by Samuel Bjork
‘Not quite.’
‘Satanism?’
‘Yes, of course.’
‘Many people think that Aleister Crowley was the man behind OTO, but he wasn’t; Crowley didn’t join until 1904, when he—’
‘What did you say before that?’
‘What?’
‘Thelemite teaching?’
‘Do what thou wilt,’ Larsen said, turning towards her.
‘What does that mean?’
‘You need to bear in mind that, at that time, the Church—’ Larsen began, but Mia did not have the energy for a lecture.
‘The short version?’
Larsen looked at her and shook his head. ‘You said you wanted to know.’ He sounded a little hurt.
‘Sorry, Sebastian,’ she said, putting her hand on his shoulder. ‘It has been a long couple of days. So this organization …?’
‘Ordo Templi Orientis.’
‘It exists here in Norway?’
‘Oh, yes, alive and kicking. Has its own senate established in 2008. Lodges in most major cities; Bergen and Trondheim have figured prominently in recent years.’
‘And they live according to this … thelemite teaching?’
‘Do what thou wilt shall be the whole of the law,’ Larsen quoted again.
‘And what does that mean?’
He turned with a small smile. ‘What do you think it means, Mia? Do what you want?’
‘Enlighten me,’ Mia said.
‘The rights of the individual. Resistance against government control. Against the teachings of the Church. Against the conventional moral and ethical norms forced upon us.’
‘Which means?’
‘Oh, come on, Mia, are you even listening to me?’
Larsen looked at her and shook his head. He was right, Mia thought: he had just inhaled illegal substances from God knows where, and yet his brain was working better than hers.
She slipped her hand into her pocket again.
Another pill?
No, she had to sleep now. Her body was on the verge of giving up. She needed to rest soon.
‘Of course I’m listening,’ Mia mumbled, turning to the screen again. ‘OTO. Satanism. Thelemite teaching. Do what you will. Alive and kicking in Norway today.’
‘They keep their rituals secret, like all other sects,’ Larsen said. ‘I’ve spoken to some of them – well, former members – and it’s serious stuff.’
‘Like what?’
‘Sexual magic. Ritual sacrifice. Break away from society. Give away your body. Give away your mind. Be free.’
‘Sexual magic?’
Larsen smiled faintly now. ‘Yep.’
‘Which means what exactly?’
‘Well, if one of the senators wants you to take off your clothes and devote yourself to thelemite teaching in front of old men wearing masks, then you do it.’
‘Senators?’
‘Yes, interesting, isn’t it?’ Larsen said. ‘How all these sects, which claim to exist in order to escape the strict controls society imposes, end up being just as controlling? They promise you freedom, but there’s no freedom with them. Of course there isn’t.’
‘And you think this looks like them?’ Mia said, pointing at the screen again.
‘Way too early to say,’ Larsen replied. ‘Do you have anything else to show me?’
‘Who else have we got?’
‘Take your pick,’ Larsen said, bringing up another webpage on his screen.
Google Maps this time. He typed in an address and leaned back.
‘What are we looking at?’ Mia said.
‘The Palace.’
‘What do you mean?’
‘The official residence of the Norwegian royal family,’ Larsen said, expanding the picture a little. ‘This is Parkveien. You know where Parkveien is?’
Mia looked at him with a frown. Of course she knew. It was one of the most expensive streets in Norway, in the heart of Oslo, home of the Prime Minister and several embassies.
‘Where are you going with this?’
‘These organizations all have their addresses on Parkveien,’ Larsen said, clicking a few more times. ‘I mean, right behind the Palace. The Order of Norwegian Druids.’
‘Druids?’
‘Yes. Address Parkveien.’
Larsen clicked again. ‘The Order of the Knights Templar. Address Parkveien.’
‘And all these … I mean … the pentagram?’
Mia thought she was about to pass out.
‘No, I’m not saying that. It’s most likely either OTO or the sect your boss belongs to.’
‘Munch?’
Larsen laughed out loud. ‘No, not Munch, I don’t think he would feel at home there.’
