Bogman (20 page)

Katrine granted him a quick smile before turning back to the screen. “I’ve made a list of the addresses. They were nearly all checked in the door-to-door. Here they are,” she tapped a file on her desk, not taking her eyes from the screen. “I’m looking for Lennart Praetorius. I want to know when he was reported missing. I searched only for males aged twenty to twenty-eight missing between 1996 to 1999. That’s what Brix said. I was worried I’d left him out of the list by mistake. The grandparents told us they didn’t report Bogman, I mean Lennart, missing until a year after they’d last seen him.” She shook her head. “I still think of him as Bogman.”
 

“Me too.”
 

Katrine scrolled down a list of names. “I can’t find him in 1999.”
 

“The wrinklies probably left it more than a year,” said Eddy. “The older you are, the faster time passes.”

“It must be flying past you, then, Eddy,” said Katrine. She flashed a smile at him and continued scrolling.
 

“I’ve found him.” She clapped her hands. “February 2nd 2000. Lennart Lars Praetorius. Helsinger. Reported missing by Jesper and Hanne Hedegaarde.” She smacked her forehead. “I should have extended the search into 2000. But we got sidelined by Bruno Holst. The guy who turned up alive in Germany.”

“Don’t beat yourself up about it,” said Eddy. “We wouldn’t have identified him without the bracelet. Unless the grandparents mention it in the report.”

“I’ll ask Helsinger to send over the file,” said Katrine.
 

“Tell them it’s urgent,” said Eddy. “Or you won’t get it for ages. The boss is still waiting for the file on Emily’s stepfather.”
 

Tobias was in the library at Jyellands Posten, settling himself at a machine which magnified microfiches. The librarian had organised the newspaper’s reports of the protests at Skovlynd golf in date order. The room was dark and quiet. The only sound was the click of the machine as it moved the microfiches into the frames.
 

There were ten brief stories – each two paragraphs at most – about the demonstrations at Skovlynd. The first report was from April 1996. The last was dated September 1998. There was a statement from the protesters, who called themselves the Green Brigade. The ten signatories to the statement included Emily Rasmussen, Nicholas Hove and Gudrun Pettersen, but not Lennart Praetorius and not anyone named Aksel Schmidt, or Aksel anything. None of the reports mentioned him.

One report quoted Kurt Malling:
“I too am concerned about the environment. My company is developing several green energy projects. This club will bring jobs to the area. It is supported by local businesses and services. Most of the forest will still be in place. Bechstein’s Bat will not be affected.”
 

The newspaper had printed a letter in reply from Nicholas Hove:
“Our concern is not only about protecting the habitat of Bechstein’s bat but about the widespread use of chemical pesticides and fertilisers on golf courses, the excess use of water for irrigation and the impact on the wetlands around Skovlynd.”
 

Tobias stood up and stretched. He began to think rooting through rubbish might be more interesting. All the roads to Emily seemed to finish in dead-ends. He sat down again and squinted into the viewing machine. A centre-spread about the protests clicked into view. This was better. There were ten paragraphs with names and quotes, and four large photographs.
 

Tobias zoomed in on a black and white photograph of Emily and Lennart – easily recognisable now – in the rain, hair plastered against their faces, holding up a dripping banner: TREES NOT TEES: SAY NO TO GOLF. No caption. The photograph said it all.

The second photograph, also in black and white, was a sideways view of Emily and Lennart, facing a tall man sheltering under a golf umbrella and flanked by police. It was captioned
‘Stand-off’
.

The third photograph was a reverse of the previous one. Kurt Malling, under the umbrella, stiff with anger. ‘
Skovlynd developer Kurt Malling unmoved by protests
’, was the caption.

The fourth photograph showed three protesters dragging a sodden and muddy tent to the side of the road. ‘
Weather more effective than police. Storm sweeps away camp of the eco-warriors
’. Tobias enlarged it. Emily and Nicholas Hove. Who was the third man in photograph? Could it be Aksel?
 

Tobias printed the stories and the photographs and marked the date on each report. He wrote, “Aksel?” on the back of the fourth photograph and booked a motorbike courier to take it to Nicholas Hove.
 

