It was the head of DSIS who answered her.
“We took it from his bunch of keys in the hotel room yesterday and replaced it with a copy we had made. The original has been sent for technical investigation; we can’t definitively conclude whether it has been used recently, but the thumbprint was made within the last two days, so we will proceed from that. You got the report a long time ago.”
“Yes, I’ve seen it, but I haven’t read it closely yet. Simon, we are responsible for the surveying of cellar rooms, how intensive is that investigation?”
“As intensive as we can possibly make it. The Home Guard and others are helping us. They are going from cellar to cellar everywhere, and attics too naturally, to see whether they can find the matching lock. There are also photographs of a similar lock in the newspapers, with a call for private citizens to help. But so far without result, apart from the fact that we have found twenty-three padlocks from the same manufacturer, which doesn’t help at all.”
“No, but it’s the story I could start with if I met Falkenborg. Some officer who had behaved rudely because the police wanted to look through my cellar. Maybe talk about the key, and definitely about all the people who are working on the case, and see how he reacts.”
Ernesto Madsen’s assessment was not encouraging.
“He will not react, because he won’t even talk about it.”
The head of DSIS said, “That is to say, that you recommend it.”
“What do you mean?”
“I mean, you say nothing about the fact that it may do harm, and if it doesn’t succeed, there’s no downside, so we’re right where we already are.”
Ernest Madsen said, a little confused, “That’s right, of course, but in any event it should not be—”
The head of DSIS interrupted him.
“You should know, Ernesto Madsen, that my own profilers have great respect for your work, and they are quite impressed by your report about Falkenborg’s relationship with his parents. Personally I too think you hit the nail on the head, although I do not have the professional background for an informed critique. I got a lot out of your revelations about his mother in particular. If you could please give us an outline of that, so it’s fresh in my mind, I’d be grateful.”
Simonsen noticed that the head of DSIS was well prepared. He added, “That’s a good idea, but make it brief, Ernesto.”
Madsen spoke, and the Countess in particular listened intently. At one point she interrupted politely, “Please explain that again. So you’re saying that if I behave submissively and arrogantly at the same time, I have the greatest chance of making friendly contact with him? But how will I do that in practice? Let’s say, for example, that I just sat down at the table where he is eating, then to whom am I being arrogant and how should I be submissive?”
“Well, for example, you could be arrogant to the waiting staff, especially if they’re young.”
The head of DSIS exclaimed enthusiastically.
“Well thought out, Ernesto. Perhaps we can arrange for a young waitress, that can be done, if we know the place in advance.”
“But you’re not going to do that, are you?”
“Well, no. Good point. What would you recommend otherwise? Don’t hold back.”
The Countess was on the same track.
“Yes, who would you advise me to be submissive to?”
Simonsen added, “This is brilliant! Weaving the Countess’s role into your survey of his psychological relationship to his mother . . . that makes it relevant while also saving time.”
The police commissioner herself joined in the chorus of praise, and Madsen did all the weaving he could manage. The keeper of the minutes did his job, and neither the police commissioner nor the psychologist realised that they had been drawn into the head of DSIS’s carefully thought out agenda.
CHAPTER 60
Andreas Falkenborg decided to have lunch at the highway cafeteria in Solr?d south of Copenhagen. The Countess managed to slip into the line at the till two places ahead of him. The microphone, placed like a beautiful brooch in the lapel of her tailor-made suit, was connected to a transmitter in her handbag, and the sound came through clearly on the speakers in the control room at Police Headquarters, Copenhagen. Everyone present listened tensely. The police commissioner gestured sympathetically when she heard the way the Countess belittled the woman at the till in a bad-tempered onslaught about the quality of the food versus its price. And waiting to go into the cafeteria with her tray until shortly after Falkenborg had taken a seat was obviously successful too, for a little later they heard the Countess ask: “May I sit down here?”
“Yes, if you like. But there are plenty of vacant tables.”
“I like company. Tell me, did you hear that stupid goose?”
“I heard her.”
“Wasn’t she rude? You’d have to go a long way to find a girl as stupid as that.”