‘Then who?’
Larsen brought up yet another website.
‘Mikkelson,’ said the thin man, pointing at the screen.
‘Mikkelson?’
‘Yep. Rikard Mikkelson.’ Larsen nodded. ‘Proud member of the Norwegian Order of Freemasons.’
Mia suddenly felt a little more awake. ‘Freemasons?’
‘Oh, yes, they love pentagrams. They’re desperate to come across as pillars of the community, God-fearing, hah … Did you see the video where the grandmasters of the Thirty-third Degree are dressed in gowns with their willies hanging out as they sacrifice a goat?’
‘No,’ Mia said, not quite sure whether to believe him now.
Was Larsen still high, or was it the academic talking?
‘Mikkelson is a member. As are most of the great and the good in this country. Freemasons, Mia. Grown men who take part in rituals. They join hands. They dress up in costumes. They drink blood from silver goblets. Oh, how gullible we are. Do you really think decisions about this country are made in government meetings?’
Larsen reached out for the bong on the table and lit it again.
‘Sebastian,’ she said earnestly, fixing her eyes on the small, skinny man in front of her.
‘Yes?’ Larsen said.
‘I’m about to show you something. Something I obviously should not be showing you, but I’m going to do it anyway.’
‘OK.’
He seemed almost a little nervous now.
‘I need you to tell me exactly what you think, OK?’
‘Yes, of course.’
‘I appreciate it. What you’ve just shown me. I’ll look into it, but right now I need something specific from you, OK?’
Mia got up, went out into the passage and took the folder from her bag. She came back to the messy living room and squatted down on her haunches in front of Larsen, who was almost as excited as a little kid now. Mia opened the file, and she watched his eyes widen as she placed the photograph of Camilla Green on the table in front of him.
‘Shit.’
‘Yep,’ Mia said. ‘And let me make this absolutely clear, Sebastian, if I ever hear even a squeak about this, on your blog or anywhere else, that you have seen this picture, then I, well, I don’t know …’
‘I get it.’ Larsen nodded earnestly, and she could see that he meant it.
‘You see why I’ve come to you? It’s not random, how these candles have been arranged?’ Mia had seen Munch stagger out of the incident room earlier today, barely able to speak clearly, and she was starting to feel the same way.
‘Oh, no, no, a pentagram is, well, for people who believe in it, it’s …’ Larsen drifted off, studying the image in front of him. ‘Well, there’s the standard interpretation.’ Larsen cleared his throat; he was quite lucid now.
Being a specialist in theories was one thing, but being face to face with the reality, a picture of a seventeen-year-old girl naked on a bed of feathers, surrounded by a pentagram of candles, there was no doubt that he struggled to take it in.
‘Let’s pretend I know nothing,’ Mia said. ‘Teach me.’
‘OK.’ Larsen nodded nervously. ‘The pentagram has, as you know from its name, five corners. And each one of them symbolizes something.’
; ‘What?’
‘The traditional interpretation is quite standard. Shall I take it from the top, clockwise …?’
Her mobile started to vibrate. Mia picked it up, struggling to focus on the name on the display. Kim Kolsø. She pressed the red button and returned the phone to her pocket.
‘The soul is at the top,’ Sebastian said.
‘Go on,’ Mia said.
‘The other points are water, fire, earth, air.’
‘Water, fire, earth, air?’
‘Yes.’
‘OK, great. Thank you, Sebastian.’
Mia took the picture from the table and was about to put it back in the file when she was stopped by a thin hand.
‘But that’s just – how can I put it? – the standard version. Kids’ stuff. There is a deeper interpretation.’
‘Go on?’
Larsen stared at the photograph again.
‘Birth, virgin, mother, law, death,’ he said in a low voice, not taking his eyes off the photograph.
Mia stifled a yawn.
‘And look how her arms have been arranged,’ he continued.
‘How are they arranged, in your opinion?’
‘Birth. And mother.’ The skinny man nodded gravely.