Tuesday: Week Three

32.
 

“She can’t have vanished into thin air,” said Larsen. He stared at the photograph of Emily on the board in the Incident Room. “She must have done something, somewhere.”

“The story was on television last night, and in the evening papers, with Emily’s photograph,” said Tobias. “And Lennart’s photograph as well. Last seen with Emily Rasmussen and so on. It was on television and in all the papers, local and national, this morning. It was on radio last night and again this morning.”

“Fifty-three people telephoned last night,” said Katrine. “Three were mediums, offering to get in touch with Emily through the spirit world.”
 

Larsen rolled his eyes.
 

“One caller was sure Emily was living next door to her in Ribe. West Jutland sent three squad cars at midnight and wakened a kindergarten teacher who looked a bit like the photographs but was definitely not Emily.”
 

“She looks like half the women in Denmark,” said Larsen gloomily. “At least she’s not a kiddy. We’d have thousands of calls and they’d all be useless.” He waved at Katrine to continue.
 

“Ten callers wanted to know if there was a reward,” said Katrine. “They didn’t have any information.”

“We haven’t the budget for a reward,” said Larsen.
 

“Fifteen callers thought they’d seen Emily in the last few days. Every location was different. She was spotted in ten different places on the same day at roughly the same time. Never at an address.” Katrine glanced at her notes. “She was seen walking on the beach, in a café, in a cinema. One woman said she was with Emily at a bus stop when she vaporised in front of her eyes.”

“These appeals always bring out the nutters, the chancers and the snoopers,” said Renata. “Did any sane people call?”

“Fourteen women and two men called to tell us they’d met Emily in environmental groups at least ten years ago,” said Katrine. “They were vague about dates but they all mentioned the Skovlynd protest. Ten of the women and one of the men remembered Lennart as well. All of them thought Emily had gone to join another protest somewhere. Lapland was mentioned, but also Germany, England and Estonia. None of them had anything concrete to add to what we already know.”
 

“Nicholas Hove and Gudrun Jeppessen both mentioned an activist called Aksel. Possibly Aksel Schmidt, but Gudrun isn’t sure,” said Tobias. “Did anyone called Aksel get in touch?”

 
Katrine shook her head.
 

“Either she’s dead, or she wanted to disappear,” said Eddy. “It’s not that difficult. You can buy a false identity online. Or she could just use cash, not buy a mobile phone in her own name. The things that trace you are mostly electronic.”
 

“Any progress on the Hotmail and Facebook front, Renata?” asked Tobias.

“The request is with the US State Department. I’m still waiting for an answer.”

“Can we hurry them up?”

“Only if we suggest she has some kind of terrorist link. That gets them moving double-double quick.”

“Tempting,” said Eddy.

Larsen stared stonily at him.
 

“Only joking,” said Eddy.

“Emily was arrested at the Skovlynd protest,” said Tobias.
 

“September tenth, 1998,” said Eddy. “There’s no video of the interview. She was released without charge.”

“That’s a pity,” said Renata. “That might have helped with the Americans. They’re jumpy about eco-terrorists.”

“With good cause,” said Larsen. “Nutters, all of them.”

Tobias thought about Agnes. Passionate, naïve perhaps. But not a terrorist, and definitely not mad.
 

“Emily’s fingerprints are on file. That’s useful,” said Eddy. “She can be identified even if she’s changed her appearance.”

“No sign of the blue van?” asked Tobias.

Eddy shook his head. “Even Khazakstan has automatic number plate recognition. But the van hasn’t been seen anywhere. It’s vaporised as well.”
 

“Her mother got an email from her on the 24th September 1998, saying she was going away with Lennart,” said Tobias. “We must find out where those emails are coming from.”
 

“I’ll ask Foreign Affairs if there’s anyone I can speak to directly in the State Department,” said Renata. She picked up her papers and slipped out of the room.
 

“Emily made the complaint about her stepfather before she went away,” said Tobias. “There might be something useful in the file. Registry hasn’t sent it over yet.”
 

“Cuts,” said Larsen gloomily.
 

“Her photograph went to all Swedish police departments,” said Tobias.
 

