by Samuel Bjork
‘9, this is Delta 1, over.’
‘This is 9. What’s your position, over?’
Munch glanced at Kim, who sat with the Glock in his lap. He wore a bullet-proof vest and a grim expression on his face. Curry was sitting in the back; he, too, was wearing a bullet-proof vest and holding a pistol in his hand. They had driven down the forest track with the headlights switched off, and they could make out the house now; it wasn’t far away.
‘9, this is Delta 1. Eyes on location in forty metres. No target in sight, over.’
‘Delta 1, this is 9. Hold your position. Don’t shoot until I give the order. Received, over?’
‘9, this is Delta 1, received, over and out.’
‘It’s pitch black,’ Curry whispered, leaning forward between the seats.
Munch took out his night-vision binoculars and aimed them at the dilapidated old building in front of them. There was nothing to suggest that the small cottage was inhabited. That was probably the intention. The GPS coordinates from the film had taken them to this place. He was grateful to Gabriel Mørk, who, with the help of a friend, had managed to identify the location in record time. The guy had really turned out to be a find. Munch pressed the walkie-talkie again.
‘Delta 2, this is 9, come in.’
‘9, this is Delta 2, over.’
‘Position, over?’
‘This is Delta 2. We have two men behind the house, east. Three in front of the entrance, north-west. In position fifteen zero metres, over.’
‘Delta 2, this is 9. Await further instructions. Over and out.’
‘Strange that there’s not a single light, isn’t it?’ Kim Kolsø said as Munch handed him the night-vision binoculars.
‘Perhaps she’s not there?’ Curry wondered out loud.
‘Or they’re in the basement,’ Munch said.
He took the binoculars back from Kim and aimed them at the small house. There were three units attending. Two from the armed response unit, Delta, who had turned up with a group of marksmen and a SWAT team, in addition to Munch, Kim and Curry. Munch returned the binoculars to Kim and almost had to smile as he remembered how Ludvig and Gabriel had both insisted on coming with them. Ludvig was one thing – after all, he had been a police officer for a long time – but Gabriel? The boy had probably only ever let off fireworks. But he had guts. A real coup for the team, definitely. Munch had told them to man the office. He had enough officers.
‘Are we sure that she also has Mia?’ Kim said.
‘We don’t know, but at the same time we do, don’t we?’ Curry said.
‘Her car was found outside the care home,’ Munch said. ‘And the last message from her mobile was sent from somewhere on Drammensveien.’
‘Thrown out of a window, probably,’ Curry snarled.
‘Did you discover anything about the boy – Iversen?’ Munch said.
Kim had worked on his own case and come back just in time to join the team heading to the house.
‘I spoke to his teacher, Emilie Isaksen,’ Kim replied. ‘Very resourceful woman with a great social conscience. Wish there were more like her. The boy is gone. The parents are gone. She had just fetched the younger brother from the house; he had been without food for a week. I told her not to do anything on her own, but I doubt that she’ll listen. She’s probably on her way up to the forest to look for Tobias as we speak.’
‘Talk to Ludvig,’ Munch said. ‘Get Hønefoss Police to dispatch a unit.’
‘Already done.’ Kim nodded.
Munch nodded affirmatively in response. If you could trust anyone, it would be Kim Kolsø. Curry, however, he had to keep an eye on. Kim say motionless in the passenger seat, while Curry, in the back, could barely sit still.
‘So what do we do?’ Curry said, leaning forward between them again.
‘We wait,’ Munch said.
‘What are we waiting for? That crazy woman has Mia inside – who knows what she’s doing to her? Why don’t we just kick the door in and take the bitch out?’
‘Curry,’ Kim said, to calm him down.
‘I know what’s at stake,’ Munch said in a steady voice. ‘My granddaughter is in there.’
He gave Curry a look which could not be misinterpreted. Curry nodded, somewhat apologetically, and sat back down in his seat.
Marion was in there.
