Smoke Screen

by Jorn Lier Horst

  ‘I’m driving down to Tønsberg after we’ve met with Ruth-Kristine’s parents at the hospital,’ he finished. ‘Where are Wibe and Abelvik?’

  ‘On their way to Nina Ballangrud’s flat. They’re meeting a locksmith there. Perhaps they’ll end up finding her in there, dead from an overdose or something.’

  Blix raised the cup to his mouth. ‘Let’s hope that it’s not or something,’ he said, turning to his computer screen. They had half an hour before they had to leave for the University Hospital at Ullevål. He wanted to use that time to review everything they had collected during the investigation so far, so he could give Nikolaj and Sonja Smeplass as many details and answers as possible. They were sure to have a lot of questions.

  ‘They’ve found photos of the perpetrator of the bombing in Frogner Park,’ Kovic said.

  Blix rolled his chair over to her desk. She was looking at a map of the city centre, markers plotted across it from the various CCTV cameras that had captured footage of him.

  ‘It’s the same man we saw by the harbour,’ Kovic said, clicking on a blue marker in the Majorstua district.

  An image of a man walking along the pavement. He was facing away from the camera. Blix tilted his head. The man was dressed in the same clothing he had been wearing in the surveillance footage they had of him following the explosion on New Year’s Eve. He was carrying a shopping bag from Kiwi again.

  ‘They’ve started calling him the Kiwi man,’ Kovic commented.

  ‘The media?’

  Kovic nodded.

  ‘This is on his way to the park.’

  She clicked on the red marker from the same camera.

  ‘And this is four minutes after the bomb went off.’

  It was the same man, but without the shopping bag. He was walking away, head bowed. It would be impossible to identify him from the recordings. CCTV cameras were often mounted either on a roof or so high up on a wall they couldn’t be vandalised, so they were usually angled down at the ground, making it impossible to see people’s faces properly.

  ‘Same man, same type of bomb,’ Kovic summarised. ‘I don’t see how you can still think this has something to do with Ruth-Kristine. It has to be a coincidence that she was there at the exact moment the bomb went off.’

  ‘Maybe,’ Blix conceded.

  ‘He must come from somewhere around this area,’ Kovic continued, pointing at the middle of the screen and drawing a circle.

  Blix agreed. The site of the explosion in Frogner Park was about three kilometres northwest of City Hall. The circle Kovic had drawn was between the site of both bombs and was the area in which the CCTV had caught him walking before and after the explosion at the harbour. The footage they had found before and after the explosion in Frogner Park showed that he had walked to and from the exact same area.

  Majorstua.

  ‘We should survey everyone who lives in that district,’ Kovic said. ‘Contact all the hotels and landlords.’

  ‘You can be the one to tell Gard Fosse and PST how to do their jobs,’ Blix suggested.

  Kovic smiled and suppressed a yawn.

  ‘He might just have parked his car somewhere there, though,’ Blix pointed out, pushing himself back round to his own desk.

  ‘We have to leave in ten minutes,’ Kovic reminded him.

  Blix nodded. He studied the record from Ruth-Kristine’s phone log, looking again at how she had repeatedly tried to contact Sophus Ahlander in the days before New Year’s Eve.

  ‘She’s been to his house,’ he said.

  This time it was Kovic’s turn to roll over to his desk. Blix pointed to the line that showed one of the last times she had tried to get hold of him, on the 30th of December. The call had gone through the phone mast next to Haslum tram station.

  ‘Maybe that’s why he went to stay at his cabin in Vestfold?’ Kovic suggested, rolling back round again. ‘To get away from her.’

  Blix loaded the entire document the telecommunications company had sent over and looked more closely at the other data.

  ‘I think we might have missed something,’ he said.

  ‘Like what?’

  ‘The data we’ve got stops at nine o’clock in the morning of the first of January,’ Blix began.

  ‘That’s when we contacted the phone company,’ Kovic nodded. ‘The records are saved from up to three months ago.’

  ‘But there’s activity on her phone from after midnight,’ Blix said.

  Kovic scooted over again. He angled the screen towards her.

