ignore that. This wouldn’t be a twenty-minute conviction. If we try to bring the bastard in, we’ve got to be sure it will stick. There’ll be a huge outcry anyway. If he’s released, there’ll be hell to pay.”
Despite Hakon’s scepticism, Kaldbakken was convinced. And none of the others could argue with the irascible authoritarian chief inspector on matters of professional police work. The seven officers went through the case again as it stood, item by item, sifted out the untenable, made a list of what more was needed, and at the end had the outline of a charge.
“Drugs,” said the chief inspector in conclusion. “It’s drugs we’ll have to take him on. We don’t need to wade in too heavily in the first instance, perhaps we should make do with the twenty-four grams we seized at Frostrup’s place.”
“No, we’d have to broaden it out beyond that. If we only go for that amount, we’re denying ourselves the opportunity to use things not specifically connected with it. If we’re to have any chance at all here, we have to throw in everything we’ve got. There’s so much on the list which is pretty worthless that we have to be able to put it before the Court all together.”
Hakon seemed more confident now. His heart was thumping like a helicopter rotor at the thought that they were finally on the verge of a breakthrough.
“We’ll draw up a charge of a general nature, with unspecified times and unspecified quantities, and we’ll go for the gang theory, relying on Han van der Kerch’s statement that there actually is a syndicate behind it. Go for broke.”
“And we can say we’ve had tip-offs!” The snub-nosed young constable couldn’t restrain himself. “It usually does the trick in drugs cases, so I’ve heard!”
There was another painful silence. Hanne calmly intervened before Chief Inspector Kaldbakken could demolish him.
“That we
“Anyway, it’s a complete fallacy. The worst possible thing in a magistrate’s court is anonymous tip-offs. So now you know,” she added.
The lad had been sufficiently rebuked, and the meeting was brought to a close. Hanne and Hakon stayed on.
“This will have to be cleared with the commissioner. And with the public prosecutor. And to cover our backs I should really check with the palace.”
It was plain that Hakon wasn’t entirely happy at the thought of what lay ahead. Dejection had set in once the beating helicopter rotors had come to a standstill. What he wanted most was to ask Hanne if she would apply for the arrest warrant.
She sat down beside him on the little sofa. To his amazement she placed her hand on his knee and leant familiarly against his shoulder. A faint aroma of a perfume he didn’t recognise made him take a deep breath.
“Now it’s really beginning,” she said in a low voice. “All we’ve done so far is collect tiny fragments, a bit here, a bit there, so minute that it hasn’t been worthwhile trying to fit the jigsaw together. It’s now we have to get started properly. There are still loads of pieces missing, but can’t you see the picture, Hakon? Don’t give up! We’re the good guys. Don’t forget that.”
“It doesn’t always seem like it,” Hakon replied sullenly.
He put his hand on hers, which was still resting on his knee. To his even greater astonishment she didn’t withdraw it.
“We’ll have to try, anyway,” he said wanly, letting go of her hand and standing up. “Make sure you get everything done that’s necessary for the arrest. I assume you want to arrest him yourself.”
“Yeah, you bet your bottom dollar I do,” she said vehemently.
They were all there. The commissioner, in a newly pressed uniform, serious and stiff-backed, as if she had lain awkwardly during the night. The public prosecutor, a flabby little fellow in a pilot shirt with small shrewd eyes behind pebble lenses, had got the best chair. The head of the drugs squad-who was only deputising, because the real one was acting chief constable in Honefoss, where the chief constable himself was deputising for the public prosecutor, now on temporary appointment as a high court judge-had also ironed his uniform for the occasion. It was rather skimpy, and his shirt was hanging out untidily over his pot belly. He looked benevolent, like a jovial P. C. Plod, with a round red face and thin grey curly hair. Lady Justitia was on the table in her customary position, with her scales held high and sword poised for execution.
One of the clerical staff knocked on the door. She served coffee without a word, in plastic cups. Hanne Wilhelmsen and Hakon Sand were served last. Nor did they get full cups. It hardly mattered; Hanne didn’t even have a sip of hers before she stood up. It took about half an hour to present the case. The content was the same as earlier in the day, though more structured. But since then she had also got something else. She smiled for the first time as she added:
“A sniffer-dog has identified the money!”
The head of the drugs squad gave a nod of acknowledgement, but as both the commissioner and the public prosecutor looked uncomprehending, she elaborated further.
“The money has been in contact with drugs. Or most probably: someone has touched the money immediately after handling drugs. That’s a little piece of the jigsaw we really needed. Unfortunately it wasn’t the note that had the fingerprints on, but even so…”
“About the fingerprints,” the public prosecutor interrupted. “From a legal viewpoint, you haven’t got Lavik’s fingerprints. So we have to ignore everything that depends on them when we consider the issue of the arrest warrant. Have you taken that into account?”
He looked at Hakon, who rose from his seat and joined Hanne at the flip chart.
“Yes, indeed we have. We bring him in on the second charge, take his fingerprints immediately, and arrange with Forensics for them to have an official report ready on Monday morning. That should fit in. We plan to arrest Lavik and Roger the car salesman tomorrow afternoon. No one could expect us to have the committal application ready by Saturday in a case of this magnitude. So we’d have till one o’clock on Monday to draw up an application that will hold water. From that point of view, Friday afternoon is the optimum time for the arrest.”
There was silence. The commissioner, who looked nervous and unwell, was sitting bolt upright in her chair with her back unsupported. This case might prove a burden for the police that they could well do without. The commissioner’s job had turned out to be a lot more arduous than she had imagined. Problems and criticism every single day. This was an affair that could really blow up in her face. An artery throbbed uncomfortably in her gaunt neck.
The head of the drugs squad still retained his inappropriate smile. With his sheep-like grin and squinting eyes he didn’t give an impression of great intelligence. The public prosecutor got up and crossed to the window. He stood with his back to them and spoke as if his audience were on scaffolding outside.
“Strictly speaking we ought to have the approval of the Court for an arrest,” he said loudly. “All hell will be let loose if we don’t go to the Court first.”
“But we never do that,” Hakon protested.
“No,” said the public prosecutor, swinging round. “But we ought to! But… it’s you who’ll take the rap. Have you worked out how you’re going to defend yourselves?”
Strangely enough, Hakon was gradually becoming less nervous. The public prosecutor was actually on his side.
“Well, the situation is this: we won’t get an arrest if we don’t include the fingerprints; we won’t get the fingerprints before we’ve arrested him. Hopefully his defence counsel will have more than enough to do over the weekend, far too much to concern himself with formalities. I’m willing to take any flak afterwards. And since it’s up to us to gauge the need to involve the Court in seeking an arrest warrant, it’s not something we can really be hauled over the coals for. We’ll just be severely reprimanded. I can take that.”
The little man in the safari shirt smiled and addressed himself to Hanne.
“What about you? Have you completely recovered from the attack now?”
