I'm Travelling Alone (32 page)

Tobias crouched down in the wet grass, trying to make himself as small as possible. His knees got wet, but he didn’t care. He could take it. He was tough. It was important to keep your mouth shut. Never argue back; that only made it worse. Nod. Bow your head. Say yes. He was not afraid. He was no longer scared. They had put a hood over her head. You were not allowed to do that. Adults were not allowed to do this to children. He sneaked forward, pausing every now and then to make sure everything was safe, that no doors had opened, but no one had spotted him. In five years, he would be eighteen. When you were eighteen, you got to decide everything for yourself. He would move out, perhaps find himself a job, maybe take his brother with him, even though he would only be twelve.
Is everything OK at home, Tobias? Please tell your mother to come to Parents’ Evening. I really want to talk to her. She hasn’t been to a Parents’ Evening for a long time, it’s important that she comes, please would you tell her? Have you hurt your hand? What happened to your ear? Is there anything I help you with, Tobias? You can trust me, you know that.

Tobias had reached the place where Rakel had vanished from sight. It was dark outside now. The church soared towards the sky, poking its spire into the moon and the clouds. Almost like an old-fashioned horror movie.
Frankenstein
or
Dracula
, one of those. He should be scared, but he wasn’t. He was angry. He had seen her eyes under the white bonnet. They were adults and she was a child. You were not allowed to hurt children. Yet again, Tobias regretted not bringing his torch. He could barely see the ground in front of him; the moon provided him with a little light, but it appeared for only a few seconds at a time. He was not an idiot. She couldn’t just have vanished into thin air. There had to be a hole in the ground somewhere. A hatch. Something. What kind of adult puts a child into a hole in the ground?

Tobias bent down and started patting the earth around him. Suddenly, a light was turned on inside the church. Tobias reacted instinctively, threw himself down and lay flat on the wet ground. He could smell soil and grass. He lay like this for a while, but no one came outside. He steeled himself and got up into a kneeling position; the light from the windows made it easier for him to see. He was looking for a hatch in the ground. People don’t just disappear.

It didn’t take long before he found it. It was brand-new, pale planks fixed together in a square measuring a metre by a metre, a hatch leading right into the ground. It was padlocked. Not with a big padlock but a small one, gold coloured like the one his PE teacher used for the ball cupboard, so no one would take the footballs without asking permission first. He glanced around again. There was no one in sight. There were voices coming from the church now, singing; the people inside the church were singing. They did some other things as well as singing. To God, or whatever it was. They didn’t know he was out here. That someone was out here trying to help Rakel. Pick the padlock. Release her. Tobias couldn’t help smiling. The PE teacher had never worked out why the footballs kept going missing. He didn’t know how easy it is to pick a padlock. Tobias had done it many times. Nearly all the boys in his class knew how to pick a padlock. It was even easier than cheating during tests. They had made pick locks during metalwork when the teacher went outside to have a cigarette. All you needed was a strip of metal; a nail file like the ones the girls used was a good starting point. You trimmed the tip with metal cutters and filed it down until the tip became very thin. It was a bit tricky, obviously – someone had to show you how to do it – but once you knew how, it was easy. Tobias took out his keys from the zip-lock pocket in his jacket and found the pick lock. Held the padlock so that the keyhole was widest to the right. Inserted the pick lock, pressed it hard to the left until he felt it make contact with the metal inside. He flicked it, pulling the lock towards him, pressed it, and then turned it hard to the right. Tobias heard small click as the lock opened. He removed it and lifted up the heavy hatch. A ladder. There was a long ladder leading into a hole. Carefully, he stuck his head inside the hole and whispered: ‘Hello? Rakel? Are you there?’

Chapter 49

Munch was already waiting outside the hotel when Mia appeared. She got into the black Audi and tried to make herself wake up. The pill she had taken was still in her system, making her slow and lethargic. Munch didn’t look as if he had slept much either. He was wearing the same clothes as yesterday. The brown corduroy jacket with the leather patches on the elbows and a stained shirt. He had bags under his eyes and deep frown lines on his forehead. Suddenly, Mia felt a little sorry for him. He really needed company. A woman in his life. Someone who could take care of him, the way he always took care of everybody else.

‘What have we got?’ Mia said.

‘Isegran Fort.’

