Smoke Screen

by Jorn Lier Horst

  ‘When are you out?’ she asked to round off the interview.

  ‘August.’

  ‘Have you thought about what you will do?’

  There was a moment of silence.

  ‘You mean with work, that kind of thing?’

  Emma nodded.

  ‘No, not yet,’ he said. ‘It depends on what happens.’

  ‘What do you mean?’

  ‘With Patricia,’ Isaksen clarified. ‘If they find her. If not, I’ll have to look for her myself.’

  Emma put the pen down. She had got exactly what she had wanted. At the same time, however, she felt as if he were keeping something back.

  37

  Via the screen on the wall, Blix watched as Sophus Ahlander was led into the interview room. His lawyer was already sat in there waiting for him. Ahlander threw his arms out and shook his head. There was no audio transmission, so Blix couldn’t hear the exchange between them, but it was clear that the atmosphere in the room was tense.

  Blix was just preparing to head in himself when his phone rang. It was Kovic.

  ‘The results for the fingerprint analysis have come back. It is Nina Ballangrud,’ she said. ‘She was the one who was injured in the explosion.’

  Blix wasn’t surprised.

  ‘What about Ruth-Kristine’s phone?’ he asked. ‘Have you started tracking it?’

  ‘Yes. It looks like it’s gone completely offline. The last time any data was recorded on it was on the first of January at 09:43. There haven’t been any other calls or texts since New Year’s Eve.’

  ‘Is it still being traced?’ Blix enquired.

  ‘We’ll be notified whenever it’s used again,’ Kovic confirmed.

  ‘Good.’

  ‘What’s going on in Vestfold?’

  Blix glanced up at the screen. Ahlander had sat down. The lawyer was looking at his watch.

  ‘I’m using one of the interview rooms here,’ he said, proceeding to tell her about the dummy they had found during their preliminary search of the cabin.

  ‘One of the officers is on their way to you with it now. I want Ann-Mari Sara to take it when it gets there. She needs to get the lab to put everything else on hold. I have to know if Patricia’s DNA is on it.’

  There was a knock on the door. Jan Olimb appeared.

  ‘They’re ready,’ he said with a nod towards the screen.

  Blix ended the conversation with Kovic.

  ‘Me too,’ he replied, tucking the phone back into his pocket.

  He entered the narrow interview room and introduced himself. The lawyer representing Ahlander was Vidar Rødland; he’d travelled down from Oslo.

  ‘My client has already given a full confession,’ he said. ‘Although it could be deemed as a case of negligence, he has nonetheless pleaded guilty to causing bodily harm by opening the door too forcefully, such that the journalist was hit in the face, and to his subsequent threatening behaviour. He has also pleaded guilty to drug use and possession. I don’t know what else you could want. There’s nothing in the documents I’ve been sent that would suggest there are any grounds for keeping him here this long.’

  ‘I have a few unanswered questions,’ Blix said.

  The lawyer crossed one leg over the other and looked at Ahlander. Ahlander shrugged.

  ‘Let’s get this over with,’ the lawyer said, nodding at Blix. ‘But let me remind you that this Emma Ramm did not at any time or in any way make it known that she was a journalist.’

  ‘No, she didn’t get the chance to.’

  ‘She should have called first and organised a meeting, instead of approaching my client in such an inappropriate way.’

  ‘How long have you had the cabin?’ Blix said, unperturbed, turning to face Ahlander.

  ‘What do you mean?’ he asked. He sounded irritated.

  ‘You inherited it from your mother after she died last summer, right?’ Blix continued.

  ‘Yes, that’s right. Dad bought it in the eighties.’

  Blix leafed through his papers. ‘In 1983?’

  ‘Yes,’ Ahlander nodded. ‘He died fifteen years ago.’

  ‘Have you spent a lot of time there?’

  Ahlander shook his head. ‘No, there’s nothing there,’ he replied. ‘No ski slopes or anything. There are a couple of lakes for fishing nearby. Dad loved that kind of thing. Being out in nature. Not for me. And Mum’s legs got so bad that there wasn’t anything she could do there either. Most of the time, it was just Dad up there by himself.’