  ‘We’ve only been looking at her calls and texts,’ he said. ‘But her phone was still connected to the internet after the bomb went off. A lot of other activity has been recorded throughout the night. Data traffic, as if someone had been using the internet or were searching for something online.’

  ‘Her phone was never found,’ Kovic recalled, squinting at the column detailing which base station had been activated.

  ‘They’re all coming from Holmlia, all night,’ Blix said.

  ‘Maybe she left it in the flat?’ Kovic wondered.

  ‘But who was using it?’

  Kovic shrugged. ‘I don’t know enough about this,’ she admitted, standing up. ‘We can’t tell what kind of activity that is. Maybe your phone automatically downloads updates or something?’

  Blix thought about it.

  ‘We have to find that phone,’ he said.

  ‘We know it’s not in her flat at least,’ Kovic commented.

  ‘We’ll have to put a trace on it,’ Blix concluded. ‘Someone might still be using it.’

  ‘I’ll sort that,’ Kovic said, pulling on the jacket that had been draped over the back of her chair. ‘But now we really have to go.’

  32

  The hospital ward Ruth-Kristine was being treated on was full. Blix approached a doctor to get an update on her condition.

  ‘She had to be put into a medically induced coma, and she’s now on life support and all her vital functions are under constant observation,’ the doctor explained.

  ‘Will she survive?’ Kovic asked.

  ‘It’s still too early to know for sure,’ the doctor replied. ‘But even if her condition does stabilise, she will most likely be in a vegetative state after coming out of the coma.’

  Blix swore internally. He had hoped that he would be able to talk to her at some point.

  The doctor received a message.

  ‘Her parents have just arrived,’ he announced. ‘I’ll talk to them in my office first.’

  ‘Take as long as you need. We’ll be in here,’ Blix said, pointing towards the waiting room.

  Twenty minutes later, the doctor returned with Nikolaj and Sonja Smeplass. Blix approached them with his hand outstretched. Nikolaj Smeplass took it immediately. His palm was clammy. His wife nodded at them. Her cheeks had fresh traces of tears.

  Blix started to say something, but was interrupted.

  ‘We want to see her first,’ Nikolaj Smeplass said. ‘We can talk afterwards.’

  The doctor led them down the corridor, pushed open a door and let the parents go in first.

  Blix and Kovic entered and stood just inside the room, while Nikolaj and Sonja Smeplass approached the bed cautiously, as if afraid that their movements would inflict further harm.

  Ruth-Kristine Smeplass was lying under a duvet, bandaged from head to toe. Her face was almost entirely covered. The beeping from the machines surrounding her filled the room. A nurse had been standing next to the bed, but moved aside when they entered.

  Sonja Smeplass’s hand shot up to cover her mouth. She started crying again. Nikolaj Smeplass put an arm around her, pulled her close to him. They stood like that for several minutes. Sonja Smeplass sniffled.

  ‘Can I…?’ She cleared her throat and turned to the nurse. ‘Can I hold her hand?’ she asked a little clearer, but still as quiet as a whisper. ‘Can I touch it?’

  ‘Yes, but hold the left one,’ the nurse answered. ‘The right one is … bandaged.’<
br />
  The Smeplass couple moved over to the other side. Blix and Kovic watched their slow, careful movements. Gently, Sonja Smeplass lifted the duvet and extracted Ruth-Kristine’s hand. It looked like any ordinary hand. The skin was smooth, just a little paler than normal. No wounds.

  Sonja Smeplass held it tenderly. Squeezed it lightly. Stroked it. Turned it over, and let it rest in her own hand.

  A sound came from somewhere deep in her throat.

  ‘What is it?’ her husband asked, as if he had noticed a change in his wife’s demeanour.

  ‘I don’t know,’ she answered. ‘It feels strange, in a way. Smaller, thinner.’

  She turned to the doctor, as if she had just realised something.

  ‘Have you taken her ring?’ she asked.

  The doctor glanced at the nurse.

  ‘That’s routine procedure,’ he explained.

  Sonja Smeplass turned to her husband. ‘The one from your mother,’ she said, angling the pale hand towards him so he could see. ‘She wouldn’t have taken it off herself. You were happy about that, it meant that she wouldn’t sell it.’