‘Where is that?’

‘Fredrikstad.’

Mia frowned. The two other girls had been found near Oslo. In the woods. The killer had changed MO again.

‘Who found them?’

‘A couple of students.’ Munch sighed. ‘I believe the area is fenced off, but they had crept in to make out or something. What do I know?’

‘Who have we got down there?’

‘The local police. Curry and Anette are on their way, they should arrive soon.’

‘And what do we know so far?’

‘Both girls were lying on the ground either side of a stake.’

‘A stake?’

Munch nodded.

‘What kind of stake?’

‘A wooden one. With a pig’s head on the top.’

‘What do you mean?’

‘What I said. The girls were lying on the grass either side of a wooden stake with a pig’s head on the top.’

‘A real pig’s head?’

Munch nodded again.

‘Jesus Christ.’ Mia let out a sigh.

‘What do you think it means?’

Munch turned on the heating and took the tunnel by Rådhusplassen to get out of the city centre.

‘A pig’s head on a stake?’

‘Yes?’

‘It’s hard to say,’ Mia replied.

The heating inside the car made her sleepy. She was in need of her morning coffee but didn’t want to ask Munch to stop.

‘It has to mean something?’

‘
Lord of the Flies
,’ Mia said quietly.

‘What?’

‘It’s from a book.
Lord of the Flies.
Some kids wash up on a desert island, no adults present. They think a monster lives there. They place a pig’s head on a spike as an offering.’

‘Christ Almighty.’ Munch sighed. ‘We’re dealing with a monster, is that it?’

‘Could be.’

‘There is a bag of Fisherman’s Friends in there,’ Munch said, pointing to the glove compartment.

‘And?’

‘You need one,’ Munch said as he turned on to Drammensveien.

Mia felt a tad of irritation, but it passed quickly. She opened the glove compartment and took out the bag of lozenges. Took two before stuffing the whole bag into the pocket of her leather jacket.

‘Why Fredrikstad of all places?’ Munch wondered out loud. ‘It makes no bloody sense. And it’s so public.’

‘We’re too slow on the uptake,’ Mia said, taking out her mobile.

‘What do you mean?’

‘The killer is telling us that we’re doing a bad job.’

‘Dear Lord.’ Munch sighed.

Mia found Gabriel Mørk in her list of contacts.

‘Gabriel speaking.’

‘Hi, it’s Mia. Are you at work?’

‘Yep,’ Gabriel sighed at the other end.

‘Tell me what you have on Isegran Fort in Fredrikstad.’

‘Now?’

‘Yes, Munch and I are on our way there. They’ve found the girls.’

‘I heard.’

There was silence at the other end. Mia could hear Gabriel type on his keyboard.

‘Have you found something?’

‘What am I looking for?’

‘Anything.’

‘Right, here we go,’ the young man said, strangling a yawn. ‘Isegran Fort. Fortification on a small island outside Fredrikstad. It divides the Glomma estuary into two. It was built at the end of the twelfth century by the Earl of Borgsyssel, whoever he was. A stone and wooden building. Destroyed in 1287 by some king or other. New fortress built in the sixteenth century. Peter Wessel Tordenskiold used the place as a base during the great Nordic War, whenever that was. The name Isegran means Ö the wise men seem to be in disagreement here, but it could be from the French
île grand
, the big island. Does any of this help?’

‘Not really,’ Mia said. ‘Is there anything else? Something contemporary? What is it used for today?’

‘Hang on.’

Mia wedged the mobile in between her ear and shoulder and took another Fisherman’s Friend. She could still feel the taste of alcohol at the back of her throat.

‘There’s not much here. Wedding photographs taken at Isegran Fort. It’s a popular destination for pensioners on a day out.’

‘Is that all?’

‘Yes. No, wait.’

There was silence again.

‘What have you got?’

‘I don’t know if this is useful, but a monument will be unveiled there in 2013. Not on the fort itself, but on the seaside promenade.’

‘What kind of monument?’

‘It’s called Munch’s Mothers. Bronze statues of Edvard Munch’s mother and aunt.’

‘Of course,’ Mia muttered to herself.

‘Was that any help?’

‘Absolutely, Gabriel, thank you so much.’

She was about to hang up, but Gabriel stopped her.

‘Is Munch there with you?’

‘Yes?’

