Forensic Med Inst have DNA and 80 % match.
Katrine read it again. Eighty per cent didn’t mean that the DNA profile matched eighty per cent — then you would have to include all mankind and every animal down to snails. Eighty per cent match in this context meant there was an eighty per cent chance they had the right person. She felt her heart rate soar. The journalist had been right about them not finding any evidence around the tree on Kolsåstoppen, so this was simply fantastic. Eighty per cent wasn’t one hundred per cent but it was... eighty per cent. And seeing as it was only midday they wouldn’t have had time to get a full DNA profile yet, so that figure could increase during the course of the day. But might it also decline? In fairness, she hadn’t taken in everything those times Alexandra had explained the finer points of DNA analysis. No matter, she just wanted to get up and rush out, not sit here feeding the vultures, not now they finally had a lead, a name! Someone they had in the database, probably with a previous conviction, or someone they had arrested at least. Someone...
A thought had crossed her mind.
Not Røed! Oh God, don’t let it be Røed again, she couldn’t face that rigmarole one more time. She had closed her eyes and realised it had gone quiet.
‘Bratt?’ It was Kedzierski’s voice.
Katrine opened her eyes, apologised and asked if the journalist could repeat the question.
‘The press conference has finished,’ Johan Krohn said. ‘Here’s what VG wrote.’
He handed Markus Røed the phone.
They were sitting in the back of an SUV on the way from the custody block to the apartment in Oslobukta. They had been allowed to leave via the subterranean tunnel to Police HQ to avoid the posse of journalists at the exit. Krohn had hired a car and people from a security company Røed had used before, Guardian. It had been done on the advice of Harry Hole and his rationale had been simple. Six people had at one point been in the same room with a few lines of green cocaine. Of these, three had been murdered by what increasingly seemed to be an insane serial killer. The likelihood of one of the three remaining people being next in line was not sky-high, but high enough for it to make good sense to hole up in a breach-proof apartment with bodyguards for a while. Røed had, after some deliberation, agreed. Krohn suspected the two bull-necked men in the front seats were inspired by the Secret Service in choice of suits, sunglasses and workout regimens. He was unsure if the reason the black off-the-peg suits appeared so tight was due to muscle mass or bulletproof vests. But he was sure that Røed was in good hands.
‘Ha!’ Røed exclaimed. ‘Listen...’
Krohn had of course read Daa’s column but could bear to hear it again.
‘Melling claims the release of Markus Røed isn’t embarrassing, and she’s right. It’s his being remanded in custody that’s embarrassing. Just as the Fraud Squad tarnished their reputation a few years ago by engaging in a desperate hunt of high-profile business leaders and captains of industry to acquire a feather for their hat, Melling’s department has fallen into the same trap. You can like Markus Røed or not, and you can swear to equality before the law, but there isn’t more justice in going harder out against Ebenezer Scrooge than Bob Cratchit. The time the police have wasted in the hunt for a big bear would have been better spent hunting down what this has all the earmarks of: a mentally disturbed serial killer.’
Røed turned to the lawyer.
‘Do you think that part about the bear is a pun on...?’
‘No.’ Johan Krohn smiled. ‘What are you going to do now?’
‘Good question, what am I going to do?’ Røed asked, handing Krohn back his phone. ‘What do released prisoners usually do? Party, of course.’
‘I would advise against that,’ Krohn said. ‘The eyes of the whole country are on you, and Helene...’ His voice trailed off.
‘Her body isn’t cold yet, you mean?’
‘Something like that. Besides, I’d like as little traffic as possible.’
‘Meaning?’
‘Meaning that you stay put in the apartment, just you and your two new friends. At least for the time being. You can work from there.’
‘Fine,’ Røed said, ‘but I’ll need a little something... to keep my spirits up. If you know what I mean.’
‘I think I do,’ Krohn sighed. ‘But can’t that wait?’
Røed laughed and laid a hand on Krohn’s shoulder. ‘Poor old Johan. You don’t have many vices but you probably haven’t had too much fun either. I promise not to take any chances. I do actually want to keep this beautiful, unique...’ He drew a circle over his head.
‘Good,’ Johan said, and looked out the window, at the strict yet playful design of the Barcode buildings that had brought Oslo into this century. He dismissed the thought that had been in his mind for a fraction of a second. That he would not have mourned very long if Markus Røed were to be decapitated.
‘Shut the door behind you, please,’ Bodil Melling said as she stepped out from behind her desk.
Katrine closed the door behind her and Harry, and sat down at the table where Sung-min was already in place.
‘What do we have?’ Melling said, sitting at the end.
She was looking directly at Katrine, but Katrine nodded towards Harry, who was still getting settled in his chair.
‘Well,’ Harry said, pausing until he had found his preferred, half-lying position. Katrine saw the impatience on the Chief Superintendent’s face. ‘The Forensic Medical Institute called me and—’
‘Why you? If they have something to report then they ought to ring the detective leading the investigation.’
‘Maybe so,’ Harry said. ‘Anyway, they said—’
‘No, I want this cleared up first. Why didn’t they contact the lead detective?’
Harry grimaced, stifled a yawn and looked out the window as though the question were immaterial.
‘It was perhaps not formally correct,’ Katrine said. ‘But they called the individual who in effect has been leading this investigation, in the sense of being at the forefront. Can we move on?’
The two women’s eyes met.
Katrine was aware that what she had said — and the way she had said it — could be perceived as provocative. And maybe it was. So what? This wasn’t the time for office politics and pissing contests. And perhaps Melling realised that too. In any case, she gave Katrine a curt nod.
‘OK, Bratt. Go on, Hole.’
Harry nodded in the direction of the window as though he’d had a silent conversation with someone outside and turned to the others again.
‘Mm. Pathology found a skin fragment between Bertine Bertilsen’s teeth. According to the post-mortem technicians, it was so loose that it would have disappeared had she rinsed her mouth or brushed her teeth, so it’s reasonable to assume it ended up there just prior to death. For example, by her biting her killer. There is a preliminary profile with a very likely match in the database.’
‘Criminal?’
‘Not convicted, but yes.’
‘How high is the probability?’
‘High enough to merit arrest,’ Harry said.
‘In your opinion. We can’t afford to make yet another arrest where the press—’
‘This is our man.’ Harry said it in a low voice, but the words seemed to resound in the room.
Melling shifted her gaze to Katrine, who nodded.