Hans Lahlum - The Catalyst Killing

Having said this, he blanched a little. I humoured him, pretended to take notes, and assured him that this information would be taken into consideration before any decision was made regarding charges. I asked then if he knew if there had ever been any romantic liaisons in the group other than the well-known relationship between Falko and Marie.

At first, Trond Ibsen shook his head emphatically, and then looked very serious and pensive. I asked him to tell me what he was thinking. He hesitated, but then launched forth when I started to look increasingly agitated.

‘On my oath, I don’t know whether there have been any other romantic liaisons. Certainly not as far as I am concerned, and I think you can forget Miriam Filtvedt Bentsen in that context…’

He fell silent again and glanced around the room, as if he were looking for an emergency exit.

‘But…’ I prompted.

He nodded, and his response was then fast and intense.

‘ But , now that you ask, it is easy to see that the apparently confident Anders suffers from a little brother complex. To an extent in relation to me, but mostly in relation to Falko, of course. Anders is the youngest in his family, he struggles financially, he did not get top marks at university and has only had modest success as an artist. He has without much joy tried to take over Falko’s role as leader in the group. The idea that he might also try to take over Falko’s fiancée in his attempt to achieve this has crossed my mind. I thought that Anders, who otherwise does not have much empathy, showed her a surprising amount of sympathy for a while. But I cannot imagine that it got him anywhere. He was three years below Falko, and she has immense self-control and comes from a better background, and is no doubt very particular about who she lets into bed. It would of course have been very controversial within the group, especially so long as Falko’s fate remained unknown. But for Anders it would certainly be the ultimate self-assertion, in terms of how he saw himself and how others saw him.’

I nodded and this time really did take notes.

‘But nothing in terms of Kristine, at any point?’

Trond Ibsen thought for a moment, but then shook his head again.

‘I have never seen Kristine with a boyfriend, or heard her say that she had one. It’s rather odd, really, as she is such a beautiful and kind girl. But she has dedicated herself to our cause and her studies. And as I have discovered myself, that doesn’t leave much time to find someone and have a relationship. Of course, Kristine admired Falko more than anything in the world, as we all did, but he was taken and I don’t think she was open to anyone else. At one point, I wondered if Anders might not be interested in her, but that was long before Falko disappeared, and I reckon he was given the cold shoulder.’

He laughed a little. I noted that there was clearly a rivalry between the two remaining men in the group. I swiftly changed the subject by remarking that he had not told me that Johannes Heftye was his uncle, or that he had spoken to him about developments in Falko’s thesis.

Trond Ibsen was definitely an intelligent and balanced man. He looked suitably confused for a moment, but then nodded and continued.

‘You mean on his sixty-fifth birthday? Yes, my uncle and I did have a brief conversation about it. Falko had been very secretive and evasive about his work for a few months, so naturally I was curious. I had thought of asking Falko face to face when no one else was around, but never found the opportunity before he disappeared.’

‘And you can rule out that it had anything to do with his disappearance?’

Trond Ibsen furrowed his brow and looked at me.

‘It is of course not possible to rule out completely that developments in Falko’s thesis had anything to do with his disappearance. But I would guess the opposite to be true. And the fact that I knew about these developments definitely had nothing to do with it. I had nothing to do with his disappearance whatsoever, and did not tell anyone about the thesis in the meantime.’

I did not have any more questions, and Trond Ibsen did not have any more answers to the ones I had already asked. We sat and looked at each other in charged silence.

He asked with a wisp of worry in his voice whether he was suspected of having done something criminal. I chose to answer ‘not at present’, but asked him to remain available for possible further questioning. He nodded, and enquired if there was anything more I would like to ask. When I said no, he stood up and rapidly left the office.

I now had a greater understanding of how the case was gnawing at the remaining members of the group, now that one was dead, one was missing and one was in custody. But I still did not feel that I could trust any of them.

Just after half past eleven, the telephone on my desk rang. The call was from a rather flustered technician who felt it was his duty to tell me about a finding that was potentially of great interest. The cassette had been wiped, but not very well. On the edge of the tape was an incomplete, but still recognizable, fingerprint. It belonged to one of the five members of the group around Falko, who had all provided fingerprints after his disappearance in 1968.

When I heard who had left the fingerprint, I sat deep in thought for a few minutes with the telephone receiver in my hand. Then I dialled Patricia’s number and asked if it would be possible to have a quick lunch meeting, as there had been a sensational new development in the case.

‘So, whose fingerprints do you think we found on the police security service’s recording of Marie Morgenstierne’s last meeting?’ I asked, and reached out to help myself to a piece of cake.

Patricia’s eyes were steady and confident when they met mine. She answered before I had reached the cake.

‘Almost certainly Marie Morgenstierne’s own fingerprints. I have for several days now suspected that it was she herself who was in contact with the security service. But to have this confirmed is still a very important step forward, so congratulations.’

I thanked her for the rare compliment and hurried on without waiting for any possible jibes.

‘So the others were right that there was a mole in the group, but they were wrong about who it was. It was Marie Morgenstierne, not Miriam Filtvedt Bentsen, who was the informer. And if any of them had discovered this, they could all have a possible motive for murder.’

Patricia nodded, and chewed thoughtfully on a piece of cake before she answered.

‘Betrayal is always a possible motive for murder, particularly in sect-like political and religious groups such as this one. And it would now appear that Marie Morgenstierne was an informer. But that does not mean that she was one before Falko Reinhardt disappeared. You should put pressure on the head of the security service and demand to know when she became their informant. You are in a far better position to force him to tell you the truth now. Particularly if you then add that a representative of the security police was obviously at the scene of the crime.’

I looked in astonishment at Patricia, who sighed heavily.

‘Dear detective inspector, the situation should be fairly clear by now. Given that Marie Morgenstierne took the recording with her when she left the meeting, she must have passed it on to someone before she started to run. It is no coincidence that there was a man with a suitcase walking behind her, and that he still has not come forward. He is of course the person she gave the tape to. And therefore a very interesting witness. Ask to speak to him as soon as possible!’

I nodded, fascinated, wondering desperately how I should present this to the head of the police security service without setting myself up for a fall if Patricia’s reasoning proved for once to be wrong.