  Blix felt the indent on his finger, the place where he had worn his wedding ring for years. He started to feel unsettled, an uneasiness in the pit of his stomach. Blix walked over to the bed and looked at the hand of the woman lying there. The pale fingers showed no trace of her having worn any ring.

  ‘Could she have worn it on the other hand?’ Kovic asked, noticing the same thing.

  Sonja Smeplass glanced over at her daughter’s other hand, which was heavily bandaged.

  ‘No,’ she replied. ‘Definitely the left.’

  Blix looked at the doctor and thought about the activity that had been logged on Ruth-Kristine’s phone after the explosion.

  ‘Can we … see any other part of her?’ Nikolaj Smeplass asked. ‘She had surgery on her left knee when she was fourteen. She was left with a huge scar afterwards.’

  The nurse turned to the doctor, who nodded in approval. He walked to the bed and lifted aside the duvet for them.

  Most of the leg was bandaged, but the knee was visible.

  Sonja Smeplass’s hand hovered over her mouth again. Blix saw the same thing they had seen. No scar.

  ‘This is not Ruth-Kristine,’ Nikolaj Smeplass said, pointing at the person lying on the bed in front of them. ‘This is not our daughter.’

  33

  ‘Why the hell are you only just figuring this out now?’ Gard Fosse bellowed down the phone.

  ‘The identification was based on the fact that Ruth-Kristine’s bank card was found in her jacket pocket,’ Blix said. ‘And all the other circumstances pointed to it being her. No one has seen her since New Year’s Eve. The last thing we know for sure that she did, was book a taxi into the city centre.’

  ‘That’s not enough information to have gone public with,’ Fosse snarled.

  Blix wanted to remind his boss that it was actually his decision to inform the media.

  ‘Her parents have only just been able to come and see her,’ he said instead. ‘They live abroad.’

  ‘Hasn’t anyone else been to visit her?’ Fosse raged. ‘No one could have found this out before now?’

  Following routine, Blix had asked the hospital staff to keep a visitor list, but he hadn’t had time to look at it yet.

  ‘Her face was wounded in the explosion,’ he said. ‘It’s completely bandaged up.’

  ‘We’re going to look like idiots,’ the police superintendent snorted. ‘Releasing the wrong ID of someone on their deathbed.’

  Kovic rolled her eyes. She was stood next to Blix and could hear the whole conversation.

  ‘So who is it, then?’ Fosse carried on, just as aggressively. ‘Who is she?’

  ‘We believe it might be Nina Ballangrud,’ Blix said. ‘Her friend.’

  ‘You believe?!’

  ‘We know that she was the last person Ruth-Kristine was in contact with over the phone, and she has been missing since New Year’s Eve too. She was most likely the one who took the cab from Homlia and paid with Ruth-Kristine’s bank card. There is every reason to believe that—’

  ‘We’re not going to believe anything,’ Fosse interrupted.

  ‘No, of course not,’ Blix said. ‘We are working on finding out who it is. Both Ruth-Kristine Smeplass and Nina Ballangrud are registered on the fingerprint database. We’ll have answers in a few hours.’

  Fosse took a deep breath.

  ‘This means that Ruth-Kristine is alive then?’ he continued, his voice a little calmer.

  ‘Maybe,’ Blix replied. ‘Maybe not. She hasn’t been heard from since New Year’s Eve. It’s a mystery in any case, and finding her is our top priority.’

  There was a moment of silence on the other end of the line.

  ‘Fine,’ Fosse said finally. ‘We must deny this publicly. Let me know the second the fingerprint analysis comes back.’

  Blix walked into the hallway where Ruth-Kristine’s parents were waiting. He didn’t know what to say, but he tried to approach the situation as gently as possible.

  Nikolaj Smeplass shook his head. ‘Making us go through something like that?’ he muttered. His voice was trembling. Blix could hear his indignation, but traces of relief too.

  Blix apologised. It sounded flat and empty, but he had to say it, to let them know.

  ‘We’re happy to know she’s alive at least,’ Nikolaj Smeplass continued.

  Blix glanced at Sonja. She refused to look at him.

