Death on Pilot Hill

told me that. . ”

“Oh yes. . how interesting,” said Nilsen from time to time while cringing inside. He hated the constant name-dropping that his boss used to show off about how close he was socially to the top brass in the Norwegian Police Service.

“So Nilsen. . the long and short of it is that you need to call several press conferences. . go for maximum coverage in television and radio and newspapers and magazines.”

“Issue the usual press releases? Give the ususal interviews and exclusives and off the record background?”

“Ja. Make sure that you show in big graphs and charts how many officers and how many hours and how many resources we are dedicating to protect the little children at Grindbakken Skole. The school angle always gets parents interested and nervous. They always fall for it. Make big maps and then cross out in color markers all of the areas where your team has searched. You must make absolutely sure that it appears that you and your team are doing a lot of work on the case. . and spending a lot of money. . make sure that you put a lot of emphasis on how budget constraints are preventing you and your investigative team from doing everything possible.”

“But why the boy? Any reason in pArcticular sir?”

“Ja. The Minister of Justice wants the Prime Minister and the storting. . the parliament to approve a nine percent increase to our budget for the coming fiscal year. A cute little boy is after all the perfect poster boy when lobbying for a budget increase for the police.”

“I see.”

“Nilsen. . do you know those folks at the Ministry of the Environment?”

“No. What about them?”

“They got a twelve percent increase to their budget when they showed pictures and video of those cute seal puppies choking and dying in Russian solvents and pollutants in the Arctic.”

“Don’t worry boss. I know exactly what to do.”

Chapter 4

MIDSUMMER’S EVE, OR

THE LONGEST DAY OF THE YEAR, OR

1 YEAR AND 19 DAYS AFTER THE DAY,

FRIDAY, JUNE 4

“Where’s my Daddy?”

No one answered Karl Haugen.

The blinding sunshine fell on his eyes. He wondered where he was and why he could not see his father. So much time had passed and yet Karl Haugen felt as if he had last seen his father just a few minutes ago. He had lost track of time.

“Where’s my Daddy?”

Silence.

“I want to see my father!”

The Norwegian storting or parliament met in session. The ruling party confidently looked forward to a thorough grilling by the opposition parties on the danger to Norwegian banks from potential defaults on the government debt of poorly managed European Union countries like Spain and Greece.

After receiving recognition to speak Edvard Ruud stood up. He was the senior member of a small ultra right-wing opposition party that wanted to end immigration and other social engineering projects. Edvard Ruud stood silently for a long time before he said:

“Mister Speaker. . although high finance and the well-being of international bankers seem to be the primary concern of the Prime Minister and his government. . can the Prime Minister and his Minister of Justice explain why the government’s police have gotten absolutely no results on finding a Norwegian child who’s been missing now for twelve months. . The child is Karl Haugen age seven. . an innocent boy who mysteriously disappeared from his school in the middle of the day.”

The chamber erupted in shouts and catcalls which did not deter Edvard Ruud.

“Karl Haugen. . an innocent child and Norwegian citizen is. . in my opinion. . far more important than the foreign deadbeat countries that are always seeking bailouts and handouts from Norway and other countries whose citizens work hard and spend wisely.”

The Prime Minister stood up and said, “Does the right honorable member from Namsos actually have a question for me?. . I lost track of his question in his long speech.”

“Ja. I have three questions. Exactly when and how does your Minister of Justice plan on finding the little boy Karl Haugen and bringing him back home?. . Are the school children of Norway really safe when the police cannot find a little boy after one entire year of looking for him?. . Just what has been done to find Karl Haugen with all of the money and manpower that the Justice Minister asked for and got with his latest budget increase?”

Oslo Police Commissioner Ivar Thorsen could not believe his luck in getting invited to the exclusive Oustoen Country Club on Ostoya Island about 15 miles southwest of downtown Oslo. His efforts had paid off. His mother had taught him well. She always said, “Hang around rich and powerful people. Then do what the rich and powerful people do.”

“So,” said his boss, “you really play golf?”

“Ja!”

“Really? Alright then. You’re playing with me. Let’s go.”

They teed off and played in the glorious summer weather. His boss was driving the cart to the second hole when his boss suddenly stopped and said:

“We have a problem.”

“I took care of it. No one will ever know.”

“What? You did?”

“You know. . our last mayor. . his mistress getting a no-bid contract worth millions.”

“I’m not talking about that. I’m talking about the missing boy.”

“Karl Haugen?”

“Yes. The little shit is causing a lot of trouble.”

“I did what you told me to do. . to make it appear that we were doing something.”

“That’s no longer good enough. You see. . unfortunately someone higher up has taken an interest in the case. He wants a final solution. . he won’t tolerate any longer for us to appear as if we’re doing something.”

The two men played and moved on to the third hole.

“Who is interested?”

“The Minister of Justice and Police,” said his boss as he swung his four iron.

“Oh,” he said somewhat in shock that the boss of his boss’s boss had taken an interest in the boy. He had never heard of a member of cabinet taking an interest in such a matter. Powerful people surely had more important things to care about.

His wise mother had told him many many times, “The powerful only care about what’s good for them. Never forget that.” That’s what his mother had taught him and she knew very well how the world worked.

Penniless his mother had come to Oslo to work at a bank executive’s home as a maid. The poor but pretty peasant girl from a small village near the border with Sweden was no fool. She knew how the world worked and she became very good friends with the bank executive and his wife and their son and she soon got pregnant and very lucky as a single mother with permanent employment. She got lots of benefits and gifts from the bank executive