I'm Travelling Alone (33 page)

‘And the time of death?’

‘The same.’ Vik sighed again.

‘They were killed
in situ
?’

‘It looks like it,’ the man said. ‘But I can’t tell you for certain until we get them on the table. What’s going on, Munch? I have to say it’s one of the weirdest cases I’ve ever seen. Rigorous.’

‘What do you mean?’ Mia said.

‘Well,’ Vik said, taking another drag on his cigarette. ‘What can I say? For a ritual murder, it’s very tidy. The girls are neat and clean. Dressed. Satchels. And then there’s this pig’s head? Damned if I know. You take a look for yourself. I need a break.’

The old man stuffed the gloves into his pocket and shuffled towards the car park. Munch and Mia put on the white overalls that had been put out for them and entered the tent.

Karoline Mykle was lying on the ground with her hands folded across her chest. She was wearing a yellow doll’s dress. A satchel had been placed by her feet. Andrea Lyng lay only a few metres way; she, too, had her hands folded on her chest and a satchel near her white shoes. Both girls wore identical signs around their necks, just like Pauline and Johanne. ‘I’m travelling alone.’ An almost religious scene with a grotesque pig’s head placed in the middle. Mia Krüger put on her gloves and bent over Andrea. She held up her small white hand and studied her fingernails.

‘Three,’ she nodded.

She carefully replaced the hand on the girl’s chest and went over to Karoline.

‘Four.’

At that moment, Munch’s mobile rang. He looked at the display but ignored the call. The phone rang again.

‘I don’t bloody believe it,’ he said, and pressed the red button for the second time.

‘Language,’ Mia said.

She nodded in the direction of the girls and got up again.

‘Sorry,’ Munch said as the phone rang for the third time.

He pressed the red button again and, almost immediately, Mia’s mobile started to ring. She saw Gabriel’s name on the display.

‘Gabriel?’ Munch whispered.

Mia nodded and pressed the button to ignore the call.

‘Did he just ring you?’

Munch nodded as Mia’s mobile rang again. She stepped outside the tent to answer the call.

‘This had better be important,’ Mia snarled.

Gabriel sounded upset, almost out of breath.

‘I have to talk Munch,’ he panted.

‘He’s busy. What is it?’

‘I’ve decoded the message,’ Gabriel started.

‘What message?’

‘He got an email. A challenge. A coded message. Margrete_08. I’ve cracked it. The Gronsfeld cipher. I’ve decoded it.’

‘Surely it can wait?’ Mia sighed.

‘No, it definitely can’t.’

The young hacker was practically screaming down the phone now.

‘You have to tell him. Now.’

‘Tell him what? What was the message?’

Gabriel fell silent for a moment, almost as if he was too scared to say what he had found out.

‘Gabriel?’ Mia said impatiently.

‘Tick-tock little Marion = 5.’

‘What?’

‘Tick-tock little Marion is number 5.’

‘Christ!’ Mia exclaimed, and ran into the tent to tell Holger Munch.

Chapter 51

Miriam Munch was sitting in the back of her father’s Audi, trying to keep her emotions in check. On orders from her father, she wore a woolly cap pulled over her ears and large sunglasses. Marion was lying on the seat next to her, curled up under a blanket which completely concealed the little girl. Miriam had not understood very much when her father had woken her up two days ago and told her to lock all the doors. Don’t let anyone in. Keep Marion home from nursery.

What do you mean, keep her home from nursery?

For God’s sake, Miriam, just do as I say!

The thought had occurred to her, obviously. Miriam Munch was not stupid. Quite the contrary. Miriam Munch had always been one of the smartest girls in school. Ever since she was little, she had found it incredibly easy to do what others struggled with. Rivers in Asia. Capitals of South America. Fractions. Algebra. English. Norwegian. She had soon learned to keep quiet about her cleverness, not to come first in every test, not to put up her hand too often. She also possessed emotional intelligence. She wanted to have friends. She didn’t want to be thought of as better than anyone else.

