Medusa (11 page)

A few minutes later they were stepping over the crime-scene tapes and climbing down into the gully. Norbakk took a quick look at the body.

– Fucking hell, he muttered, and looked up at the top of the gully.

– What do you make of these?

Viken pointed to the deep scratch marks on the back and neck.

– Can’t be the result of a fall, Norbakk said. – Must be an animal.

Viken glowered at the journalist and the photographer, who were leaning over the tape and following their every movement. Then he shone his torch on the marks in the moss.

– Bloody hell, Norbakk exclaimed.

– There’s a couple more here. We’ll need to get the experts on this, but I wanted you to see it first.

Viken shone the torch on the muddy area at the end of the gully.

– What’s your guess, Arve?

– Guess? It’s a stone-cold certainty.

The three technicians had arrived back by this time. Sergeant Arve Norbakk studied the ground for a little while longer before he raised his gaze and looked from one to another.

– Bear, he said.

V
IKEN WAS IN
excellent spirits but for obvious reasons contained himself.

– Are you trying to say that this is not our case? asked Nina Jebsen in her laid-back Bergen drawl. – That this is something for the Hunting and Fishing Regulations people?

Viken rested his gaze on her face. He’d only worked with her a couple of times before. She was in her early thirties, the type most men would undoubtedly have described as pretty, he thought. Meaning a face that was feminine and symmetrical and all that. Not very exciting, perhaps, but she definitely had a woman’s body, something the light grey suit with the short cinched jacket did nothing to hide. She just needed to lose about five or six kilos, he said to himself, not for the first time. But all things considered it was best for her to be the way she was. He didn’t want any
babe
working next to him, not on the job; that would be bound to cause trouble.

Seen from that perspective, working with the head of the Violent Crimes section, Detective Superintendent Agnes Finckenhagen, was a pretty straightforward business. She was a bag of bones about his own age, with a crooked nose and thin lips. Nina Jebsen’s question had been directed at her. Now Finckenhagen’s mouth narrowed even further. Viken had long ago worked out that this was a sign she was trying to appear authoritative.

– We’ve had a wildlife expert up there, she said. – He confirms what we already suspected. She flashed a quick smile at Arve Norbakk, who was sitting directly opposite her round the table. – That is, that the murdered woman, Hilde Sofie Paulsen, has injuries consistent with those inflicted by a bear.

Viken adopted a look of relaxed inscrutability as Finckenhagen spoke. The case had been well handled, and she had praised him before the meeting. Taking Arve Norbakk up to the scene had been a smart move. The sergeant had experience with attaching radio transmitters to bears and was as qualified as any expert to identify the wounds on the deceased and the tracks found nearby. From the moment the body had been found they had been in control of the situation, and they had been firm in dealing with the press. Viken had discreetly reminded Finckenhagen that he was the one who had recommended Norbakk when he applied to join their section and that, probably as a result of this, he had been given the job ahead of people with a longer record of service.

– If it was an animal that did this, then surely we can take responsibility for tracking it down, suggested Inspector Sigmundur Helgarsson with a grin in Norbakk’s direction. – There’s others can hunt here besides Arve.

– Excellent idea, Sigge, Viken responded tonelessly. – I imagine you grew up hunting polar bears.

– Do they have polar bears in Iceland? Nina Jebsen wanted to know.

Finckenhagen raised both hands.

– Let’s drop the macho stuff, shall we. This is a deeply tragic case, it’s a very special case, and it’s going to be headline stuff all week. We don’t yet have a cause of death, but as of this moment there’s been no talk of transferring the case formally. Let’s hope it goes to the Crime Response Unit and not us.

Viken wasn’t all that convinced she really meant what she said. For some reason or other she had already been interviewed in
VG
and
Dagbladet
, and she had an appointment with TV2 later in the day. The uniform she was wearing had been freshly ironed, and if she’d had time she would probably have spent the morning at the hairdresser’s having something done about those wisps. None of the higher-ups have any doubt about my qualities as a leader, he thought. Not just on the technical side, but also in dealing with people. Finckenhagen had got the senior post for which they’d both applied for a very different reason. He gave her a disarming smile. Enjoy it while you can, Slinkenhagen.