Munch pulled himself together. He couldn’t assume that mantle now. The mantle of grandfather. Mikkelson had tried to insist on Munch staying at home, letting others do the job, but not even a bulldozer could not have held Munch back. He raised the binoculars to his eyes again and looked towards the dark house.
‘How long do we wait?’ Curry said impatiently from the back.
‘Curry,’ Kim said again.
‘No, he’s right,’ Munch said gruffly. ‘There is nothing to wait for.’
He pressed the walkie-talkie again.
‘Delta 2, this is 9. Come in.’
‘9, this is Delta 2, over.’
‘Delta 2, this is 9. Stand by for entry.’
‘Delta 2, received. Over and out.’
Munch checked that the safety catch had been released on the Glock before nodding to the other two.
‘Are we ready?’
Kim nodded.
‘Oh, yes,’ Curry said.
Munch carefully opened the door and got out of the Audi as quietly as he could.
Chapter 83
Marion Munch awoke with that strange taste in her mouth again. She had had such a lovely dream. That she was at home, that her parents were there, and that everything was back to normal. She opened her eyes only to discover that she was still trapped in the small, white, chilly room. Still wearing the same stupid, cumbersome dress. She curled up under the thin duvet and started to cry. She didn’t know how long she had been there now, it was difficult to tell because the light never went off. She had looked for the switch, but there was no switch to be found, just cold walls and no windows or doors. Marion had cried so much that her eyes had almost run out of tears. She had banged on the walls, screamed and shouted, but no one had come. At first, she couldn’t understand why. They always came when she cried. Her parents, they would always come. Like the time she had had a temperature and dreamt that Pooh Bear had turned into a giant monster that was trying to eat her. At that time, both her parents had come immediately. But no one was coming now. Not to this room. No one took care of her. She was all alone.
Marion Munch stuck her thumb in her mouth and curled into a tiny ball on the bed. She had stopped sucking her thumb some time ago, but now she had started again. She pressed her tongue hard against her thumb; it felt safe and good. Licked her thumb. The nail felt rough. She took her thumb out of her mouth and stared at it in surprise. Someone had scratched something on to her fingernail. There was a dent there, almost like a letter. Like Vivian’s initial at nursery, V. She had a V on her thumb. Marion stuck her thumb into her mouth again and traced the sharp edges in the nail letter with her tongue.
At the start, she had drawn pictures. Or tried to draw pictures – it hadn’t been easy. There was no one she could show her drawings to; there was just her. She had drawn pictures of her parents and her grandfather. Then she had drawn a superhero. The superhero was a woman she could talk to and who would look after her, and since then being here had felt a little easier. There seemed to be no days in the white room. At home, it would be morning or day or night, it was easy to know when things happened, but here it was impossible. It was light all the time and there were no noises anywhere, except when her meals arrived from the hatch in the wall. The one with the noisy, wind-up monkey inside. The food was strange and not terribly good, but she had eaten it all up because she was incredibly hungry. Sometimes there would be a bottle of squash, but mostly it was just water. Eating and drinking was a mistake, because then she would need the loo. And there was no loo in the room, just a waste basket, and it really stank, it really did all the time. Marion had made a lid from paper from her sketchpad, and
that had reduced the stench a little. But, even so, she dreaded every time she had to remove the lid and squat down, because it was getting quite full and it was disgusting.
Even though it was light all the time, she didn’t find it difficult to sleep. Weird, really. The same thing would happen every time: After she had eaten, she would fall asleep. Even though she hadn’t felt tired at all. It was almost as if the food made her sleepy. As if the food was magic. She remembered Alice in Wonderland, who had felt strange after eating something – first she had turned big, then she had grown small – so magic food probably existed. Was it possible for food to be magic even though it tasted bad? Marion ran her tongue across the dent in her nail, just as she heard the wall started to hum again. Brr, vrr, the magic food was coming, it was travelling down to her through the wall. She got up and went over to the hatch. Stood there waiting for the food to land. She recognized the sounds now. Brr, vrr, brr, vrr and a clonk. Then she could open the hatch to see what she had got. It was mostly mashed potatoes and carrots and that stuff she didn’t like. Cauliflower. No, broccoli. Never pizza or sausages or tomato soup, never her favourite things. Marion waited for the clonk, still with her thumb in her mouth. Come to think of it, she never heard the service lift go back up again. It only ever came down. She would take out the food, eat it, and then the lift would come back down again. Because she had been asleep, was that it? It probably was. The magic food made her sleep, and then the lift would go up through the wall again while she was asleep; that had to be how it was.