  ‘Do you have any idea where she might be?’ he asked.

  ‘We haven’t had much contact with her in the last couple of years,’ Nikolaj said.

  ‘Why not?’

  ‘She didn’t want to. Wanted to live her own life, was what she said. We … tried to call her every now and then, but she shut us out.’

  Blix took a notebook out of his jacket. ‘And she gave no explanation as to why that was?’

  ‘No, it…’ Nikolaj looked over at his wife. ‘We don’t really know why it turned out that way, but it was after everything that had happened with Patricia. Everything fell apart after that.’

  Blix jotted down some notes.

  ‘No friends she would visit?’ he continued. ‘Who might live elsewhere, outside of the city?’

  They shook their heads simultaneously.

  ‘What about her sister?’ Blix asked. ‘You said the other day that you didn’t think they had much to do with each other. But we know Ruth-Kristine called Britt two days before Christmas. Twice, in fact.’

  ‘Is that so?’ Nikolaj replied. ‘I … I didn’t know anything about that. We … haven’t spoken to Britt in the last few days.’

  ‘You haven’t?’ Blix looked up from his notebook.

  ‘No, we haven’t been able to get hold of her.’

  Kovic came over to them. She was putting her phone back into her jacket pocket and nodded briefly at Blix.

  ‘We haven’t had any luck getting in touch with her either,’ Blix said.

  He looked down at the notebook, mostly to have something to do while he thought.

  ‘Where are you staying while you’re in Norway?’ Kovic asked.

  ‘We had hoped that we could stay with Britt,’ Nikolaj replied. ‘She inherited the house after we moved to Spain. We’re heading over there later on. But we’re going to visit Sonja’s sister first.’

  ‘If Ruth-Kristine contacts you, or if you manage to get hold of her in any other way, you must let me know immediately,’ said Blix. ‘Either me or someone else in the police.’

  The couple shared a look again.

  ‘We will,’ Nikolaj answered, nodding at Blix.

  ‘Great. Thank you. And again, I’m so sorry.’

  Ruth-Kristine’s parents left the room through the sliding door. Nikolaj let Sonja go first. He placed a gentle hand on her shoulder.

  ‘Well that was uncomfortable,’ Kovic said bitterly once it was just her and Blix in the room.

  Blix took a deep
breath.

  ‘Right,’ he said. ‘Let’s see if we can find the visitor list. It might prove interesting.’

  They walked back to reception. A nurse in his late twenties started searching through the papers on the desk. Blix glanced at his watch.

  ‘Do you mind taking care of the fingerprints?’ he asked. ‘I have to go down to Tønsberg to talk to Ahlander.’

  ‘Ann-Mari Sara is going to work on it,’ Kovic nodded. Sara was one of the forensic technicians. ‘I’ve already organised it with her.’

  The nurse handed Blix a clipboard with a ballpoint pen attached to it.

  ‘She hasn’t had many visitors,’ he said.

  Blix saw that there were only three names listed – Svein-Erik Haugseth, Mona Grandre and Christina Gjerdrum. The first was her boyfriend. The others had been mentioned somewhere in passing before, two of her friends. Their arrival times showed that they had come together.

  ‘Hm,’ he muttered.

  ‘What is it?’ Kovic asked.

  ‘Her sister hasn’t been to visit.’

  He looked at Kovic, and added:

  ‘Isn’t that a bit odd?’

  34

  It was much easier organising a visit to see Christer Storm Isaksen than Emma had expected. He wanted to meet with her. The prison officer who had called her back had said that it usually took three to four weeks to book a visit, but that the situation was a bit different for journalists. She was even allowed to visit outside the usual visiting hours. All she had to do was give them her social security number so they could check her criminal record.

  She had never been inside a prison before, and was gripped by a sudden feeling of claustrophobia when the door to the visiting room closed behind her, and the gaunt officer left to fetch Isaksen.

  The room looked as if it had been recently renovated. The furniture was new, and the walls were bare, as if no one had had the chance to hang anything on them yet.

  She walked over to the window and stood there, staring into the courtyard. A few birds were up to something in one of the flower beds. She lay her hand against the glass and felt a rush of uncertainty and nervousness.