So of course the thought had crossed her mind. Her daughter was due to start school this autumn. And her father was heading the investigation into the murder of four girls. She was not an idiot. But she had been stubborn. There was no way she would allow herself to be intimidated. Her life would not be destroyed by some madman. She had taken precautions, of course, who hadn’t? She took Marion to and from nursery school herself. She had already said no to letting Marion go to birthday parties, to her daughter’s great despair. She had organized a meeting at the nursery with staff and parents of all girls due to start school that autumn. Some of the parents had taken time off work, too frightened to send their children to nursery; some thought the nursery ought to shut temporarily; others wanted to be with their children – it had been mayhem, but Miriam had managed to calm them down. Convinced them that it was about living as normal a life as possible. Not least for the girls’ sake. But all the time there had been a nagging voice at the back of her head:
You might be at greater risk. You have the most to fear.
And now this had happened.

Miriam wrapped the blanket more tightly around her daughter, who was sound asleep. It was dark outside, and the black Audi drove smoothly through the almost deserted streets. Miriam Munch was not frightened, but she was concerned. And sad. And frustrated. And irritated. And outraged.

‘Is everything OK in the back?’

Mia Krüger turned to look at her. They had yet to tell Miriam why she was being moved again, the second time in as many days, but deep down they guessed she knew.

‘We’re fine.’ Miriam nodded. ‘Where are we going this time?’

‘A flat we have at our disposal,’ her father said, glancing at her in the rear-view mirror.

‘Isn’t it about time someone told me what’s going on?’ Miriam said.

She tried sounding stern, but she was exhausted. She had barely slept for two days.

‘It’s for your own good,’ her father said, looking at her in the rear-view mirror again.

‘Has the killer made a threat against Marion? Are you doing this just to be on the safe side? I have a right to know what’s going on, don’t I?’

‘You’re safe as long as you do as I say,’ her father said, jumping a red light at a junction.

She knew what her father was like once he had made up his mind about something, so she didn’t push him. Suddenly, she felt as if she were fourteen again. He had been incredibly strict when she was younger, but he had mellowed with age. Back in those days, there had been no point in trying to talk to him.
No, Miriam, you can’t wear that to school, that skirt is far too short. No, Miriam, you have to be home by ten. No, Miriam, I don’t like you seeing that Robert, I don’t think he’s good for you.
Her paranoid police-officer father micromanaging her teenage life. It had raised her status among her friends, though. Those who had it toughest at home got the most sympathy from the other students at school. Besides, she knew how to pull the wool over her father’s eyes, no matter how good a police officer he was. Towards the end, he had barely been at home, which meant he rarely presented a problem for her. Her mother, too, had been bound up in her own concerns. Christ Almighty, adults, parents, did they really think their children didn’t know what was going on? Miriam had known about Rolf before the eruption at home. Her mother, whose routine you could set your watch by. Who suddenly had to ‘see a friend’? Who suddenly got a lot of calls, which turned out to be ‘wrong number’. Please.

‘Is she asleep?’

Mia Krüger turned around again and looked at Marion, who was still curled up under the blanket.

Miriam nodded. She liked Mia, always had. There was something about her personality. She was charismatic. She had great presence. At times, she might seem a little distant and eccentric, but not to Miriam. Mia reminded her of herself; perhaps that was why she had taken to her. Intelligent and strong, but also quite vulnerable.

‘Your father received a coded message via a website,’ Mia said.

‘Mia!’ her father hissed, but Mia simply continued.

‘The sender pretended to be a Swedish mathematician called Margrete. When we cracked the code, it turned out to be a direct threat against Marion.’

Miriam could see her father’s face grow redder.

‘Seriously?’ Miriam said.

To her surprise, she realized she was intrigued rather than scared.

‘And how long have you been in contact with her? Online, I mean?’

Her father made no reply. His jaw was clenched and his knuckles white around the steering wheel.

‘Almost two years,’ Mia said.

‘Two years? Two whole years?’

Miriam couldn’t believe her ears.

‘Have you been in contact with this person for two years, Dad? Is that true? Have you been communicating with a killer for two years without realizing it?’

Her father still made no reply. His face was puce now, and he pressed the accelerator hard.

‘He couldn’t have known,’ Mia said. ‘Everyone on that website was anonymous. It could have been anyone.’