Arve Norbakk sat up straighter in his chair. His eyes were brown below the fair fringe. They were quite large and round and gave the impression of someone mild and cautious, but Viken knew the sergeant could be tough enough. He’d noticed how Nina Jebsen, and Finckenhagen too for that matter, changed whenever Arve was around. They moved in another way, their voices went up a touch. He didn’t object to it at all.

– I’m certain this isn’t a matter for Hunting and Fishing, said Norbakk.

– Are you? asked Finckenhagen. – How so?

He looked to be thinking before he continued.

– Those tracks up there, they were reasonably fresh.

– You don’t say, Hawkeye? Helgarsson grinned.

– Cut it out, Sigge, warned Viken. – Let Arve finish what he’s saying.

– Paulsen has been missing for a week and a half, Norbakk noted. – But the tracks we found aren’t as old as that.

– In other words, said Viken, who had already discussed this with Norbakk, – it looks like we aren’t done with this case after all.

He went on:

– We’ve got to keep our eyes on the doughnut and not the hole. And anyway, how many of us here really believe there’s a killer bear wandering around up there in the marka?

Finckenhagen blinked a few times.

– Let’s wait until we have the pathologist’s report, she said.

Viken didn’t smirk. He knew she always used phrases like that when she didn’t have anything sensible to say.

S
TILL ANOTHER THREE
quarters of an hour before the office opened. Axel Glenne usually managed to get a lot of work done in the time before the patients arrived. Go through the mail, finish off the referrals. He turned on the computer. While he waited for it to load up, he looked again at
Aftenposten
. MISSING WOMAN FOUND DEAD was the front-page headline.
Tragic accident
, it said underneath.
Body lay in forest for ten days
.

He put the paper aside. Opened a letter from the surgical department with an appointment for Cecilie Davidsen’s operation. They’d been quick; he hadn’t needed to send them a reminder. Given what they’d found, there was no time to lose. He remembered that he’d dreamt about her. He’d opened the door of a house he recognised. The villa in Vindern. He hadn’t rung, just gone right in. It was dark inside, but he heard sounds coming from the floor above, a woman groaning. I shouldn’t be here: the thought flashed through him as he started to climb the stairs. Someone was following him; he sensed a shadow but couldn’t turn round.

He looked through his list of patients again. Had to be finished by four. He hadn’t visited his mother last week. Hadn’t been back since she got him mixed up with Brede.

He found an updated article on whiplash injuries in the online edition of
The Lancet
. He wanted to give Miriam the best possible advice regarding the case she was handling. If she even showed up today … Was he hoping she would still be off sick? So he wouldn’t have to say anything about the visit to her flat the Monday before? Wouldn’t have to joke about it. Or apologise. Maybe that was why she’d stayed away all week.

At 7.40, he heard Rita let herself into the office. A few moments later, he went in.

– New week, new possibilities, she said, without conviction.

– You heard the news, he said.

She nodded.

– It’s the most awful thing I ever heard. Imagine that, Axel, a bear.

His eyebrows shot up.

– A bear?

– Didn’t you hear? she exclaimed, holding up
VG
. Half the front page was covered with the words: TORN APART BY BEAR IN NORDMARKA. There was an indistinct photograph, white-clad figures stooped over a body on the ground.

– It’s just the kind of thing
VG
writes, Rita. It’s not possible. Not in the Nordmarka.

– I suggest you read the whole thing. The police say there’s no doubt.

He flipped through the ten pages devoted to the case.

– I met her up there. Just before she disappeared.

– My God! Why didn’t you mention it before?

He peered out into the waiting room, where the first patient had taken a seat, a retired officer who had known his father.

– There’s been so much going on, Rita.