  ‘So how many times would you say you’ve been to the cabin since your father died in 2004?’ Blix asked.

  Ahlander shrugged, the corners of his mouth turning down into a frown. ‘I’ve no idea,’ he said. ‘Once a year, maybe. Why?’

  Blix didn’t answer him. This initial conversation was just to ensure that Ahlander couldn’t construct a plausible excuse later on as to how the dummy had ended up at the cabin.

  ‘Who has keys to the cabin?’ he carried on.

  ‘Me.’

  ‘Just you?’

  ‘Yes. There are two keys. I have both.’

  ‘Has the cabin ever been loaned or rented out to anyone?’

  ‘No?’

  ‘Have you ever taken any friends, acquaintances or anyone else there?’

  ‘I guess so. A few friends.’

  ‘Have there ever been any trespassers? Break-ins, that kind of thing?’

  Sophus Ahlander shrugged again, looking like he was unsure of where the conversation was going. ‘No…’ he answered.

  Blix took a few notes, and checked to make sure that the red light was on, that the interview was being recorded.

  ‘Have there ever been any children at the cabin?’ he asked.

  He watched the man sat on the opposite side of the table, saw how the question triggered a physical reaction in him. He stiffened, eyes darted up to look directly at Blix.

  ‘No,’ he replied, swallowing. ‘Not that I know of.’

  The lawyer glanced over at his client. He looked as if he wanted to interrupt, but didn’t.

  ‘Not even when your father was there?’ Blix continued.

  ‘I don’t know about that. I was just a kid when he bought it.’

  Blix checked his papers. ‘You were twelve?’

  ‘Yes.’

  ‘Could your father have had any other children with him at the cabin?’

  Ahlander thought about it, but shook his head: he couldn’t think of anyone.

  The lawyer leant forwards. ‘What is this about, exactly?’ he asked.

  His expression was cautious. Blix imagined that he was probably speculating about a case of paedophilia.

  ‘Right then,’ he said, ignoring the lawyer’s question. He flipped a page of his notebook over, as if to signal a change in topic, then leant over the table slightly.

  ‘Did you think it was Ruth-Kristine looking for you last night?’ he asked.

  A few beads of sweat had appeared on Ahlander’s upper lip. He opened his mouth, but closed it again without answering.

  ‘Who is Ruth-Kristine?’ the lawyer asked.

  ‘Ruth-Kristine Smeplass,’ Blix said, without taking his eyes off Ahlander. ‘How do you know her?’

  ‘She’s just a friend,’ Ahlander replied without looking up. ‘From a long time ago—’

  The lawyer cut him off, looking like he’d suddenly realised something. ‘Is this to do with the Patricia case?’

  ‘First and foremost, this is to do with Ruth-Kristine Smeplass,’ Blix answered. ‘She’s been missing since New Year’s Eve.’

  The lawyer snorted. ‘What are you talking about?’ he asked. ‘She was injured in the first explosion. I read about it a few hours ago. That same journalist had written about it. Emma Ramm.’

  ‘You can’t believe everything you read,’ Blix commented. Then addressed Ahlander again. ‘You were one of the last people she spoke to on the phone,’ he said. ‘Altogether, a total of twenty-one calls were recorded, but you only
picked up twice. Once on the twenty-ninth of December, at 17:02. A conversation that lasted for four minutes and thirty-four seconds.’

  Ahlander stared down at the floor.

  ‘What did you talk about?’ Blix pressed.

  The lawyer stood up. ‘We’re done,’ he said.

  ‘And why is that?’ Blix asked.

  ‘This interview has taken a direction that involves matters that do not relate to the case my client has been charged with,’ the lawyer answered. ‘This all sounds like some sort of conspiracy, especially considering the person involved in the first case against Ahlander is the journalist publishing false information about this other case.’

  Blix looked over at Ahlander. He wanted to continue questioning him, to ask how he had known Knut Ivar Skage, but knew that he had pushed him as far as he could this time.

