“No, that sounds fine. Any prior record of pedophilia or other kinds of sexual abuse directed at children? I want that confirmed today. Or unconfirmed, if possible. For all of them.”
“Peder Jacobsen was charged but then the case was dropped and that’s twelve years ago. For the others we still don’t have anything but we’ll get it by the end of the day. All the teams are focused on that issue.”
Simonsen grabbed a marker and put a thick red mark by Frank Ditlevsen’s name.
“Remember Jens Allan Karlsen? His wife told us all about his hobby, that is, sleeping with children.”
Simonsen began to make another mark, then decided to hold off. “It’s not enough. I want something from his wife. The same goes for Peder Jacobsen. Dropped charges are not enough.”
“Okay, I’m sure it’s coming. What about me? Should I go to Århus?”
“No; in fact I’d like the Countess back from Middelford by tomorrow at the latest. Pauline can stay where she is, if she likes. That is, if the Countess agrees. You’ll take care of that. Have we found out if the victims were planning to go on vacation? And if so, have we confirmed where they were headed?”
“We know that they were going on vacation. We know that they were headed overseas and we know that the trip was going to last three weeks and that it was most likely they were traveling to Thailand, but no travel brochure or anything like that has been found in their homes. We’re assuming that their holiday started in the minivan early Wednesday from a place in Århus and we’re guessing that they were headed to Kastrup International Airport. But there are no booked plane tickets that went unused, at least as far as we can tell.”
“Assumptions and guesses-we’ve been doing that for almost a week. What about the Great Belt Bridge? I’m assuming you’ve put a team on investigating what they have from last Wednesday morning.”
“Yes, naturally. Two experienced guys from Korsør, but… well, there’s some…” He was searching for his words, which was unusual for him in a workrelated context. “Maybe I should start at the other end. Did you see the opinion poll on the home page of the Dagbladet?”
Simonsen tried his best to conceal his irritation. He had been in sore need of sleep, he now realized. That he was not yet fully brought up-to-date on every last detail was an unavoidable consequence. He said sourly, “I have been sleeping, you know. And sleep gets in the way of my reading.”
Pedersen caught the sarcasm and said, “It asks people if they would want to help the police in their investigation of the pedophile murders-they’re calling them that. That is, assuming they had valuable information. Sixty-four percent said that they would not.” He raised his voice a notch. “Fucking sixty-four percent, Simon. It’s outrageous. And then there’s a link to a lecturer at the law school who gives pointers for how to withhold information from us, the simplest and most effective of which is not to remember anything, however brain damaged, feebleminded, and untrustworthy one might appear.”
“And what does this apparent desire to return to the laws of the jungle have to do with the Great Belt Bridge?”
“I’m afraid that it isn’t just the Dagbladet readers who are turning a blind eye. And that videotaped scene with… you know the one where he chooses the boy… I mean, that hasn’t exactly made things better. Haven’t you seen it?”
“Yes, I have. And the Great Belt Bridge?”
“Yes, right. All of the recordings that track traffic across the bridge in the time frame that we’re interested in have mysteriously been misplaced or possibly erased by mistake. Then there’s the issue that all of the employees at the bridge have had a collective memory lapse. Most of them, at any rate. No one can apparently remember a single thing.”
Simonsen reflected darkly on this and then pushed his thoughts away. The scope of this phenomenon was unclear and therefore meaningless to speculate about further.
“We’ll take it as it comes. Troulsen says that Anni Staal received two short videos from the minivan that were not uploaded to the Web. What about them?”
“That’s correct. I wouldn’t exactly call them videos, more like picture sequences. Each image lasts no longer than a second and is taken from the inside of the vehicle through a window. Technicians have established these as authentic, without any image manipulation or the like. The first one shows the back side of the gymnasium but we don’t know where the other one was shot. You can see a bare field and a sliver of forest in the background.”
“God knows what that’s all about. Some kind of message?”
“I’ve wondered about that, but don’t have a good take on it. Not that I’ve had a free minute to think about it. There’s just been no time. Reports have been welling in. The volume of paperwork related to the case is increasing precipitously and no one has time to even skim the information. My overview is sporadic at best.”
“Better than no information.”
“I guess that’s right.”
“You take the minivan, Arne. The departure from Århus, the exact time and place, the vehicle type and registration, the location of the other video, et cetera. I will take over responsibility for the units in Jylland.”
“Then this may be something for Arne.”
They both turned.
Planck had snuck in. He was holding a cell phone.
“You must be the most difficult man in Denmark to reach at the moment, Simon. They’ve created a special access for you where one has to dial three different numbers before you even come on the line.”
“It’s to separate the fools from the idiots. Otherwise I wouldn’t do anything except talk on the phone. It’s bad enough as it is.”
“Well, this man is neither a fool nor an idiot and he was turned away nine times.”
Simonsen waved his arms in a theatrical gesture. “I wish you would respect the systems. He gets one minute. Tell him that.”
Planck introduced him: “The chief inspector is ready for you now. Take your time.” Then he held out the phone.
Simonsen took the phone, grunted his name, and listened. One minute grew to five. From time to time he asked a short question. Pedersen tried unsuccessfully to decode the conversation since it was obviously important. He did not, however, get further than a guess. Simonsen placed the cell phone on a desk without turning it off.
“I believe that the final destination of our minivan has been found.” He pointed to the phone. “Take him along with you, Arne. You’re going to Frederiksværk. And you’ve got your hands full.”
Chapter 45
Simonsen’s orders that any criminal records of the victims, specifically charges of child molestation, should be uncovered as quickly as possible spread like rings in the water across the nation, and despite the loud objections of many officers regarding the weekend work, the police machinery worked smoothly and yielded results. Troulsen gathered the threads together. Just back from the Dagbladet, he had a good knowledge of the victims. When he felt there was enough evidence to establish a sexual orientation toward children, he went to his boss. Simonsen waited in his office, where the poster of the victims now hung, stolen from Pedersen. The next red checkmark went to Jens Allan Karlsen from Århus, alias Mr. Southwest.
Troulsen explained, “Bags of videos in the crawlspace under the house, several diskettes with fingerprints belonging to Allan Ditlevsen-that is, the hot-dog vendor from Middelford. He was also active on KidsOnTheLine.dk. At least four meetings with young virtual friends and unfortunately very real meetings. Also, he was thrown out of the Danish Boy Scouts. Would you like that story?”
Simonsen shook his head and hung up.
Peder Jacobsen-Mr. Southeast-was much more difficult to pin down as a child molester. The matter was inherently sensitive and none of the man’s friends could or would put this label on him. In his personal effects there was also nothing that pointed to a sexual attraction to children. The police worked hard and long without results and finally the matter was resolved in a hamburger joint in Brabrand.