There was a clonk. Marion Munch opened the hatch to see what was there. A bottle of squash this time, that was good. But the food looked revolting. There was something made from potatoes, and that green stuff again. Broccoli. She took the plate and the bottle out of the lift and sat down on the chair by the desk. She picked at the food with the fork which had accompanied it. She didn’t have much of an appetite now. Most of all, she wanted to cry. Not eat, just cry. She could feel the tears pressing, but she steeled herself. There was no point in crying. Not in this room. No one would come. No matter how many tears she cried. But, even so, she couldn’t manage it. Holding them back. She sat with the fork in her hand while she watched the tears drip down on her plate.
What if she didn’t eat the food? She had no idea where that thought had come from. Suddenly, it just appeared in her mind. What if she didn’t eat the food, then what? Would she stay awake? Would she hear the lift go back up again? She glanced at the hatch in the wall. How did she get that idea? Out of nothing and into her head. Because it was a brilliant idea, wasn’t it? If she didn’t eat the food, would the lift still go back up? She quickly got up and went over to the hatch. She opened it and peered inside. She could fit inside it, couldn’t she? She had hidden out in much smaller places. Once, they had played hide and seek and she had hidden in the saucepan cupboard in the kitchen, and no one had found her; in the end she had had to give herself up. And that cupboard was really tight; no one had suspected a thing, they had all been terribly impressed. She was going to trick the lift, that was her plan. She would pretend to eat the food but empty it into the lavatory bin, then put the plate in the corner with the others and lie down on the bed. The lift must go when she slept. Perhaps it would still do so if she pretended to be asleep? Marion positioned herself with her back to the lift and picked up the plate from the table. It was important that the lift didn’t see what she was doing. Or it might change its mind. She carefully raised the paper lid from the bin and tipped the food into it as swiftly as she could. She quickly sat down again and glanced at the hatch in the wall.
‘Oh, my tummy is all full now,’ she said out loud and patted her stomach a few times.
The lift did nothing. It had clearly not noticed anything was amiss.
‘Oh, I feel so tired now,’ she said, letting out a fake yawn.
She put the plate in the pile with the others and went to bed. She lay facing the lift and closed her eyes. She lay very still with her thumb in her mouth. She was good at lying still. That time she had hidden in the kitchen cupboard, she had lain still for … well, for a long time. So long that her parents had started calling her name. Marion squeezed her eyes shut and lay still, waiting for the lift to move. There was no sound. She could feel herself getting a little impatient. This was not like lying in the kitchen cupboard when she knew that there was someone outside. That someone was looking for her. Who would be delighted to find her. Here, there was no one. She felt the tears press against the inside of her eyelids again, but she managed to keep them at bay. If she was crying, then she couldn’t be asleep. The lift would probably know that. She stuck her thumb even deeper into her mouth and tried to think of something else. When she had curled up in the kitchen cupboard, she had made up a game in her head. A story. A story based on Monster High, a story she hadn’t seen on television, one she had invented all by herself. The time had flown by; it hadn’t been a problem at all. She pretended to be DracuLaura, who has forgotten to do her homework. This was a big mistake because the teacher would come soon, and then she would have to say that she hadn’t done her homework, and she didn’t want to do that. DracuLaura might seem like a tough girl, but she wanted to do well at school; the others might not think so, but that was what she wanted. But now she had forgotten it, her homework. She hadn’t meant to, it had just slipped her mind. There had been so much else going on. Marion was just about to decide why DracuLaura had forgotten to do her homework when she suddenly heard the lift starting to stir. Brr, vrr. On impulse she leapt out of bed and ran to the hatch. She quickly pulled it open and crept inside the hole in the wall. The lift was very small, and first she couldn’t get her foot inside. She pulled it in with a jerk and, suddenly, all of her was inside it. She was inside the lift! And it was going up!