“They’re nomads aren’t they? She could be wandering with the ruddy reindeer herds,” said Eddy. “Living with Eskimos in the Arctic circle for all we know.”

“We’ll send her photograph and details to Norway and Finland as well,” said Tobias. “In case Emily has gone to a different part of Lapland.”

“Right.” Larsen stood up to indicate the meeting was over. “Send them to the rest of Europe as well.” He paused on his way out the door. “Send them to the whole bloody world while we’re about it.” The door swung shut behind him.
 

“What next?” asked Katrine.

“We need to find Aksel Schmidt or whatever his name is,” said Tobias.
 

“I’ve looked on the national database,” said Katrine. “The only Aksel Schmidts are all under twenty-five, which makes them too young at the time Emily disappeared. I’ve checked the list of green activists and can’t find anyone named Aksel. He seems to have vaporised as well.”

“Suppose all three of them, Emily, Lennart and Aksel were otter watching together, and there was some kind of argument,” said Eddy. “A fight over Emily. Let’s say they both fancied her. Aksel kills Lennart. He and Emily carry Lennart’s body between them.”

“Everybody said she was in love with Lennart,” said Katrine. “Why would she help his killer?”

“Maybe he killed Emily as well,” said Tobias.
 

“She sends emails to her mother. She has a Facebook page,” said Katrine.

“So maybe Aksel is sending the emails,” said Eddy. “To make everyone think she’s alive.”

“All the more reason to find him,” said Tobias. “We might need those mediums after all.”
 

He went back to his desk and sat for a while thinking. Was it possible Aksel had killed Emily? That he knew Emily well enough to have not only her email address but her mother’s as well? That he sent emails so her mother wouldn’t report her missing? It was probably worthwhile searching the bog again for traces of a second body. Another cost to the enquiry, but Larsen would agree it was necessary. His phone rang. It was Nicholas Hove.

“I’ve looked at the photo you biked to my office,” he said. “I think Aksel is the guy on the far left, beside Emily Rasmussen. It’s so long ago, I can’t be certain. I’ve contacted a couple of activists I know. One of them told me he sees Aksel at demos from time to time. He doesn’t know where he lives.”

“What’s Aksel’s surname? Is it Schmidt?”

“He’s not sure about that either. But he says Aksel is involved with some protest at the city hall next month. There’s a European conference on the environment on the fifth of June. I’m speaking at it. My activist friend said something is happening. He doesn’t know exactly what, but it’s about climate change and it’s intended to coincide with the conference.” He paused. His tone changed. “I always had a soft spot for Emily. Let me know how she is when you find her.”
 

If
we find her, thought Tobias.
 

“Thanks,” he said. “I will.”

“And good luck with Aksel.” Nicholas Hove rang off.
 

Tobias straightened the phone and tidied a pencil into the mug on his desk. It was a present from Agnes. A white mug with a green slogan: “Root For Trees!” A memory stirred. Agnes talking about trees. On the telephone. Was it on the night they found Bogman? Hadn’t she mentioned someone called Aksel? Tobias reached for the telephone. He hesitated. He was reluctant to involve Agnes in the investigation. He picked up the phone and called her.
 

“Hi, Dad, I saw you on television last night, appealing for information about that missing girl. You looked great. Have you found her?”

“Not yet,” said Tobias. “Where are you?”

“In college,” said Agnes. “I’m between classes.”
 

“So when are you back hugging trees?”

Agnes sighed. “I have an essay to write. I won’t get up there this weekend.”
 

“Where exactly is ‘up there’?”

“About five kilometres inland from the coast, near Frostrup.”
 

“How many of you are at the camp?”

“It varies,” said Agnes. “Sometimes as many as fifty and sometimes as few as five.” Her voice changed. Why the sudden interest, Dad? Are you trying to find out something for your colleagues? I’ve had the lecture. We’re not breaking any laws.”
 

Tobias took a deep breath. “This has nothing to do with trees, Agnes. It’s about the missing girl. She’s hardly a girl,” he added. “She must be at least thirty by now. She was involved in a green protest around the time of her disappearance. And she had a friend called Aksel. He might know where she is now. He’d be about the same age. Didn’t you mention someone called Aksel?”