‘OK,’ Mikkel said, and rang off.
He walked back to the cordons and tried to get a handle on the situation. The police had cordoned off the whole street, not just one of the houses. Munch and Krüger were in Disen, and Krüger might be coming up here now. It had to be something major. It had to be several girls. Two at the same time? That would be tomorrow’s front page. He would bet on it. He looked around the street, trying to see if there was a gap he could sneak through. Surely there had to be another way in? He went back to the spot where he had got out of the taxi. Should he stay where he was, or try to explore? He was interrupted by his mobile ringing again. This time, the number had been withheld.
‘Hello. Mikkel here.’
There was total silence at the other end.
‘This is Mikkel Wold. Who is this?’
He covered his other ear with his hand in order to hear better. Many people had arrived by now; the area was filling up with cars and curious passers-by.
‘It’s not fair, is it?’
A strange voice in his ear. It grated: there was some kind of distortion; he did not recognize the caller.
‘Who is this?’ he said again.
‘It’s not fair, is it?’ the voice repeated.
Wold moved further away from the crowd, crossed the street and found a quieter location.
‘What’s not fair?’ he asked.
Again there was silence at the other end.
‘Hello?’
Wold could feel himself growing irritated.
‘Hello? Listen, whoever you are, I haven’t got time for this.’
‘It’s not fair, is it?’ the strange voice said again.
‘What’s not fair? Who is this?’
‘It’s not fair that you have to stand so far away,’ the voice said.
At that moment, a red Peugeot arrived. Mikkel caught a glimpse of Mia Krüger and one of her colleagues. The Peugeot drove up to the cordon and was let in by a police officer who was guarding it.
‘Damn!’ Mikkel said.
Where was the photographer? He needed pictures of this.
‘Listen, find someone else to pester,’ he snarled down the phone. ‘I’m busy.’
He was just about to hit the off button when the grating voice came back.
‘Number three,’ the voice said.
‘What do you mean?’
‘It’s number three,’ the voice said again. ‘Her name is Karoline. Are you still going to hang up?’
With this, the caller got Mikkel Wold’s full attention.
‘Who are you?’
‘Donald Duck. Who do you think I am?’ the voice mocked him.
‘No, I meant…’
The voice laughed briefly.
‘Do you want me to call one of the others? Tønning from Dagbladet? Ruud from VG? One of those?’
‘No, no, no Ö eh, no, no,’ Mikkel Wold said. ‘I’m right here.’
He retreated even further from the crowd.
‘That’s good,’ the voice said.
Mikkel tried to get out his notepad and pen from his pocket.
‘Are you going to be my friend?’ the grating voice said.
‘Perhaps,’ Mikkel replied.
‘Perhaps?’
‘Yes, I would like to be your friend,’ he stuttered. ‘Who is Karoline?’
‘Who do you think Karoline is?’
‘Is she… Number three?’
‘No, Karoline is number four. Andrea was number three. Don’t you pay attention? Haven’t you been to Disenveien?’
Something was happening over by the cordons. Another vehicle was on its way in. Forensics.
‘How do I know that…’
‘How do you know what?’ the voice said.
‘I mean…’
Mikkel was unable to think of anything else to say. His forehead was hot and his palms were sweaty.
‘They’re so cute when they’re asleep, aren’t they?’ the voice said.
‘Who is?’
‘The little ones.’
‘How do I know that you’re not just messing with me?’
‘Do you want me to send you a finger in the post?’
Mikkel Wold felt a shiver down his spine. He was trying to keep calm, but it was getting harder.
‘No, absolutely not,’ he stammered.
The voice chuckled to itself again.
‘You have to ask the right questions,’ the voice said.
‘What do you mean?’
‘At press conferences, why don’t you ask the right questions?’
‘What are the right questions?’ Wold said.
‘Why did the pig drip all over the floor?’ the voice said.
‘Why did the…? What did you say…?
Mikkel tried desperately to get out his notepad without dropping his mobile.
‘Tick-tock,’ said the grating voice, and the call was ended.
Chapter 32
Holger Munch peeled off the thin latex gloves and went outside on the terrace to have a cigarette. Christ Almighty, what a start to the day. He had slept badly the night before, tossing and turning in his bed. He had yet to discuss this business about the inheritance with his mother, and he had an uncomfortable feeling that it might be the very problem that was keeping him awake, when they had more important matters to deal with. Two girls in one day? He lit his cigarette and peered into the house through the window. The crime-scene technicians were still at work and the girl’s father had been driven down to Police Headquarters in Grønland. They had yet to trace the mother; the father had been in shock and had made little sense. It would appear that the two of them were no longer together: they had separated, it was his week with the daughter; the mother had gone with some female friends to a cabin where there was no mobile coverage. The doors of the French windows to the terrace had been smashed. There were traces of blood on the ground floor, on the stairs and in the little girl’s bedroom. Andrea. Someone had taken her from her bedroom. Munch took a deep drag on his cigarette and tried to fight off a budding headache. He rang Mia. She answered after only a few seconds.
‘What have you got?’ Munch asked her.
‘Karoline Mykle, aged six, missing from her home.’
‘Any sign of a break-in?’
‘No, the key was under the mat.’
Dear Lord. Munch heaved a sigh. Under the mat. Did people still do that these days?
‘Blood?’
‘Traces of blood from the passage and into the bedroom.’
‘Parents?’
‘Cecilie and John-Erik Mykle. Neither of them has a record. He works on the oil rigs. We’re trying to contact him. She’s a teacher.’
‘A teacher?’
‘Yes, but it’s not her. She’s in a state of complete shock. I’ve sent her off to Ullevål Hospital. She didn’t even know where she was. She kept saying she didn’t have time to talk to us. She had to take Karoline to nursery.’
‘I see,’ Munch said.
‘We’re about to start door-to-door inquiries to see if anyone saw anything.’
‘Yes, that’s what we’re about to do as well,’ Munch said.
‘ALPHA1 procedure on this one?’
Munch nodded.
‘Holger?’
‘What? Yes, I want everyone working on this. Everyone. And when I say everyone, I mean everyone. I want them to check every single road, every sodding footpath, understand?’
‘Understand,’ Mia said, and ended the call.
Holger took another deep drag on his cigarette. His headache had arrived with a vengeance. Some water. He needed fluids. And food. His mobile rang again.
‘Yes, Munch here.’
‘It’s Gabriel Mørk. Is it a bad time?’
‘Depends what it is,’ Munch growled.
‘You know that private job you gave me?’
Munch rubbed his forehead.
‘The code,’ Gabriel continued.
Munch sifted through his memories before the penny dropped. The maths puzzle he had been unable to solve. The one the Swedish girl had sent him on the Net.
‘Did you crack it?’
Munch walked back inside the house. He took care not to contaminate any of the bloodstains or touch anything. The technicians were still at work.