‘That’s enough, Mia,’ Holger Munch hissed.

‘What?’ Mia said. ‘Maybe Miriam knows something. If the killer has been in contact with you for two years, he might have contacted her as well? We have to know.’

Without warning, Holger Munch slammed on the brakes and pulled over.

‘You, stay where you are,’ he ordered Miriam in the mirror. ‘You, out.’

‘But Holger,’ Mia protested.

‘Out. Get out of the car.’

Mia unclicked her seatbelt and left the Audi against her better judgement. Holger Munch opened the driver’s door and followed Mia out on to the pavement. Miriam couldn’t hear the exact words, but it was clear that her father was incandescent with rage. He waved his arms about and was practically frothing at the mouth. She could see that Mia was trying to say something, but her father didn’t let her get a word in edgeways. He jabbed his finger right up in her face and, for one moment, Miriam feared that he might slap her. Her father ranted at length and, eventually, Mia stopped talking. She was just nodding now. Then the two police officers got back inside the car. Her father started the engine, and nothing more was said. The mood in the car was tense. Miriam thought it best not to say anything. Two years? Her father had been in touch with a killer that long? No wonder he was livid. Someone had tricked him. And now four girls were dead. Was Marion number five? Had that been the message? Was that why they had to go into hiding? Miriam tightened the blanket around her daughter even more and stroked her hair while the black Audi continued through the night to a safe house not even she knew the location of.

Chapter 52

Mia was standing on the pavement outside the grey apartment block in West Oslo, wondering if someone was watching her. It wasn’t the first time the thought had crossed her mind; ever since she had returned to Oslo she had had this horrible feeling of being followed. She had dismissed it as paranoia. Quite normal for someone in her situation. It was vital not to give into it. She wasn’t anxious by nature, so that wasn’t the problem, but even so, she couldn’t shrug it off. She glanced about her, but she couldn’t see anyone. The streets around her were completely quiet.

They had moved Miriam and her daughter to a safe flat in Frogner. Safe in the sense that it was not listed anywhere. Not in official archives. The night before, they had kept mother and daughter in a flat further east, but Munch had not felt safe there and decided to move them again. The flat they were using now was reserved for politicians and other important visitors who needed protection, but Munch had pulled a few strings on the quiet so that only a small number of people was involved. He was getting really paranoid now, but she could see his point.

Mia found a lozenge in her pocket and glanced up and down the street. Still no one there. No cars. Not even a newspaper boy. She was all alone, and she was quite sure that no one had seen Miriam and her daughter enter the flat.

A few minutes later, Munch appeared in the street. He lit a cigarette and raked a hand through his hair.

‘Sorry,’ Mia said.

‘Don’t apologize, it was my fault,’ Munch said. ‘I just wanted to – well, you know.’

‘Don’t worry about it,’ Mia said.

‘Are we alone?’

‘I think so. I haven’t seen anyone. Is everything OK up there?’

Munch took a deep drag on his cigarette and glanced up towards the third floor.

‘Everything is fine. Miriam is pissed off with me, but I understand. I hope she realizes that I’m only trying to help her.’

‘Of course she understands.’ Mia nodded. ‘It’s just all a bit too much for her right now. She’ll thank you when it’s all over.’

‘I’m not so sure about that. I had to tell her that she can’t get married.’

‘You told her to cancel her wedding?’

‘Yes, of course.’

‘That’s taking it too far,’ Mia objected.

‘A hundred people in the same church? And everyone with a connection to me? We couldn’t allow that,’ Munch said.

It was a game to the killer, nothing more. He or she was playing with them. How do you rob a bank? You blow up the building across the street. The killer knew exactly what he was doing. What she was doing. This was about more than four girls. Than ten girls. Someone had been watching Munch for years. And knew exactly how to hit him where it hurt. How to create maximum confusion. Chaos. Terror. Mia had not slept more than four hours in the last three days, and it was starting to get to her now, she could feel it. She was struggling to think straight.

‘Who’s at the office?’ Munch said when they were back in the car.

‘Ludvig, Gabriel, Curry, I think,’ Mia said.

‘Mikkelson will take me off the case,’ Munch said, lighting another cigarette without opening the window.