“Bang! You’re dead.”
Malte Borup twirled around. “Hello, Anita. Where did you come from?”
“I dropped down from the heavens. You are a terrible police spy, you know, given how I can sneak up on you like that without any trouble.”
“I’m not a police spy.”
“Whatever. You wouldn’t last many hours. But come on, and remember that we’re a couple.” She put an arm around his waist and dragged him along.
It was a good eight hours since they’d been introduced to each other and it seemed to Anita that she had known him for years. She had had this feeling from the first time she laid eyes on him. That had happened at the McDonald’s at Strøget in Copenhagen.
She had already been seated when Arne Pedersen and Malte Borup turned up. As soon as she saw them she stood up and greeted them. Pedersen received a hug, much to his astonishment, then she turned to her new partner. He was cute.
She curtseyed coquettishly as she held her hand out. “I’m Anita Dahlgren, a newspaper intern. You must be the computer-spy genius.”
Malte Borup returned her greeting and appeared to accept this title: “Yes, that’s me. My name is Malte.”
They sat down and shared the three colas that the men had brought with them.
Pedersen prefaced his remarks with a warning: “You should both be clear about the fact that what you are doing is both illegal and done of your own initiative. That’s another way of saying that if you are caught then all hell will break lose and you should know that we will simply deny any involvement. It’s not fair, but that’s the way it is.”
The two young people nodded and Malte underscored this with a short “yes.” Anita sat with her hands under her chin and stared deeply into his eyes.
“How long will it take to do the installation?” she asked.
“One minute on the remote computer, ten minutes on your computer, and about one to five minutes for you to learn the program.”
“Probably more like thirty seconds. I’m quick.”
Pedersen had to poke her on the shoulder to regain eye contact. He asked, “How will you get in?”
“The plan is to use the door. That’s why we’re boyfriend and girlfriend. Can’t you remember what Kasper Planck said?”
Malte looked uncertainly at Pedersen. “Uh, boyfriend and girlfriend?”
Anita asked sharply, “Didn’t you tell him about it?”
“No, not really, I thought it would be better if you explained that part yourself. It would seem more real, but I can tell that you’re going to manage well on your own so I may as well push off right now. I was really only here to introduce the two of you to each other. You can split my cola-I haven’t touched it.”
He got up quickly and hurried away while Anita’s gaze bored through his jacket and burned him alive.
Malte tried again: “Uh, boyfriend and girlfriend?”
“Yes, you know-the kind that walk hand in hand and are all cutesy to each other. Do you have a girlfriend?”
“A girlfriend? No, I don’t.”
“That’s good. I don’t have one either. Now we’re a couple.”
“Uh, well. Yes. I mean, thanks…”
She smiled at him.
The doorman greeted them.
“Hello, Anita. It’s late, did you forget something?”
“Yes, I need to print a couple of files. You don’t happen to have an old guest card so that my boyfriend can come with me? I’m pretty fond of him and if he has to stay down here and freeze I might lose him.”
“You don’t need it, no worries. You can go right in.”
They strolled over to the elevators without hurrying. On the way up, Malte asked, “You don’t like your boss?”
“Not a bit. She’s just so… ugh, so bad, so obnoxious.”
“Ugh, so bad, so obnoxious?”
“Exactly.”
A short while later she added, “I’m hard core when it comes to language reform. You have to be if you’re going to be a journalist.”
He nodded seriously and she hit him in the side.
“That was a joke, stupid. Didn’t you get it?”
“No, I’m pretty slow on the uptake, apart from with technology.”
The next few minutes confirmed Malte’s claim and in only a few minutes his programs were installed on Anni Staal’s and Anita’s computers.
“It’s ready now, you’ll see. If you go into your browser and write ‘Garfield’ in the URL field-no WWW or HTTP or anything-just ‘Garfield,’ then the browser will show you the other computer’s screen and you’ll be able to see what she’s doing. If anyone comes by and you want to get out quickly, just hit the space bar. Are you following this?”
“Yes, absolutely. Garfield and space bar.”
“Exactly. If you write ‘Garfield dash code’ you’ll be able to see her ID and password but only after she’s logged in the next time. Remember that it is a dash and not a backslash. After that you’ll be able to log in as her. On your own machine and even when she’s on hers if you want to. Then you’ll be able to read her e-mail. Or send e-mails in her name.”
“Garfield dash-and-not-backslash code and I steal her ID and password.”
“Yes, that’s right. If you want to connect as her, you’ll shut down your own machine and restart while you have this CD in your drive. You won’t notice any difference but it will make sure that afterwards no one can tell which computer you used.”
“Boot up on the spy CD if I want to connect as her.”
“Yes, and then the last thing. If you hit Control Alt Escape, then my applications are erased and no one knows what you’ve been doing but of course that also means you can’t use the programs any longer. And you can’t undo it.”
“Control Alt Escape and I’ll be as pure as the driven snow.”
“Uh, that’s it.”
“That was quick.”
Anita jumped down from the desk and gave him a kiss that was not particularly quick.
“Why did you do that? There’s no one here.”
“Best to be on the safe side.”
She smiled sweetly at him and he returned it bashfully.
The clock at city hall rang out the bells for midnight over the city roofs and a new day began.
Chapter 66
Simonsen was vacuum cleaning. The meeting with Anni Staal was coming at as unlucky a time as possible as far as the appearance of his home. He had a housecleaner who came every other Sunday, which left him here and now with almost two weeks’ worth of clutter and dust, so if he wanted to appear decent to the many thousands of Dagbladet readers, the vacuum cleaner was the only option. The activity was abruptly interrupted when a sock invaded the mouthpiece and blocked the air intake, which he took as a clear sign from the higher authorities that all good things could be taken to excess. He stopped. There was no reason to go to the other extreme and end up being portrayed as pathologically clean.
Shortly after this the doorbell rang and the man from the hospital was outside.
“Good morning, Mr. Simonsen. Yes, things went more quickly than I thought. Your young co-worker is talented and with the right experience he will be very good in future but at this time you should let him finish his education.”
Simonsen stepped aside. The man walked in but stopped in the hall without making any gestures toward removing his outer clothing. He held out an envelope.
“We have found forty-one men who all more than once have contacted the National Hospital switchboard in the period from 2002 to 2005 and have lived in Trundholm County from 1965 to 1980. If we assume it is the same man, around the age of twenty-five to forty and that he has not been admitted to the National Hospital, the list can be reduced to four, of which one emigrated out of the country in the fall of 2005, so you may be able to eliminate him. But we included him because he has lived in the same village as your two murdered brothers. He is the first on the list.”