“We lost him, that’s not even his car. He tricked us at the parking lot in Solr?d and put the transmitter on a German truck that’s going to R?dby.”
Everyone was shouting at each other. Except for the police commissioner, whose face turned ash-grey and who dabbed her cheeks with her mineral water. No one had seen that happen before. There was confusion for a while until Simonsen became the focal point of everyone’s gaze. He said calmly, “Go and put out a search for him again, Poul, there’s nothing else to do. And this time we’ll bring him in when we find him.”
Troulsen left, and the head of DSIS consoled the police commissioner.
“Your order to cancel the close surveillance was correct. I am almost certain that it will be backed up everywhere, even though you have no operational experience. Unless there is a major investigation . . . but it shouldn’t concern outsiders who orders who to do what. I will personally take responsibility, so long as I don’t have to lie to an official inquiry. What do you say, Simon?”
“Naturally we’re in agreement on that, and I would have done exactly the same. Can’t we just avoid putting the command in the minutes? It’s not reasonable that only one of us takes full responsibility.”
The police commissioner livened up a little.
“Thanks, I won’t forget that.”
Neither of the two men believed there’d ever be an official inquiry, however; these things would obviously be taken care of internally. Or perhaps simply forgotten.
The story of the fiasco spread like wildfire through Police Headquarters. Gradually people began to gather in the control room. Individually or in small groups, the officers came in silently and took empty chairs or lined the walls. No one spoke, and the spontaneous gathering had no purpose. It felt simply as if everyone was used up; four days and nights of unbroken high-pressure effort had finally culminated in this. No one imagined Pauline Berg had any chance left now. Her rescue was beyond the scope of the police and could only be achieved by an even higher power. An older detective understood that better than anyone; he knelt and said a prayer, while others in his vicinity lowered their heads and, according to conviction, supported him as best they could. Arne Pedersen left the room, his caretaker followed. Both of them were crying openly. In the midst of the confusion sat Simonsen and the Countess, holding each other’s hand and waiting in anticipation. And then all at once the prayer was answered. The big screen suddenly changed its image, and a green circle appeared on a map of Denmark. One voice shouted excitedly above the rest.
“That’s the damned forest road to Avns?, I know that place. It’s deserted out there, what do you suppose he’s doing?”
And another interpreted the green, blinking figure.
“He’s talking on his cell phone.”
The ring tone from Simonsen’s inside pocket was timed so that no one needed a closer interpretation. The homicide chief took the call, while everyone in the room held their breath. Simonsen listened; Doctor Cold’s voice was business-like, as usual. Simonsen, who by now was used to misleading anyone observing him, said aloud, “It’s him.”
He listened then added, “Between K?llna and ?ssj?, right on the highway in a little birch grove, yes, I got that . . . And that’s where you buried Liz Suenson?”
The Countess was ready with pen and paper and wrote that down.
“Bunker in Hareskov between Skovbrynet Station and Hareskov Station, I follow you . . . No, you mustn’t . . . Yes, you’re sick, and we can help you. Stay where you—”
Simonsen dropped his cell phone and shouted, even though everyone was hanging on every word from his lips in advance.
“Malte, are you here?”
The student answered and instantly received his orders.
“Air-raid shelter from 1955, rented from V?rl?se Municipality, it must be Fures? Municipality today, at the end of a forest path near the S-train. Find the address, as quickly as you can. Poul, you get hold of an ambulance, use the emergency number, say that they should dispatch it from Herlev Hospital, that’s the quickest, and make sure there is a doctor along with it. Tell them they should drive toward Hareskoven and that the driver will be given the exact destination en route.”
Troulsen ran out, and Simonsen gave further commands.
“We should also have some patrol cars . . . that must be Gladsaxe Police District, someone take care of that . . . and also cars for Falkenborg. He is at . . . well, you can see that on the map, but it had better be quick, he’s about to do harm to himself.”
Several officers hurried out of the room.
The first report back came verbally and a good deal faster than anyone had expected. An officer called in.