  ‘We’re going to expand your charges and transfer you to Oslo,’ Blix said.

  ‘For what?’ the lawyer challenged.

  ‘For the kidnapping and false imprisonment of Patricia Storm Isaksen.’

  38

  Kalle’s Choice was packed, even on the first floor, where Emma’s usual table was. She still managed to find a free spot, a little further inside the café than where she liked, and once she sat down, took a sip of the latte she had just bought. With the help of her earphones and some music, she managed to shut out the noise of the room around her.

  The visit to Oslo Prison and the conversation she had shared with Christer Storm Isaksen had made a lasting impression on her. Isaksen gave off an aura of grief and despair, even all these years later. She had a clear plan in mind as to how she would construct his story, but it would have to wait.

  She browsed through the search history on her phone and found the article about Ruth-Kristine and her neighbour, Jette Djurholm. Emma wanted to talk to Jette. Ten years on, she may see things differently. Perhaps she had changed her perspective, about everything that happened back then.

  She couldn’t find a phone number for her, though, and tried googling the name instead, only to be met with the same news articles she had read earlier. However, a quick search through the Danish yellow pages told her that there was a Jette Djurholm who lived in Horsens.

  Emma called the number. She let it ring for a while, before sighing and hanging up.

  She saved the number. It was three minutes to three. She could call Blix.

  He surprised her by picking up immediately. Emma could hear that he was in a car.

  ‘I’ve spoken to Patricia’s father,’ she said, hearing the pride in her voice, in the fact that she had actually managed to pull it off.

  ‘In prison?’ Blix asked.

  ‘Yes,’ Emma said. ‘He told me everything.’

  ‘Everything?’ She thought she sensed an uneasiness in his voice, as if he were afraid that Isaksen had said too much, or had mentioned something he shouldn’t have.

  ‘You can read about it,’ she said, instead of pushing the matter any further. ‘What did Ahlander say?’

  ‘He confessed to the bodily harm and threatening behaviour charges,’ Blix said. ‘You can apply for compensation for what happened.’

  ‘I was thinking more about Ruth-Kristine,’ Emma said. ‘What did he say about her?’

  Other than the sound of the passing traffic in the background, the line was completely silent. As if Blix was working out what to say.

  ‘Are you there?’ Emma asked, pushing for an answer.

  ‘There’s been a development…’ Blix began, only to hesitate again.

  ‘What is it?’

  ‘The woman in the hospital is not Ruth-Kristine Smeplass.’

  Emma had been absentmindedly fumbling with the cable attached to her earphones, and now she accidentally pulled one of them out.

  ‘What did you say?’ she had to ask, shoving it back into her ear again.

  ‘The injured woman, it’s not Ruth-Kristine,’ Blix repeated.

  ‘But…’ Emma began, not sure where to even start.

  ‘It is true that the woman we rescued from the harbour after the explosion was registered at the hospital as Ruth-Kristine Smeplass,’ Blix continued. ‘I don’t know how you got the name, but it’s wrong.’

  Emma thought of her sister, who had tracked it down for her.

  ‘But … we’ve been talking about Ruth-Kristine this whole time,’ Emma protested. ‘Gard Fosse confirmed that it was her. I’ve just written an entire article based on her. Other media outlets have picked it up.’

  ‘We also had reason to believe that it was Ruth-Kristine,’ Blix said, adding that Fosse would be sending out a press release later that day.

  Emma lay her free hand on her forehead, trying to gather her thoughts. She could try and get ahead of the police, but would need some solid facts to get an article together first, so that the mishap couldn’t be traced back to her and news.no.

  ‘Who is it then?’ she asked.

  Blix paused again.

  ‘Come on,’ she pleaded. ‘I have to be able to clear this mess up.’

  ‘A friend of Ruth-Kristine’s,’ he replied. ‘Nina Ballangrud.’

  ‘You’re sure of that?’

  ‘Yes.’

  ‘But how could this happen?’

  ‘They’re saying it was a misunderstanding and then a series of unfortunate circumstances.’

  Emma noted that down. She could make it look like it was a mistake the police had made. It was their mistake.

