The homicide chief shook his head. It was true that he’d had too much on his plate ever since the murder of the cyclist in Valby Park had taken a new turn. Until last night they’d had a good witness, a reliable witness, and she had more to tell them — that much was very clear. They were sure they were close to a breakthrough. But then the witness had suddenly clammed up. It was obvious that someone in her circle of friends had been threatened. The police had questioned her until she was completely exhausted; they had talked to her daughters and her mother, but no one had anything to say. The whole family was terrified. No, Marcus hadn’t got much sleep. So apart from seeing the headlines of the morning papers, he was out of the loop.
“Is it the Denmark Party again?” he asked.
“Exactly. Their legal spokesperson has presented the proposal again, as an amendment to the police-bill compromise, and this time there’ll be a majority in favor. It’s going to pass, Marcus. Piv Vestergard is going to get her way.”
“You’re kidding!”
“She stood at the podium and ranted for a good twenty minutes, and the parties in the government supported her, of course, even though the Conservatives were probably squirming.”
“And?”
“Well, what do you think? She brought up four examples of ugly cases that had been shelved. In her opinion, it’s not in the best interests of the public for such cases to remain unsolved. And that wasn’t all she had in her goodie bag, let me tell you.”
“Jesus Christ! Does she think the crime squad puts cases on ice for the fun of it?”
“She insinuated that might actually be what happens with certain types of cases.”
“That’s bullshit! What sort of cases?”
“She mentioned cases in which members of the Denmark Party and Liberal Party have been victims of a crime. We’re talking about cases nationwide.”
“The bitch is off her rocker!”
The deputy shook his head. “You think so? Well, she was just getting warmed up. After that, of course she also mentioned cases involving children who had disappeared and ones in which political organizations have been subjected to terrorist-type attacks. Cases that are especially bestial.”
“OK, OK, she’s fishing for votes, that’s what she’s doing.”
“Yeah, of course she is, otherwise she would have handled it outside the Folketing chamber. But they’re all fishing, because right now all the parties are in negotiations over at the Justice Ministry. The documents will be in the hands of the Finance Committee in no time. We’ll have a decision within two weeks, if you ask me.”
“And what, exactly, will be the gist of it?”
“A new department will be established within the criminal police. She herself suggested it be called ‘Q,’ since that’s the designation of the Denmark Party on the ballot. I don’t know whether that was meant to be a joke, but it’s sure going to end up as one.” He gave a sarcastic laugh.
“And what’s the objective? Still the same?”
“Yes. The sole purpose is simply to handle what they’re calling ‘cases deserving special scrutiny.’”
“‘To handle cases deserving special scrutiny.’” Marcus nodded. “That’s a typical Piv Vestergard expression. Sounds very impressive. And who’s supposed to decide which cases warrant such a label? Did she mention that too?”
The deputy shrugged.
“OK, she’s asking us to do what we’re already doing. So what? What does it have to do with us?”
“The department will come under the auspices of the National Police Commission, but administratively there is every reason to believe it will be under the homicide division of the Copenhagen Police.”
At this, Marcus’s mouth fell open. “You’ve got to be joking! What do you mean by administratively?”
“We plan the budgets and keep the account books. We provide the office staff. And the office space.”
“I don’t understand. You mean now the Copenhagen Police are also going to have to solve ancient cases that are under the jurisdiction of police districts way out in the sticks? The regional districts will never go along with that. They’re going to demand to have representatives in the department here.”
“Not necessarily. It’s going to be presented as a way of taking some of the burden off the districts. Not as an extra workload.”
“You realize what you’re saying, don’t you? That now our department is also going to have to provide a flying squad for hopeless cases. With my staff providing backup. No way, damn it, no! You can’t be serious.”
“Marcus, try and listen to me. It’s only a matter of a couple of hours here and there for just a few staff members. It’s nothing.”
“It doesn’t sound like nothing.”
“OK, then let me come right out and tell you how I see it. Are you listening?”
The homicide chief rubbed his forehead. Did he have a choice?
“Marcus, there’s money attached to this.” He paused for a moment as he fixed his eyes on his boss. “Not a lot, but enough to keep one man on salary and at the same time pump a couple of million kroner into our own department. It’s an extra appropriation that’s not meant to displace anything else.”
“A couple of million?” He nodded appreciatively. “OK, now you’re talking!”
“Brilliant, isn’t it? We can set up the department in no time, Marcus. They’re expecting us to dig in our heels, but we won’t. We’ll give them an accommodating response and propose a budget that avoids earmarking any specific tasks. And we make Carl Morck the head of the new department, but there’s not going to be much to be in charge of, because he’ll be on his own. And at a safe distance from everyone else, I can promise you that.”
“Carl Morck as head of Department Q!” The homicide chief could just picture it. A department like that could be easily run on a budget of less than a million kroner a year, including travel expenses and lab tests and everything else. If the police requested five million a year for the new department, there’d be enough left over for a couple more investigative teams in the homicide division. Then they could concentrate mainly on older cases. Maybe not Department Q cases, but something along that line. Fluid boundaries, that was the key to the whole thing. Brilliant, yes. Nothing short of brilliant.
4. 2007
Hardy Henningsen was the tallest person who had ever worked at police headquarters. His military records reported his height as six feet, nine and a half inches. Whenever they made an arrest, it was always Hardy who spoke, so that the perps had to lean their heads way back while their rights were read to them. That sort of thing made a lasting impression on most people.
Right now Hardy’s height was not an advantage. As far as Carl could tell, his long, paralyzed legs never got stretched out full length. Carl had suggested to the nurse that they cut the footboard off the bed, but apparently that was not within her realm of expertise.
Hardy never said a word about anything. His TV was on 24/7, and people kept coming and going in his room, but he didn’t react. He just lay there in the Hornb?k Clinic for Spinal Cord Injuries, trying to survive. Attempting to chew his food, to move his shoulder a bit, since that was the only part south of his neck over which he had any control, and otherwise allowing the nurses to wrestle with his unwieldy body. He merely stared up at the ceiling as they washed his groin, stuck needles in him, emptied the bag collecting his waste products. No, Hardy didn’t have much to say anymore.
“I’m back at headquarters again, Hardy,” said Carl, straightening the bedclothes. “They’re working full blast on the case. They haven’t discovered anything yet, but I know they’re going to find out who shot us.”
Hardy’s heavy eyelids didn’t even flicker. He didn’t bother to glance at Carl or at the TV news program on Channel 2 that was filling airtime with a hyped-up report about the eviction of the kids squatting at the Youth House. He seemed indifferent to everything. Not even anger remained. Carl understood him better than anyone else. Even though he wasn’t about to show it to Hardy, he didn’t give a fuck about anything either. It was completely irrelevant who’d shot them. What good would it do to find out? If it wasn’t one person, then it was