Mia fumbled to get her mobile out of her pocket and call for a cab.
‘Thank you, Sebastian.’
‘It can’t be a coincidence, can it?’
Mia smiled at him and put the photograph into her bag as she got up.
Sleep. She could not put it off any longer.
‘Birth and mother,’ Larsen said gravely.
‘Thank you, Sebastian,’ said Mia again.
She stumbled down the stairs and fell into the cab that was waiting for her.
Chapter 37
They had moved on, visiting several cafés; Marion would be spending the night with Grannie, and, as predicted, she was overjoyed about it. Miriam had not had a reply from Johannes. She had tried calling him, half hoping he would ride to her rescue, but he had not picked up his phone or replied to her text messages.
She stared into her glass, which was already empty again. Ziggy was outside, talking on his mobile. Miriam Munch could not help watching him furtively through the window as he stood there, gesturing on the pavement with a smile on his lips; just the sight of him made her warm all over. She went up to the bar and ordered another two beers as Ziggy came back through the doors.
‘Another one here?’ He winked. ‘You don’t want to escape to another bar?’
‘No, do you?’
‘No, it’s all the same to me,’ the handsome young man said with a light shrug.
‘Or perhaps you need to go home?’ Miriam said, carrying the beers back to the table.
Ziggy smiled. ‘Definitely not. And you?’
‘No,’ Miriam said resolutely, clinking her glass against his.
This was a quieter bar with soft music, where the lighting was muted, with booths where they could hide away. Miriam slipped her hand across the table and felt his warm fingers mesh with hers.
‘Important call?’
‘Oh, it was only Jacob.’
‘Jacob who?’
‘You’ve met him,’ Ziggy reminded her.
‘Have I?’ Miriam giggled over the rim of her beer glass.
‘At Julie’s party? Round glasses? Likes to look smart?’
‘Oh, yes, of course.’ Miriam nodded, remembering him now. The boy who had made a pathetic attempt at chatting her up until he realized that she was a mother.
‘So do you think we should …?’ he said, caressing her cheek softly.
‘Yes, Jon-Sigvard. I do. I mean, if you do?’
He laughed under his fringe.
‘Just as long as you don’t call me Jon-Sigvard,’ he said, and took a swig of his beer.
‘Deal.’ Miriam smiled, and laughed as well.
‘It’s just that …’ Ziggy said, cupping his hands around his glass now; he continued to stare into his drink.
‘It’s just that what?’
‘Well, what if you discover things about me that you don’t like?’ he said, looking up at her again.
‘That’s the chance we’ll have to take, isn’t it? You might discover things about me that you don’t like, mightn’t you?’ She smiled at him.
‘I very much doubt that.’
‘You’re an idiot.’
‘No, I mean it,’ Ziggy said, bordering on serious now.
‘What do you mean?’
‘I feel I’m putting you in a difficult situation. With Marion and everything …’
‘I’m a grown woman,’ Miriam said. ‘Marion will be fine whatever happens.’
‘Yes, but even so,’ Ziggy said, wavering again.
‘What?’
‘What if I were to tell you that I do things that might land me in prison?’
‘What do you mean?’ Miriam laughed.
‘That I’m a criminal?’ Ziggy said.
Miriam giggled again before she realized that he was serious.
‘I find that hard to believe. What do you do, rob banks?’
‘No, I don’t rob banks.’ He winked at her. ‘But …’
Miriam was intrigued now. She could see he wanted to tell her something.
‘I mean, family life and all that, maybe my lifestyle doesn’t fit in with … Oh, I don’t know.’
He fidgeted with his glass.
Miriam waited for the alarm bells to ring; she had a sixth sense for such things, but nothing happened.
‘I like you, Miriam,’ he said, taking her hand again.
‘I like you too, Ziggy.’
‘If I tell you a secret, can you handle it?’
‘I’m sure I can. Have you killed someone?’
‘What? No, Christ, do you believe I’m capable of that?’ Ziggy looked horrified.
