“In the seventies and eighties it was established custom in the Defence Ministry to invite capable young officials to go along on the Sirius patrol for a few weeks-you know, the sled dog team that enforces Denmark’s sovereignty in North and East Greenland during the winter. It was considered an honour to be invited and looked very good on a résumé besides, so almost everyone who received the offer accepted. In 1983 it was Bertil Hampel-Koch’s turn, but here a problem arose. Bertil had very little desire to go to Greenland under his own surname, due to the fact that from 1978 to 1994 his uncle, Tyge Hampel-Koch, was defence chief. And that is easy enough to understand. It wouldn’t have been the easiest starting point for him with the other men on the expedition. Completely without precedent, his chief administrative officer therefore gave Bertil permission to use the name Steen Hansen on his journey, or rather journeys, because there were two. How the job title geologist came into the picture, I don’t really know.”
Simonsen asked, “He made two trips, you say?”
“Yes, the first was in the summer of 1983, when he flew to Station North all the way up in Northeast Greenland in Crown Prince Christian Land. Here he met some of his future Sirius comrades and also helped set out stockpiles for the winter expeditions. It was on that trip that he made a stopover in Søndre Strømfjord, but you know that. The other time was for the sled trip itself in February 1984, and that is obviously not very interesting to us.”
The Countess asked with surprise, “So he did not go to Thule-”
Helmer Hammer interrupted her amiably but firmly.
“Now, now. This is my truth, I am formulating it. It is undeniably correct that on his journey to Station North in 1983 Bertil Hampel-Koch made a stop at the military base in Søndre Strømfjord. And in that connection I have a problem, which I hope perhaps you will help me with.”
Simonsen replied first.
“We’re all ears.”
“It’s no secret that I prefer truth number two – that is, my own interpretation-which I promise you is reliable through and through. I should not conceal either that it is also preferable for my boss and his many predecessors. Truth number one on the other hand-seen from our perspective-still needs to be kept under wraps twenty, thirty years before it is carefully examined.”
His use of the plural form was nicely judged. His two listeners were now painfully aware of what they were up against, if they did not play this Hammer’s way, and both of them silently consented. He smiled winningly.
“My wife and my daughter always tell me that I should rely more on other people, and they’re right of course. Will you help me in spreading truth number two? It would have the greatest effect, of course, coming from you. Besides, I never forget a favour.”
Simonsen answered hesitantly, “What did you have in mind?”
He explained and again they accepted, the Countess however with a touch of resentment.
“In other words: no Thule, no book, and no letter?”
The under secretary shook his head apologetically.
“No Thule, no book, and no letter. That is unfortunately correct, but I well understand if you-in addition to doing what you have to do-have become a trifle fascinated by the story. That letter in particular is quite amazing. It is a real masterpiece and should be printed on the back of every single employment document in Slotsholmen, under the heading Read and Learn.”
He looked at his watch and reached for his shoes, but then had second thoughts and carried on speaking.
“So, the US government asks Denmark about the country’s attitude towards atomic weapons in Greenland. A simple, straightforward question. The response, on the other hand, is anything but simple. On the contrary, it is outstanding in its artfulness, and all down to one of Bertil’s predecessors-Nils Svenningsen was his name. To start with, the reply establishes that the American Ambassador presented no specific plan for the introduction of atomic weapons in Greenland, which is completely true. Governments have generals for specific military plans. Also, atomic bombs are rewritten to ammunition supplies of a particular type. And then what is completely fabulous-director Svenningsen has his prime minister answer based on the absence of specific plans: I do not think that your comments give reason for any comments on my part.”
He gestured eagerly.
“Translation: you may by all means introduce all the atomic bombs you want-although we officially forbid that-so long as we know nothing. I do not think that your comments give reason for any comments on my part… and this to the US government! That is damned ingenious.”
This time it was Simonsen who looked at his watch. He had a double murderer to question, and besides, he had a hard time appreciating where evasiveness ended and ingenuity began.
CHAPTER 32
The questioning of Andreas Falkenborg began with silence. For a long time Konrad Simonsen stared down his prisoner, and watched the other man squirm under his gaze. It was evident that his discomfort at being observed made him restless and uncertain; he wrung his hands and stared down at the table like a guilty child. Simonsen let the other man stew and stonewalled the few times the prisoner looked at him, mutely imploring him to get the interview going.
Finally Simonsen recited the necessary preamble.
“Please state your name.”
“Andreas Falkenborg.”
“Birth date and place.”
“July the eleventh, 1955, in Copenhagen.”
“Where in Copenhagen?”
“The Municipal Hospital.”
“And where did your parents live?”
“Bispebjerg, when I was born. I don’t know the address, they moved shortly after.”
“That doesn’t matter. Andreas Falkenborg, you are accused of the murder of two women, namely the murder of Maryann Nygaard on September the thirteenth, 1983 near the radar station DYE-5 on the Greenland ice cap; and the murder of Catherine Thomsen on April the fifth, 1997 on Nordstrand outside Stevns Klint in Zealand. In addition you are a suspect in the murder of Annie Lindberg Hansson, who disappeared at Jungshoved near Præestø on October the fifth, 1990, and the kidnapping and attempted murder of Rikke Barbara Hvidt on May the sixth, 1977 in Kikhavn at Hundested. Do you understand these accusations?”
“Yes, but I haven’t done anything.”
“Do you also know that you have the right to a lawyer who can support you?”
“Yes, I know that.”
“Would you like a lawyer?”
“No, thanks.”
“I will make a note of that.”
A brief shudder ran through Falkenborg then, almost like a slight epileptic fit. Simonsen wrinkled his brow; that reaction was not in his script, and the last thing he needed was a suspect who did not let himself be questioned. Falkenborg asked, “Can I change my mind later? And get a lawyer then if I want?”
“Yes, of course you can.”
“And you won’t be angry with me?”
“My reaction is unimportant. If you want legal representation, just say so, and I will interrupt questioning until the lawyer has arrived.”
“Thanks.”
“You should also know that you have no obligation to speak. If you choose to do so, anything you say can possibly be used against you in court. Do you understand that?”
“Yes, I understand.”
“And even though you are not compelled to, you really want to talk to me?”
“Yes, I do.”
Simonsen noted to himself that now not even the most meddlesome defence lawyer could reasonably maintain anything other than that the man was well acquainted with his rights. Simonsen’s first actual question had been carefully chosen in consultation with Ernesto Madsen.