‘As you can all see, Mia is back,’ Munch continued, in his usual pleasant mood this time.
‘Hello again,’ said Mia Krüger, who had been sitting quietly during the whole presentation but who now got up and walked up to the screen.
There was scattered applause and the odd whistle from the room.
‘Thank you, everyone. It’s good to be back.’
Gabriel glanced furtively at Mia; he was frightened of looking at her too often, scared that he would not be able to stop staring. It was all getting too much for him. Pauline and Johanne hanging dead from the trees, and now Mia Krüger herself was standing only a few metres away from him. Gabriel Mørk was not the only person who had a crush on Mia Krüger. Mia Krüger had her own fan pages on Facebook. Or perhaps she didn’t these days, he wasn’t quite sure, but she used to have. He had considered ‘liking’ some of them but, as a hacker, Gabriel Mørk knew that all your online activity could be traced down to a single click, so he was very careful with anything he did. Rumours had it that Mia Krüger had set out to shoot and kill her sister’s boyfriend, a junkie; the newspapers had been all over the case for a few weeks, until it had been overtaken by other events. He believed the final police report had concluded that Mia Krüger had done nothing wrong but, even so, she had clearly been away for a while.
The skinny girl with the jet-black hair was wearing a black-and-white roll-neck jumper and tight black trousers with zips on the thighs. She looked exhausted, her eyes were dull, and she was much thinner than she had looked in the photographs in the papers. Mia Moonbeam. That was what they had called her on the Net. It was taken from a cartoon Gabriel did not know, it was before his time, but he believed it was called ‘The Silver Arrow’. One of the characters had been a very beautiful Native American girl, Moonbeam, and during the 1980s all the boys were supposed to have had a secret crush on her.
Even so, he couldn’t help staring at her. Mia Krüger. There were not many famous Norwegian crime investigators, perhaps that explained it. A beautiful, young, talented, blue-eyed Norwegian girl who look like an American Native, caught up in a huge scandaclass="underline" perfect tabloid fodder. He couldn’t help feeling a little sorry for her now. She really did look exhausted. Her thin legs ended in a pair of big biker boots with buckles that rattled whenever she moved. She wore a silver charm bracelet around one wrist and a leather cord around the other. In chat forums on the Net, stories had been circulating about both items. The silver bracelet was supposedly a present from her sister, who had died from a drugs overdose. She was said to have taken the leather cord from a Latvian man who was suspected of having murdered a young girl he had trafficked to Norway as a sex slave. It had been early in her career, and the Latvian man had made her feel sorry for him. She had allowed him to be interviewed without being handcuffed. He had attacked her with a craft knife concealed in one of his boots. With blood all over her face, she had managed to overpower him, and then used his own craft knife to cut the leather cord off his wrist. It was said that she wore it to remind herself never to be weak. She had almost lost an eye in the attack. Gabriel could see the scar from where he was sitting. Rumours and stories. He didn’t know if any of it was true but, even so, it was fascinating. Now she was standing right here in front of him. And they would be working together.
Mia Krüger hugged herself with one arm and spoke softly and cautiously; Gabriel had to strain to hear what she was saying.
‘Most of you already know everything that we know. We’re going to take a look at a few things you don’t know about, which we believe are important.’
Mia pressed a key on Holger’s laptop and another photograph appeared on the screen.
‘The girls wore satchels when they were found. The satchels contained schoolbooks. A name had been written on the cover of the books. On Johanne Lange’s books, it said ìJohanne Langeî. However, on Pauline’s books, it said “Toni J. W. Smith”.’
Another photograph on the screen.
‘Why?’
Mia Krüger smiled briefly.
‘Thanks, Curry, just as patient as always. Good to see you again.’
‘Let Mia finish,’ Munch said irritably.
‘So, on Johanne’s books it said ìJohanne Langeî. On Pauline’s books, however, it said Toni J. W. Smith. As you can see, nothing in these cases is accidental. Everything seems to be planned down to the last detail. The killer knew what he was doing, he knew the girls’ names, we have reason to think that he watched them for a long time before he abducted them – and we’ll get back to that later – but as I was saying…’
Mia Krüger stopped for a moment, cleared her throat and hugged herself more tightly. Munch got up and offered her his mineral-water bottle. Mia shook her head and continued in a low voice.
‘As everyone knows, there’s no doubt that these two cases are connected, but we now have reason to believe they are also connected to a third case, a case some years ago we didn’t manage to solve.’
She pressed a key on the computer again.
‘In 2006, a baby disappeared from Hønefoss Hospital. A few weeks later, a Swedish nurse called Joachim Wicklund was found hanging in his bedsit. On the floor below his body we found a typed note where he takes responsibility for the kidnapping. The baby was never found. The case was shelved.’
Mia Krüger stopped again. Decided to drink some mineral water after all. She was not in good shape. Everyone could see that. The normally fit and healthy woman was trembling slightly; it looked as if she was struggling to make her head work properly.
‘Holger and I,’ she continued after a short pause, ‘are convinced that the name on Pauline’s book, ìToni J. W. Smithî, is a message from the killer. We’re still not sure why he did it, but we think that J. W. is short for Joachim Wicklund, and that Toni Smith is an anagram: ìit’s not him.î’
Low murmuring in the room. It was clear that everyone had huge respect for Mia Krüger and her brain.
Munch took over again.
‘As a result, we’re reopening the Hønefoss investigation. Everything we discovered back then must be reviewed; every interview, every observation and any names linked to that case must be revisited. I want you to take charge of this, Ludvig, because you worked with us back then, and take Curry with you, because he didn’t. A pair of old eyes and a pair of fresh ones, that would be good, I think.’
Both the older man called Ludvig and the man with the shaved head, Curry, who had been so eager to comment on politicians, nodded.
‘So that’s our first lead – Hønefoss 2006 – Ludvig and Curry. Our second lead: the dresses. Anette will coordinate any tip-offs received by Grønland and go over them with Mia and me. Ex-offenders and other likely suspects Ö’
Holger looked up again.
‘Kyrre?’
A tall slim man with short black hair and large glasses looked up from his notes.
‘Yes. Trond and I are on it, but it’s not a long list. What we have so far are sex offenders, assault cases. To be quite honest, I’m not really sure what we’re looking for. Have we seen anything like this before? I mean, seriously? Not me, certainly. We have cross-referenced our lists with our friends down in Europe, especially, in Belgium, with the names of everyone associated with Marc Dutroux, but again, that case involved serious sexual assaults, quite unlike this one. To tell you the truth, our colleagues abroad are shaking their heads at us, but we’ll keep looking, of course.’
‘Good.’ Munch nodded. ‘Oh, I forgot to tell you. We have a new database system, which will be up and running later today. Everything we enter – names, observations, anything at all – will immediately be cross-referenced against all other available databases, ours and anyone else’s; if anyone experiences any problems making it work, please talk to Gabriel Mørk, our new nerd. Have you all met Gabriel?’