‘Well, I don’t know,’ Miriam said. ‘You tell me you might go to prison, but that you’re not a bank robber, what am I supposed to believe?’
Too much alcohol. She could feel it now. The words came out of her mouth without having gone through her brain.
‘OK,’ Ziggy said, looking as if he had finally made up his mind. ‘You know the place where we met, don’t you?’
‘The Animal Protection League shelter,’ Miriam said.
‘Yes, well, for me, volunteering has never been enough.’
‘What do you mean?’
‘People who mistreat animals. I hate it.’
‘Of course.’
‘No, I don’t think you quite understand, I hate it.’
She had never seen that expression in his eyes before.
‘And that’s what we’re talking about? That’s what makes you a “criminal”?’ Miriam made quotation marks with her fingers.
‘In the eyes of the law,’ Ziggy said, picking up his mobile from the table, pressing some keys and sliding it across to her.
An old newspaper article: ‘Animal activists raid Løken Farm.’
‘That was you?’ Miriam was taken aback.
Ziggy nodded.
‘Løken Farm? That place out on Mysen that takes in cats and dogs and sells them on for animal testing abroad?’ Miriam had followed the story closely. Quietly rooting for the animals and their saviours.
He nodded again.
‘You raided the farm in the middle of the night. You saved several animals, didn’t you?’
‘Yes,’ Ziggy said.
‘And you were scared to tell me this?’
He nodded.
‘You had no reason to be.’ Miriam chuckled. ‘Hell, I’ll join you.’
‘Are you serious?’ Ziggy said.
‘What do you think?’ Miriam said. ‘Those bastards? Any time.’
He was smiling broadly now.
‘Was that what your call was about?’
‘Which call?’
‘The one you just had with … what’s his name … Joakim?’
‘Jacob.’
‘Yes, sorry, was
that what it was about?’
Ziggy nodded under his fringe.
‘What are you planning?’
He glanced around quickly, a moment of paranoia, as if anyone in the dark bar would care.
‘A new place,’ Ziggy said, pressing a few keys on his mobile and sliding it across to her again.
Miriam was not quite sure what she was looking at.
‘What’s this?’
‘A pharmaceutical company. Atlantis Farms.’
‘Atlantis Farms? That’s a terrible name.’ Miriam smiled. ‘Don’t these companies usually sound a bit zingier? Novartis? AstraZeneca? Pfizer?’
‘It’s not the name of the company, just a testing station in Hurum. They experiment on all kinds of animals. But no one seems to care, it’s as if someone higher up the system is, well, you can barely find the place on the map, but we’ve managed to …’
Ziggy leaned back in the booth again and suddenly seemed reticent, as if he had said too much. He took another swig of his beer and looked around the room. Miriam slid his phone back across the table.
‘Yes,’ she said, and now she was smiling again.
The young man looked puzzled, not sure what she meant.
‘Yes,’ she said again, extending her hand across the table.
‘Yes to what?’ Ziggy said.
‘To what you asked me earlier today,’ Miriam said, cautiously caressing his arm.
‘Yes?’
‘Yes.’
‘Are you sure?’
‘I am.’ Miriam nodded. ‘I like you.’
‘I like you too,’ Ziggy said, and looked down.
It took a few seconds before he spoke again.
‘I don’t know if this is something you’re supposed to ask, but …’
‘What is it?’
‘Please may I kiss you?’
‘You may.’ Miriam Munch smiled again, and took a quick breath before she closed her eyes and slowly leaned forwards.
Chapter 38
Mia awoke with a start, but stayed where she was, gasping for air. It was a nightmare. It was not real. She sat up on her mattress, cradling her head in her hands, her heart pounding under her jumper. She had fallen asleep fully dressed, and had been sweating so much that her clothes were sticking to her body.
Shit.
She had truly believed it. Normally, she slept soundly. Normally, she had soothing dreams, as if there were a kind of wall inside her so that, no matter how much evil she faced when awake, goodness would take over when she put her head on the pillow and nodded off. But not this time.
