Seen from that perspective, working with the head of the Violent Crimes section, Detective Superintendent Agnes Finckenhagen, was a pretty straightforward business. She was a bag of bones about his own age, with a crooked nose and thin lips. Nina Jebsen’s question had been directed at her. Now Finckenhagen’s mouth narrowed even further. Viken had long ago worked out that this was a sign she was trying to appear authoritative.
– We’ve had a wildlife expert up there, she said. – He confirms what we already suspected. She flashed a quick smile at Arve Norbakk, who was sitting directly opposite her round the table. – That is, that the murdered woman, Hilde Sofie Paulsen, has injuries consistent with those inflicted by a bear.
Viken adopted a look of relaxed inscrutability as Finckenhagen spoke. The case had been well handled, and she had praised him before the meeting. Taking Arve Norbakk up to the scene had been a smart move. The sergeant had experience with attaching radio transmitters to bears and was as qualified as any expert to identify the wounds on the deceased and the tracks found nearby. From the moment the body had been found they had been in control of the situation, and they had been firm in dealing with the press. Viken had discreetly reminded Finckenhagen that he was the one who had recommended Norbakk when he applied to join their section and that, probably as a result of this, he had been given the job ahead of people with a longer record of service.
– If it was an animal that did this, then surely we can take responsibility for tracking it down, suggested Inspector Sigmundur Helgarsson with a grin in Norbakk’s direction. – There’s others can hunt here besides Arve.
– Excellent idea, Sigge, Viken responded tonelessly. – I imagine you grew up hunting polar bears.
– Do they have polar bears in Iceland? Nina Jebsen wanted to know.
Finckenhagen raised both hands.
– Let’s drop the macho stuff, shall we. This is a deeply tragic case, it’s a very special case, and it’s going to be headline stuff all week. We don’t yet have a cause of death, but as of this moment there’s been no talk of transferring the case formally. Let’s hope it goes to the Crime Response Unit and not us.
Viken wasn’t all that convinced she really meant what she said. For some reason or other she had already been interviewed in VG and Dagbladet, and she had an appointment with TV2 later in the day. The uniform she was wearing had been freshly ironed, and if she’d had time she would probably have spent the morning at the hairdresser’s having something done about those wisps. None of the higher-ups have any doubt about my qualities as a leader, he thought. Not just on the technical side, but also in dealing with people. Finckenhagen had got the senior post for which they’d both applied for a very different reason. He gave her a disarming smile. Enjoy it while you can, Slinkenhagen.
Arve Norbakk sat up straighter in his chair. His eyes were brown below the fair fringe. They were quite large and round and gave the impression of someone mild and cautious, but Viken knew the sergeant could be tough enough. He’d noticed how Nina Jebsen, and Finckenhagen too for that matter, changed whenever Arve was around. They moved in another way, their voices went up a touch. He didn’t object to it at all.
– I’m certain this isn’t a matter for Hunting and Fishing, said Norbakk.
– Are you? asked Finckenhagen. – How so?
He looked to be thinking before he continued.
– Those tracks up there, they were reasonably fresh.
– You don’t say, Hawkeye? Helgarsson grinned.
– Cut it out, Sigge, warned Viken. – Let Arve finish what he’s saying.
– Paulsen has been missing for a week and a half, Norbakk noted. – But the tracks we found aren’t as old as that.
– In other words, said Viken, who had already discussed this with Norbakk, – it looks like we aren’t done with this case after all.
He went on:
– We’ve got to keep our eyes on the doughnut and not the hole. And anyway, how many of us here really believe there’s a killer bear wandering around up there in the marka?
Finckenhagen blinked a few times.
– Let’s wait until we have the pathologist’s report, she said.
Viken didn’t smirk. He knew she always used phrases like that when she didn’t have anything sensible to say.
18
STILL ANOTHER THREE quarters of an hour before the office opened. Axel Glenne usually managed to get a lot of work done in the time before the patients arrived. Go through the mail, finish off the referrals. He turned on the computer. While he waited for it to load up, he looked again at Aftenposten. MISSING WOMAN FOUND DEAD was the front-page headline. Tragic accident, it said underneath. Body lay in forest for ten days.
He put the paper aside. Opened a letter from the surgical department with an appointment for Cecilie Davidsen’s operation. They’d been quick; he hadn’t needed to send them a reminder. Given what they’d found, there was no time to lose. He remembered that he’d dreamt about her. He’d opened the door of a house he recognised. The villa in Vindern. He hadn’t rung, just gone right in. It was dark inside, but he heard sounds coming from the floor above, a woman groaning. I shouldn’t be here: the thought flashed through him as he started to climb the stairs. Someone was following him; he sensed a shadow but couldn’t turn round.
He looked through his list of patients again. Had to be finished by four. He hadn’t visited his mother last week. Hadn’t been back since she got him mixed up with Brede.
He found an updated article on whiplash injuries in the online edition of The Lancet. He wanted to give Miriam the best possible advice regarding the case she was handling. If she even showed up today… Was he hoping she would still be off sick? So he wouldn’t have to say anything about the visit to her flat the Monday before? Wouldn’t have to joke about it. Or apologise. Maybe that was why she’d stayed away all week.
At 7.40, he heard Rita let herself into the office. A few moments later, he went in.
– New week, new possibilities, she said, without conviction.
– You heard the news, he said.
She nodded.
– It’s the most awful thing I ever heard. Imagine that, Axel, a bear.
His eyebrows shot up.
– A bear?
– Didn’t you hear? she exclaimed, holding up VG. Half the front page was covered with the words: TORN APART BY BEAR IN NORDMARKA. There was an indistinct photograph, white-clad figures stooped over a body on the ground.
– It’s just the kind of thing VG writes, Rita. It’s not possible. Not in the Nordmarka.
– I suggest you read the whole thing. The police say there’s no doubt.
He flipped through the ten pages devoted to the case.
– I met her up there. Just before she disappeared.
– My God! Why didn’t you mention it before?
He peered out into the waiting room, where the first patient had taken a seat, a retired officer who had known his father.
– There’s been so much going on, Rita.
He heard Miriam talking to Rita outside reception. Shortly afterwards, she came along the corridor, past his door, and opened the door to Ola’s office. Axel opened the retired lieutenant colonel’s notes. Checked the lab tests. His haemoglobin concentration had fallen since the last time it was tested. He heard Miriam’s steps approaching again. He looked at some of the patient’s other results. There was a knock on the door, which was ajar. He cleared his throat, but before he managed to say anything, she was standing there. He scrolled down to the bottom of the document and looked at the last readings before glancing up. Beneath her coat, she was wearing the top with her name on it.