.’
Aune glanced over at Sethi, who had taken out a book, but nodded ever so slightly.
‘And if he had soot on his hands,’ Øystein said, ‘then all it meant was the guy wasn’t a complete moron.’
Truls grunted and slapped his thighs.
‘The question,’ Aune said, ‘is whether Røed walked out of there with soot on his hands or not.’
