‘Some of you have been here from the start, but as we also have some new faces, I’m going to give you a full briefing. I would like to add that this briefing is available as a PDF file on the server, which will be up and running later today. We ask that you share all information, and by that I mean absolutely everything you discover in the course of the investigation; please upload it to the server so everyone has access to it. Things move faster this way and it makes it easier to write reports later.’
Munch hit a button on his laptop and the first slide of his PowerPoint presentation appeared. They were not the same photographs that had been on the front pages of the newspapers, the two doll’s dresses. These were of the missing girls wearing the same dresses and hanging from two separate trees. Gabriel Mørk had never seen anything like it. It was at this point he suddenly realized what he had signed up for. This was not a movie. This was not just another TV programme. This was real. The two little girls no longer existed. Someone had killed them. In real life. They were no longer breathing. They would never talk again. They would never smile again. They would never start school. Gabriel Mørk tried to stay calm and forced himself to look at the photographs, even though his stomach churned. He feared that he stood out enough as it was. Fainting during his first briefing would not look good.
‘Pauline Olsen and Johanne Lange,’ Munch said. ‘Both of them six years old. Due to start school this autumn. Pauline was reported missing four weeks ago. Johanne three weeks ago.’
More photographs, some maps.
‘Pauline disappeared from Skøyen Church Nursery and was found in Maridalen. Johanne disappeared from Lille Ekeberg Nursery and was found in Krokskogen, not far from Hadelandsveien. The times of their deaths have been difficult to pinpoint exactly, but evidence suggests that the girls were kept prisoner for a period of time before they were dressed in these costumes and left in a place where we would find them.’
Munch pressed the key on his computer again and fresh images appeared. Gabriel was unable to look at them and began glancing at the floor and at his shoes.
Dear God. What had he let himself in for? These girls were dead. In real life. The victims of some grotesque game.
He wished with all his heart he was back in his bed now; he felt that his life had changed in just a matter of minutes. He wished he had never seen these photographs. That he did not know that such people existed. People capable of such acts. Suddenly, he felt utterly despondent. He was overcome by a sadness he had never previously known. Of course, he knew that such things happened, and yet a part of him had refused to believe it. This was too unreal – no, it was far too real, it was reality bloody and brutal, that was what it was. Gabriel took a deep breath and concentrated very hard on sitting still.
‘There was no sign of sexual assault,’ Munch continued. ‘The girls had recently been washed, their nails trimmed and cleaned, their hair brushed. Both girls had a sign from Norwegian Airlines hanging around their neck. ‘I’m travelling alone.’ Both had satchels on their backs. Both were killed with an overdose of anaesthetics. There is no doubt that we are dealing with the same killer, and that both the abductions and the murders were carefully planned. Pauline was found by a man called Walter Henriksen – he has a record, but not for anything like this, two counts of driving under the influence some years ago – but we have no reason to think that he is involved. Johanne was found by two brothers, Tobias and Torben Iversen, aged thirteen and seven years old. The boys have a stepfather, Mikael Frank, who is also known to us. He served six months for minor offences, but again there is no reason to think that any of them is involved. Door-to-door inquiries carried out in the vicinity of the crime scenes have not produced many leads but, as you know, a car was spotted which might turn out to be of interest, a white Citro‘n, year unknown.’
Munch hit the keyboard again and the photographs from the newspapers appeared. Munch took a sip from a bottle of Farris mineral water on the desk and carried on.
‘The dresses are copies of doll’s clothes made especially to fit the girls. If the killer made them himself, we probably won’t get any useful leads from them, but there is a chance that he or she had the job done by a third party who did not know what the clothes were intended for. That’s why we went to the newspapers, in the hope that someone might recognize them. We haven’t heard anything so far, Anette, is that right?’
Munch turned to the blonde woman.
‘Nothing,’ Anette said. ‘But it’s early days yet.’
‘Absolutely.’ Munch nodded. ‘For those of you who don’t know, Anette is the link between us and Police Headquarters at Grønland. All communication with them must go through her; we don’t want any leaks our end. There’s a reason we’re hiding up here, isn’t that right, Kim?’
‘I thought it was so that you can smoke on the terrace?’
There was muffled laughter among the small gathering.
‘Thank you, Kim. Don’t get hit by the door on your way out. But, seriously, and I cannot stress this enough: we don’t talk to anyone. Not to the press. Not to our colleagues down at Grønland. Not to family, friends, wives, girlfriends, flatmates, mistresses or, in your case, Kim, your dog.’
There was scattered laughter once more. Gabriel Mørk looked around, he couldn’t see how anyone could laugh in these circumstances, but then it struck him that that was all they could do. Distance themselves emotionally. They had to detach themselves. If they didn’t, then they wouldn’t be able to think straight and do their job properly.
Don’t feel too much. Don’t get emotionally involved.
He took a deep breath and tried to join in the laughter, but did not manage to utter a sound.
‘What we know,’ Munch continued, ‘we keep to ourselves. We’ll get all the help we need. Just ask Anette over there. Whatever you want, talk to Anette. We’ve been allocated unlimited resources for this.’
‘What you mean by ìunlimitedî?’ Kim asked.
‘I mean no limits at all,’ Munch said. ‘Overtime, vehicles, tech, manpower – this investigation is not only a priority for us and Grønland, it’s a case which concerns the whole nation. The orders are coming from the highest level, and I’m not talking about Mikkelson.’
‘The justice secretary?’ asked one of the men whose name Gabriel did not think he had caught.
His head was shaved and he looked like a thug. He could easily play the villain in a movie.
‘Among others,’ Munch nodded.
‘The prime minister?’ the man continued.
‘The prime minister’s office has been informed,’ Munch said.
‘Isn’t this year an election year?’ The man with the shaved head grinned.
‘It’s always an election year, Curry.’ Kim smiled.
Curry. So that was his name. Gabriel had thought the man had said Kari.
‘I don’t give a toss what the two of you think about the prime minister,’ Munch went on in a more brusque tone of voice. ‘Those two girls could be our daughters, and we aren’t the only one who feel that way – the whole country does, look at the Net, at the news. We’re a nation in mourning, in shock. We’re not just solving this case to deliver justice to the girls’ families. It’s a state of emergency out there, people fear for their children’s lives, so I couldn’t care less where you stand politically, Curry: a united government is backing this investigation with unlimited resources. It isn’t our job to question political motives, we have to find the killer. That’s our job, do you understand?’
For a moment, the mood in the room was rather strained. Curry said nothing more, bowed his head slightly and played with his fingers in his lap. Gabriel had not seen this side of Munch yet. On the telephone and in his office he had seemed incredibly kind and calm, affable, like a big teddy. Now he looked more like a grizzly bear. Dark were his eyes and dark was his purpose. Slowly, he began to understand why Munch was the boss here, rather than any of the others.