The Girl in the Ice

“No, why is that?”


“Because this morning two police officers wanted to search my cellar, and they were so shameless that you don’t know the half of it.”

“No.”

“Just think, they ordered me around, as if—well, they were searching for two girls, who . . . Hey, where are you going? You’re not even finished . . . damn it anyway. I’ll go after him, that will have to be plan B, so I hope he reacts better than this.”

Simonsen said quietly, “It was worth a try.”

Troulsen tried to be optimistic.

“Let’s just see what his next response is. I really think this is our best chance.”

The head of DSIS snapped, “It’s a little late to say now.”

No one answered him. Shortly after that the Countess whimpered through the speakers: “Excuse me, Andreas Falkenborg, yes, I know your name, I’m not who I said I was. But you know where my daughter is, and you know that she will die if you don’t help me. And I believe deep inside that you know what you have done is wrong. You mustn’t take her away from me. Think about your own mother, how much she suffered, but all that you did to her, you can make good again by giving me my child back. Her name is Pauline . . . yes, yes, I’ll be going now, but for God’s sake, think it over. For your mother’s sake and the peace of your own soul.”

Troulsen commented, “He didn’t even answer, is that good or bad?”

The head of DSIS asked, “Didn’t he say something in the background? Very faintly?”

Simonsen thought that the man was laying it on too thick, and did not support the assertion. No one else commented either. Shortly afterwards the Countess’s voice filled the room: “I’m standing out in the parking lot, and what just happened made a big impression on Falkenborg, although he waved me away. But now there’s no need for this microphone. I’ll call you in a little while, Simon.”

Twenty seconds later Simonsen’s cell phone rang. He took the call and relayed the conversation as he listened, talking in turn to the others and to the Countess. It worked well, everyone could follow what was happening.

The Countess said, “The timing is going to be close, Simon. He’s still sitting in his car, but if he leaves, and the DSIS people spot him, the whole thing is messed up. And where are Doctor Cold’s gorillas? I don’t see any sign of them . . . Wait a moment, here they are now.”

Simonsen relayed to his listeners:

“She says that he felt touched, he seemed almost contrite and depressed. His attitude was completely resigned. He waved her away because he was starting to cry. Now he’s circling his car, apparently at a loss about what to do.”

The police commissioner wrung her hands and let out a short, “Yes.”

Simonsen instructed the Countess.

“No, you must not approach him again, leave him alone for a while.”

She said, “Now Doctor Cold’s people have caught up with him. It went fast, and no one noticed anything, but the timing is bad . . . No, now the driver is going to the truck where I put the transmitter. So you might as well continue.”

Simonsen informed the gathering.

“He is walking around the parking lot, now she can’t see him because of a bus . . . Then he comes out again, he goes back to his car and gets in . . . And now she says that he’s driving away.”

The head of DSIS pointed up at the big screen and said, “We can see that for ourselves, Simon.”

Simonsen shook his head slightly then said to the Countess, “No, you shouldn’t follow him, come back to HS. We have him tracked.”

The Countess answered Simonsen, “Keep your fingers crossed that the surveillance team doesn’t notice his car when it leaves the parking lot. See you in a bit.”

The optimism lasted for almost an hour; Falkenborg was on the move, driving on the South Freeway that led to R?dby on Lolland, and everyone was anxious when he turned off it; some more than others, however. Troulsen said, “Soon he’ll be at the Far? Bridge, where do you suppose he’s hidden her?”

The police commissioner was somewhat more subdued than before.

“Maybe he’s in flight, that’s also a possibility.”

The Countess, who had joined them, answered, “I don’t think so, he seemed very, very affected.”

“But when will he exit the freeway? This is almost unbearable to watch.”

Suddenly the head of DSIS said, “Something is wrong, he is driving too slowly. My people are a kilometre behind him, I’ll ask a team to drive up.”

It took a long time before he came back. Not until Falkenborg was stopped at Falster just before Guldborgsund did the security chief come into the room again, trembling with excitement.

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