‘Hello, again,’ the metallic voice said.
There was total silence around the table.
‘I’m very excited,’ the voice said. ‘What did you decide?’
None of them was capable of uttering a single word.
‘Is anyone there?’ the voice asked.
Silje looked at Grung, who looked at Erik, who looked at Mikkel Wold, who looked at his fingers.
The metallic voice cackled.
‘Has the cat got your tongue? I need an answer now. Time is running out. Tick-tock.’
Erik Rønning cleared his throat.
‘We…’
‘Andrea?’ the chilling voice asked. ‘Or Karoline? Who gets to go home? One girl dies, one girl lives. How hard can it be?’
‘They both live,’ Silje sobbed.
The metallic voice laughed again.
‘Oh no, Miss Olsen, that’s not how we play. One lives, one dies. You get to decide who lives and who dies. It feels good, doesn’t it? Being master of life and death. It’s a bit like being God. Isn’t it fun to play God, Rønning?’
The room fell completely silent again. The seconds crawled past at a snail’s pace. Mikkel Wold’s brain had stopped working. Silje was hugging herself. Grung was standing up, with both hands in the air. Erik Rønning opened his mouth and was just about to say something.
‘Right,’ the cold voice said. ‘Both of them it is. It’s a shame really, but if that’s what you want, who am I to argue? Thanks for playing.’
‘No,’ Silje cried out, and lunged for the phone with both hands, a last desperate attempt to knock some humanity into the icy, metallic being, but it was too late.
The voice had already gone.
Chapter 43
Mia Krüger was sitting on the smoking terrace watching Munch destroy his lungs. They had just finished today’s briefing and Munch was in a particularly bad mood.
‘How is that possible?’ he kept repeating, rubbing his eyes.
None of the team had slept much in the past week, but Munch looked as if he might have slept even less than the others. Mia had been waiting for the right moment to tell him what was on her mind, but she was having second thoughts. She couldn’t be sure. It was just a hunch. But a hunch which had grown stronger as the day went by.
‘How is that possible?’ Munch said again, lighting his next cigarette with his current one.
‘What are you talking about?’ Mia said, taking out a lozenge from her jacket pocket.
‘Eh?’ Munch grunted, turning to her.
When he realized who he was talking to, his eyes softened.
‘All of it,’ he said, rubbing his eyes again. ‘Surely someone must have seen them? Two six-year-old girls don’t just vanish into thin air.’
‘Have we had a ransom demand yet?’
‘We’ve had bugger all. The families have offered a reward of half a million, I believe. You would have thought that amount of money would make someone come forward.’
‘Will they increase it to a million?’
Munch nodded.
‘They’re announcing it tomorrow. We’ll just have to cross our fingers.’
‘… and hope that not every nutter in the world jams our switchboard,’ Mia said.
‘That’s the risk we run,’ Munch sighed, taking a long drag of his cigarette. ‘Did you manage to contact Benjamin Bache?’
Mia nodded.
‘I’m meeting him at four thirty at the theatre. He could only spare me half an hour. I think he’s doing Karius and Bactus, The Tooth Trolls as well as rehearsing Hamlet. Do you want to come along?’
Munch shook his head.
‘No, you take that one. Does he live in his great-grandmother’s flat? Is that the address to which the bills are sent? You know the drill.’
‘No problem,’ Mia said.
‘I just refuse to believe it,’ Munch said. ‘Someone must have seen something. Our killer getting in and out of a car? Going in or out of a cabin? In or out of a basement? The girls have to be fed. Is our killer buying extra food? Our killer…’
He continued to stare at the tip of his cigarette.
‘If it’s that well planned, then we need a lucky break, you must be aware of that,’ Mia said quietly.
‘And it does seem well planned, doesn’t it?’ Munch sighed.
‘Yes, I’m afraid so.’ Mia nodded. ‘It could have been years in the preparation, for all the evidence we have.’