He heard Miriam talking to Rita outside reception. Shortly afterwards, she came along the corridor, past his door, and opened the door to Ola’s office. Axel opened the retired lieutenant colonel’s notes. Checked the lab tests. His haemoglobin concentration had fallen since the last time it was tested. He heard Miriam’s steps approaching again. He looked at some of the patient’s other results. There was a knock on the door, which was ajar. He cleared his throat, but before he managed to say anything, she was standing there. He scrolled down to the bottom of the document and looked at the last readings before glancing up. Beneath her coat, she was wearing the top with her name on it.

– Dirty linen basket still full, then? he said, adding, before he had time to wince at his own comment: – So you’re feeling better?

She crossed the floor and stood in front of him.

– A bit hoarse, but yes, fine.

He stood up. – Miriam, he said, and put his arm around her. She moved in close to him. He stroked her hair, laid his face against her neck and inhaled. The smell reminded him of something he had forgotten.

The telephone rang. He reached across the table without letting go of her hand.

– Are you ready for your first patient? asked Rita, obviously as a way of reminding him that he was already ten minutes late.

– Send him in. Did you tell him that we have a student here?

– Yes, yes. Another thing, Axel,
VG
just called. I said you were busy.

–
VG
? What did they want?

– A journalist … Fredvold, she wanted to talk to you. I said she could try again at lunchtime.

Axel felt suddenly annoyed.

– Listen, Rita, I don’t have time to talk to
VG
.

– Okay then, she said, surprised. – What do you want me to say?

– Tell them I’ll be busy all day. It’s the truth, after all.

–
T
HIS IS THE
closest you get to knowing what it feels like to be a surgeon, said Detective Chief Inspector Viken after he and his sergeant, Arve Norbakk, had pulled on the disposable green capes, with hoods in an almost matching green, and the blue plastic shoe coverings. – And it’s plenty close enough for me. I’ve never yet met one doctor you could trust.

– Right now you look more like a chef, chuckled Norbakk as they entered the sharp light of the mortuary room in the basement of the Rikshospital.

Viken didn’t like delay, and he’d taken the trip up to the Institute of Pathology without Finckenhagen knowing anything about it.

– I know it’s not long till dinner, he said, wrinkling his nose, – but surely the smell down here doesn’t remind you of food?

Two people were already in the room, bent over a steel table. One was a tiny woman in her forties with a heavily made-up doll-like face. Viken knew her well, had worked with Jennifer Plåterud many times. He had quickly discovered that her mind and her tongue were equally sharp and he treated her with a respect that very few others of his acquaintance enjoyed. Viken knew a lot about most of the people he worked with. In his head he kept a catalogue of useful information regarding them, some of which he had even written down. He had tried on several occasions to worm out of Jennifer just what it was that had brought her to Norway. Surely her real reason for leaving Canberra and travelling to the other side of the globe couldn’t be that she’d met some farmer from Romerike, the guy she later married? But when it came to her private life Jennifer was a sphinx, and Viken still hadn’t got to the bottom of that particular question.

The other person standing there was a man of medium height wearing glasses, with a well-trimmed beard. Viken had never seen him before.

– Frederik Ovesen, the bearded man said, introducing himself with a cough. – Assistant professor at the Zoological Institute.

– Ovesen is their leading expert on beasts of prey, Jennifer announced in perfect Norwegian but with a broad Australian accent. Despite the fact that she was wearing stilettoes under her shoe coverings, she had to stretch to reach across the width of the steel table she was working at.

– How far have you got? asked Viken, with a glance at the body he had last seen in the forest a few kilometres beyond Ullevålseter. The ribcage had been opened up and the heart and both lungs taken out.

– The preliminary autopsy will be ready by tomorrow, Jennifer promised, and Viken couldn’t off-hand recall a single time she hadn’t kept her word.

– Time of death?

The pathologist pulled on her plastic gloves.

– Four to five days ago. Six at the most.