‘What kind of mood is he in?’

‘So-so, why?’

‘Please could I speak to him?’

‘OK.’

Mia passed her mobile to Munch.

‘Yes, Munch speaking?’

Munch’s Mothers.
She had been right after all.

‘Yes, I understand,’ Munch said on the phone. ‘But don’t worry about it. Like I said, it’s personal; we have other, more important things to do. What? Yes, it can drive you crazy, but I … What? Yes, I got it from a friend online. From Sweden. What? She calls herself margrete_08. Don’t worry about it. Yes, yes, I understand. Talk to you later.’

Munch laughed briefly to himself before handing the mobile back to Mia.

‘What was that about?’

‘Nothing important, just a private matter.’

‘He’s good,’ Mia said.

‘Who? Gabriel? Yes, absolutely. I like him. I’m glad we hired him.’

Mia took another Fisherman’s Friend and opened the window slightly.

‘Did you get anything from him? About Isegran Fort?

‘Absolutely.’ Mia nodded.

She repeated what Gabriel had just told her.

‘Damn.’ Munch swore softly to himself. ‘So this
is
about me? It’s my fault that these girls are dying?’

Munch narrowed his eyes and banged the steering wheel hard.

‘We don’t know that for sure,’ Mia said. ‘How long before we get there?’

‘One and a half hours,’ Munch said.

‘I think I’ll take a nap,’ Mia said.

‘Good idea.’ Munch nodded. ‘Have one for me, too, while you’re at it.’

Chapter 50

The sun was rising when they reached the police cordons. Munch showed them his warrant card and they were waved through by a young police officer with messy hair who looked as if he had just got out of bed. They parked the car outside a small red building called Café Galeien, where they were met by Curry, who guided them along the old stone wall. Mia could make out the seaside promenade on the other side where the bronze statues would be located. Edvard Munch’s mother and aunt. Laura Cathrine Munch and Karen Bjølstad. Mia knew a lot about Edvard Munch. Most people from Åsgårdstrand did. Their little town had always been proud that he had lived there, even though the fine ladies back in the day had twirled their parasols in disgust when they encountered the disreputable artist. Typical, isn’t it? Mia thought, as she spotted the white plastic tent the crime-scene officers had erected. Back then, they had despised him, but today we’ve conveniently forgotten all about that. Did that apply to all of Norway’s great artists? Did they have to die before we started valuing them? She was aware that this was not an original thought. She had heard it from her mother. Art and literature had always been highly valued in her childhood home. She had often sat by the kitchen table listening to her mother talking; it was almost like a lecture at school. Sigrid and her as the pupils, each with a bowl of porridge in front of them and their mother, Eva, as the eager teacher.

Curry seemed surprisingly wound up and kept talking all the way to the tent. The experienced police officer could come across as cold and hard, with his shaved head and muscular body, but Mia knew better. Curry was extremely talented and had a big heart, even though he looked and acted like a bulldog.

‘Two students found them. A couple. From Glemmen College. They were very upset, so we sent them home.’

‘Anything to do with this?’ Munch asked.

‘No, no, they could barely get a word out. I’ve never seen two students sober up so quickly in all my life. I think the discovery made the alcohol evaporate from their bodies.’

‘Any observations from the neighbourhood?’ Mia asked.

‘Not yet,’ Curry said. ‘Fredrikstad Police are doing door-to-door inquiries now. But I doubt they’ll come back with anything.’

‘Why not?’ Mia asked.

‘Is that a serious question?’ Curry smiled wryly.

‘It’s not exactly amateur hour, is it?’

They reached the tent just as an older man in a white plastic overall emerged from it. Mia was surprised to see a familiar face. She had worked several cases with criminal pathologist Ernst Hugo Vik, but she thought he had retired by now.

‘Munch. Mia.’ Vik nodded to them as they arrived.

‘Hello, Ernst,’ Munch said. ‘Did they drag you all the way from Oslo for this?’

‘No.’ Vik sighed. ‘I was hiding in my cabin, trying to get some peace, not that it did any good.’

‘What have we got?’ Mia asked.

Vik pulled down the white plastic hood and peeled off his gloves. He lit a cigarette and kicked a bit of dirt off his boots.

‘They haven’t been lying there long. One hour max before they were found would be my guess.’