“What do you mean?”
“Those are Simon’s words. To get a picture like that shoved in your face by a TV screen without advance warning is pretty awful if you’re next of kin, but we don’t really have a choice. If there is a crazed killer on the loose picking off child molesters, time is of the essence.”
The words were jarring in Berg’s ear. There were people she felt more strongly about protecting.
“Yes, I see what you mean.”
The Countess picked up on her tone of hesitation and reacted with unexpected vehemence.
“I assume that you’re in complete agreement with me, otherwise you might as well stay home… and put in for a transfer while you’re at it.”
She had no formal authority but both women were very aware that there was real force behind her words. Berg quickly adjusted her attitude.
“Of course I agree with you, one hundred percent.”
The Countess accepted this assurance and smiled.
Berg returned the smile and said, “So, we’re on our way to Fyn?”
Their assignment did not come as a surprise to her. It was clear that as soon as they received certain identifications they would have to go out in the field and earn their daily bread regardless of where that might be. Already yesterday she had seen where things were heading and had asked a neighbor to look after her cat.
“Yes, we are, and as I mentioned, there is not a moment to lose. We’ll drive by your place so that you can pick up some clothes. I assume you’ve already packed some?”
“Yes. Arne said that we would in all likelihood travel all around the country, wherever he got that from.”
“It was an educated guess. But perhaps you’re disappointed that you are paired with me and not with him?”
Her voice was cheery but there was a definite sober undertone. Berg chose to take the question at face value and answered honestly, “No, I’m not. The thing between us… I don’t know that it’s going to amount to much, nothing messy at any rate.”
“If you say so.”
“I mean, he’s in a good situation already. With his kids and all.”
“You’ll have to ask him about that. If you can sleep with each other, you should be able to talk a little.”
“But I’m asking you.”
“You want my honest opinion?”
Berg nodded.
“Arne would never leave his children and he won’t in this case and you shouldn’t try to get him to. Nothing good will come of it. But we’ve got to get going now and I’m in a hurry.”
Berg, who was familiar with the Countess’s great disdain for parking tickets, did not let herself be chased off immediately with these words. Instead she calmly finished her coffee. She had confirmed something that she really had known all along, and although her colleague had not exactly minced her words it was still a relief to hear. She dropped the subject and asked, “How did you know where I was? And why didn’t you call?”
“I did call. Four times, with no answer, so either your cell phone ringer is set too low or else you’ve turned it off, but Simon said you were most likely in here, reading women’s magazines.”
Color flooded back into Pauline Berg’s cheeks. “How can he know that?”
The Countess smiled. Without much empathy. “How can I know it?”
Then she added in a more conciliatory tone, “Simon’s network of contacts within the corps is extensive and you have chosen to hide in one of Denmark’s most frequently patrolled neighborhoods, so I think you’ve been spotted. Probably by a male colleague. They tend to notice you. Do you come here frequently?”
Berg grabbed the straw and ignored the question and said, “Yes, someone must have blabbed. So damn typical of men.”
The Countess nodded.
“Couldn’t agree more. But let’s get going. I’m going to tell you a cute little story on the way about how a mayor sent a psychologist to a psychologist.”
Chapter 33
Anni Staal was sitting at her desk at the Dagbladet and waiting patiently for her cub reporter to be ready. Anita Dahlgren leafed through her papers without rushing, well aware that this glacial pace irritated her boss.
The relationship between the two had gone from bad to worse in the past couple of days and it was now clear to both of them that they could not stand each other. Reluctantly, however, each had to grant the other a fairly high level of professional competence. Anni Staal had been in the limelight ever since Monday, when the murders in Bagsværd were discovered. Her subject matter took up a large part of the paper and there were many indications that this pattern would continue for a while. Despite the considerable stress, she was thoroughly enjoying the situation. Like a rat in a sewer, Dahlgren thought, who also grudgingly admitted to herself that she could learn a great deal from her appointed mentor. If she discounted the woman’s total cynicism and a disturbing lack of objectives other than advancing herself, her boss was a spectacular journalist.
For her part, Staal was not blind to the talents of her student. The girl was quick-witted, hardworking, intuitive, and above all she had some exceptionally creative approaches, all of which made her highly usable. That on a personal plane she appeared too soft to navigate the real world was less important. Staal had many co-workers with the opposite characteristics and she could live with the fact that the girl was churlish and unbearably didactic. Her shoulders were broad and she had encountered far worse.
The fact was that their work together was going very well.
Anita Dahlgren’s timing was perfect and Anni Staal’s words about getting her ass in gear stuck in her throat.
“You asked me for a report on the reaction from secondary schools around the country. Generally speaking, throughout the day there have been a multitude of examples of adult-education or secondary-school classes boycotting their regular instruction in favor of various studies that in one way or another relate to the sexual abuse of children. It’s hard give you a firm estimate, but my tentative conclusion is that about one-third or half of the secondary schools in the country have been affected. There are, however, large regional differences. The phenomenon is strongest in Copenhagen and the larger cities. These activities will most likely continue on Monday, and intensify. Probably creeping into the upper classes of the middle schools. That has already happened in individual instances.”
“What do they want to achieve? And who is behind all this?” Anita asked.
“Your last question is easy to answer. No one is behind it. It is spontaneous and spreads from one institution to the next, but there is no doubt that the abuse ad from yesterday set this whole thing off.”
Anita nodded.
“As well as the rumors about the mass murder. But what the students are doing varies. In some places they are investigating the number of children that are abused on a daily basis, like the ad urged them to. In some places, children are telling others of their own abuse and in other places pedophilia is simply the agenda of the day. Their distribution channels vary: blogs, posters, or the community board at the local supermarket-you name it-flyers, happenings, letters to the editors, to name a few. There’s a lot of creativity.”
“They must have a goal, dammit.”
“If so, it remains rather vague. One could say that the intention is to put a spotlight on child abuse-that is, to press society into taking stronger measures against abuse, something along those lines. But those are my words. I get varying explanations depending on whom I ask.”
“All of us are against child abuse, there’s nothing new there, so if there is a message it’s one that’s preaching to the choir.”
Anita leafed through some more papers. This time without unnecessary slowness. She had written a couple of sentences that could later go into an article if she was asked to write one. She read aloud, “‘Many young high-school students say that they have now found a common cause. In a world where they are indoctrinated on a daily basis about the unyielding demands of globalization in order to develop a competitive and competent intellect, and where the devil mercilessly harvests the mediocre, it is easy to understand that a comprehensible antimolestation message is a gift from the gods. Even higher is the Ministry of Education. The opposition to the adult world that for years has condoned the practice of child abuse is obvious and sparks a feeling of standing united with the same noble purpose, even as the real reason recedes into the distance.’”