‘And we know what that means,’ Munch said. ‘The girls will be dead if we don’t find them soon.’
Mia said nothing. She, too, stayed where she was, staring down at the street. Sometimes, she envied the people down there. Normal people. Who owned a corner shop or bought shoes for their kids. Who didn’t have to deal with stuff like this. She found another lozenge in her pocket and braced herself.
‘There something I have to tell you,’ she said to Munch.
‘Spit it out,’ he said.
Mia paused as she struggled to find the right words.
‘What is it?’ Munch urged her.
‘I think that you’re involved,’ Mia said at length.
‘Involved?’
‘I think you were part of the planning.’
‘What are you talking about, Mia?’
They were interrupted by a timid Gabriel Mørk, who popped his head around the door to the terrace.
‘Sorry to disturb you, but…’
‘What do you want?’ Munch barked at him.
‘Oh, it’s just… Mia, I found, well, you know, the information you asked for earlier today. What do you want me to do with it?’
‘I want you to give all the names to Kim and Ludvig and get them to cross-reference them with the Hønefoss case. I have a hunch we might find something there.’
‘Will do,’ the young lad said, and quickly closed the door without ever once looking at Munch.
‘Just what did you mean when you said that I was part of the planning?’
‘I think’ – Mia nodded pensively – ‘that this is about you.’
‘About me?’
Mia nodded again.
‘I think so.’
They were interrupted once more, this time by an agitated Anette Goli, who didn’t even bother knocking.
‘You have to come right now,’ she said to Munch.
‘What is it?’
‘We have a breakthrough. We’ve just had a call from a lawyer…’
She looked at a Post-it note in her hand.
‘… his name is Livold. He represents Aftenposten. They’ve been contacted by the killer.’
‘Bloody hell,’ Munch said. He got up and stubbed out his cigarette. ‘When?’
‘Several times. I believe. Some days ago. Most recently, lunchtime today.’
‘And they ring us now?’ Munch was fuming. ‘Now? Morons.’
‘They’ve clearly spent a day or two taking legal advice.’
‘Bloody fools, where are they?’
‘Postgirobygget. They’re waiting for us now. I have a car downstairs.’
Munch turned to Mia. ‘Are you coming?’
Mia shook her head. ‘I’m off to see Benjamin Bache.’
‘Yes, of course.’ He gave her a strange look. ‘We’ll have to do this later, but soon. I have absolutely no idea what you’re talking about.’
‘I’ll meet you at Justisen afterwards,’ Mia said.
‘Fine,’ Munch said, and half ran after Anette out of the office.
Chapter 44
Benjamin Bache was sitting on the steps outside Nationaltheatret when Mia arrived. He seemed restless; he checked his watch, played with his phone, lit a cigarette, drummed his fingers on his thigh, glanced around as if he was nervous that someone might notice him. It wasn’t the smartest place to hang around if you didn’t want to be seen, Mia thought, and stopped behind the statue of Henrik Ibsen so she could spend some time observing him.
She had seen him somewhere before, but it took a while before she could place him. Not in Se og Hør – she never read that, she couldn’t even be bothered to flick through such magazines when she was at the dentist’s. Not that she had anything against them, it was just that their features held very little interest for her. The press had turned its attention to her when the storm raging around her was at its worst, but she had refused them all. ‘The truth about Mia Krüger’ was pretty much how the journalist had put it when he called her. Could such people even be called journalists? How did it work? Were you a journalist if you wrote about people’s breasts and where they spent their holidays? Surely there had to be some sort of professional standard? She had declined politely, even though he had offered her ‘a great holiday in the sun for you and your boyfriend – are you seeing anyone right now?’ Mia chuckled to herself and took a bite of the apple she had bought from the Narvesen kiosk further up the street. A holiday in the sun, seriously. Was that the best they could do? Was that their best offer? In return for which she would lay bare her private life? A holiday in the sun?