  ‘What sort of circumstances?’ she asked.

  ‘I can’t go into detail,’ Blix replied.

  ‘How did you find out about the error?’ she continued.

  ‘You’ve got all the details I can give you,’ Blix said. ‘More than that, actually.’

  Emma thanked him.

  ‘But you didn’t hear any of this from me,’ Blix added. ‘You will have to get confirmation from the lead investigator.’

  ‘Sure,’ Emma said. ‘But can you tell me where Ruth-Kristine Smeplass is now then?’

  ‘We don’t know either,’ Blix answered. ‘She’s been missing since New Year’s Eve.’

  Emma’s eyebrows furrowed. ‘What do you mean? Missing how?’

  ‘I have to go,’ Blix said. ‘You’ll need to talk to Fosse.’

  He hung up.

  Emma felt restless, now that there seemed to be some movement in the case. She wanted Blix to tell her more about Ahlander, to ask him what kind of impression he’d had of Jette Djurholm, those times he had questioned her.

  She sat, still wearing her earphones, unsure of who to call first. Anita Grønvold or Gard Fosse. She called the police superintendent, feigning a relaxed tone.

  ‘I’m meeting with Ruth-Kristine Smeplass’s parents in a bit,’ she began. ‘And I wondered if there were any new developments in the case, anything I should know before I see them?’

  It was just on the verge of being a complete and utter lie. She intended to meet the parents, of course, but the way she had phrased it had made it seem as if the meeting were imminent.

  There was a grunt on the other end of the line. ‘Have they not said anything?’ Fosse asked.

  ‘Who? The parents? About what?’

  She heard Fosse release a long sigh. ‘We are in the process of organising a press briefing in which we will be withdrawing the information about the identity of one of the injured,’ he said.

  Emma feigned surprise, and then teased out of him the same information Blix had given her a moment earlier. And then she pretended to be annoyed.

  ‘I have already written a comprehensive article based on the information I received from you yesterday,’ she said.

  ‘We had the same information as the hospital, and had every reason to believe it was correct,’ he added in what seemed like an attempt to divert the blame.

  ‘So you’re apologising?’ Emma replied.

  ‘Absolutely,’ Fosse confirmed.

  Emma noted: The police apologise.

  ‘Will you be saying that
the police made a mistake?’

  Fosse didn’t take the bait. ‘We’ll be going through everything and will evaluate what happened,’ he said instead. ‘And then we’ll learn from it.’

  Emma thanked him for the conversation, took her earphones out and raised the cup to her lips. The coffee was cold. She put it down, opened up her laptop and hammered out just over a thousand characters, the word ‘scandal’ taking precedence at the top of the page. She sent the article over to Anita and called her immediately after.

  ‘Read my article,’ she said without an explanation. ‘I’ve just sent it over.’

  ‘Jesus Christ,’ Anita exclaimed, obviously already making her way through it.

  ‘We should publish it before the press release,’ Emma said.

  ‘I’m on it,’ Anita answered.

  ‘What are we going to do about the article we published this morning?’ Emma asked. ‘The one where we named Ruth-Kristine? It’s completely out of context now that she’s not one of the victims.’

  ‘What do you think?’

  Emma bit her bottom lip.

  ‘I think we should retract it,’ she replied. ‘But then I can write a new article about her mysterious disappearance. That way I can include some of the information from my meeting with Christer Storm Isaksen too.’

  ‘Good plan,’ Anita said. ‘Maybe you can try and get a new statement from her parents as well.’

  39

  Amy Linh stopped outside 620. No glasses, plates or cutlery had been left outside this time. The Do Not Disturb sign was still hanging on the door handle.

  She knocked anyway, tentatively. It had been four days since she had last been in there. He could be sick, or something could have happened.

  There was no response.

  She knocked again, a little harder than before.

  ‘Housekeeping,’ she added resolutely, pressing her ear to the door.

  No answer. The TV, on the other hand, was still on. Someone was talking. Dramatic music.

  Four days in a row. Without wanting to be disturbed.