The lift squeaked and creaked its way upwards through the wall, and she couldn’t see a thing. Marion curled into a tiny ball and tried not to be scared of the dark. Her heart pounded inside her small chest; she was almost afraid to breathe. Brr, vrr. It moved slowly, slowly upwards, and then, suddenly, clonk. The lift had stopped. The lift had stopped without noticing that she was inside it. She carefully nudged the hatch and discovered to her delight that it opened. Marion Munch climbed out of the hatch and stood on the floor with a gawping expression on her face.
She was in a living room. In a house she had never seen before. There weren’t any windows here either – no, there were, but the curtains were closed. There was a woman in a chair by a table in the middle of the room. Marion looked around and reluctantly walked up to the her. She had her eyes closed and grey tape covered her mouth. A tube with water or something from a bag was going into her hand.
Marion Munch stood in the middle of the room, not knowing what to do and glancing around frantically. There was a hallway with shoes and boots, just like at home. And a door. A front door. Marion tiptoed to the door. The stupid dress made it difficult for her to walk, and it also made a lot of stupid noise. Did she dare open the door? How would she know what might lie behind it? In this house where everything was so strange?
‘Stop!’
Marion Munch jumped when she heard the shrill woman’s voice behind her.
‘Stop! Stop!’
Marion Munch put her hand on the door handle, pushed open the door and ran out into the darkness as quickly as her little legs could carry her.
Chapter 84
Karianne Kolstad hated selling lottery tickets. Selling lottery tickets was the worst thing she knew. The fourteen-year-old had considered quitting the Girl Guides simply because of those stupid lottery tickets. She didn’t mind fundraising activities – she had picked strawberries and cleared rocks from fields for farmers – it was just these stupid lottery tickets she couldn’t stand. Karianne Kolstad was shy; that was the reason she hated selling lottery tickets. She had to ring people’s doorbells and talk to them.
Karianne Kolstad tightened her jacket and walked down the road to Tom Lauritz Larsen’s farm. She didn�
�t mind knocking on his door; she knew he would be all right. The pig farmer was a bit eccentric, but he was nice and she had spoken to him before. The last time she called he had bought practically all her tickets. She hoped she might be just as lucky today. Karianne Kolstad opened the gate and entered the farmyard.
Tom Lauritz Larsen had become something of a minor celebrity after someone had decapitated one of his sows. Their local newspaper, Hamar Arbeiderblad, had written about it several times. First, when the head went missing, and then when it reappeared. ‘Local pig found on stake in Babes in the Wood case’ had been the headline, and there had been photographs of Larsen, as well as his farmhand.
Karianne Kolstad knew everything about the dead girls; she had read every word about the case in the newspapers. There had been meetings as well, first at school, then with the Girl Guides, then in the village hall, where everyone had turned up – not just people who had daughters about to start school, but practically everyone in the village. They had lit candles for the dead and missing girls and she had helped start a Facebook group to show her respect for them. Starting a Facebook group was easy, all she had to do was sit in front of her laptop; not like now, when she had to talk to real people. She went up to the farmhouse and knocked on the door. It was starting to get dark, but the light was on in the kitchen window. She could hear music, too, so he was probably at home. She knocked again and the door opened. She breathed in and braced herself, trying to put on a smile.
‘Hello?’ Larsen said, looking at her kindly. ‘Are you out selling lottery tickets again?’
Phew, thank God, at least she wouldn’t have to tell him that.
‘Yes,’ she nodded, relieved.
‘You had better come in,’ Larsen said, looking out into the darkness behind her.
‘Are you out this late all on your own?’ he asked when she had stepped inside the kitchen.
‘Yes.’ Karianne nodded, shyly.
