Satellite People (19 page)

In short, Patricia had once again been right. Something dramatic had happened in Magdalon Schelderup’s life in the summer of 1968, which provided a credible explanation as to the origins
of his first will. However, any deeper significance in relation to his dramatic death in May 1969 was still unclear to me, to say the least.

My ponderings on the cases from the war were suddenly interrupted by a heavy pounding on the door. A breathless constable came into the room and, obviously impressed, informed me that they had
just received a phone call from the Ministry of Foreign Affairs. The foreign minister, Jonas Lykke, was leaving on a trip to Eastern Europe the following morning, but would take the time to see me
this afternoon if I could go there immediately.

X

The foreign minister, Jonas Lykke, was smaller than he looked on the television, but otherwise more or less as I expected.

The former Resistance fighter and prime minister was what could be described as corpulent with greying hair. But his gaze was still intense, his voice was dynamic and his handshake was firm.
Sitting behind a large desk in his office, Jonas Lykke radiated precisely the calm and dignity that one would expect of a foreign minister.

There were two tall piles of paper in front of him. To my surprise, they both appeared to be about the mandate possibilities in the up-and-coming general election, rather than the day’s
foreign policy issues.

‘I must say that I am not entirely sure how I can be of use with regards to your ongoing murder investigation. But I will of course do everything I can to help you,’ he said after a
couple of moments, in his characteristic dialect.

I took the hint that the foreign minister’s time was limited and promptly launched into a hastily improvised list of questions.

In answer to my first question about the treason trials after the war, the foreign minister apologized that he unfortunately knew nothing about them. He had spent the final years of the war in
Sweden. He denied any knowledge of operations carried out by Resistance groups in Oslo during that time, and he had only heard about the ‘tragedy on Liberation Day’ after the event.
From what he had read, there was something very odd about the circumstances surrounding Ole Kristian Wiig’s death. But legally the case appeared to be cut and dried and had quickly been
overshadowed by the trials against leading Nazis.

Lykke sat lost in thought fora few moments after he had mentioned this, but then quickly returned to the present. He concluded in a grave voice that he unfortunately could not be of much help to
me with regard to the war either. He had met both Magdalon Schelderup and Petter Johannes Wendelboe several times later, but did not know either of them particularly well and had never discussed
with them what went on in the war. At the time, Schelderup had been more interested in the Cold War and contingency plans for a possible Soviet invasion. Even after fifty, he seemed to be a man who
preferred to guard against possible future scenarios rather than dwell on the past.

Jonas Lykke became obviously more animated and informative when the subject turned to the Conservative parliamentary group after the war. In fact, I thought to myself that he was remarkably
informal given that he was still a senior politician. He remarked with a quiet, dry chuckle that Magdalon Schelderup had come across as ‘unusually intelligent, unusually clear-sighted,
unusually conservative and unusually cynical, even for a Conservative member of parliament for Akershus or Oslo!’

I ventured to ask why, then, Schelderup’s career in national politics had been so short-lived. Lykke answered with another gentle smile that that problem had in fact been Magdalon
Schelderup’s clear-sightedness. He quite obviously preferred to be in a position of power and was realistic enough to admit that it would be many years before the Conservatives would ever
form a government. When he stood down in 1953 he was fifty-four years old and had decided to concentrate on his extremely successful business empire.

It had become standard practice that the war was not mentioned unnecessarily when Magdalon Schelderup was present. But the court case from 1945 had been mentioned now and again when he was not
there. Lykke added with a dry laugh that the Conservatives had a habit of dealing with sensitive issues in this way. However, he did not remember the issue from the war being raised in connection
with the question of Schelderup’s renomination in 1953. Lykke had certainly never mentioned it himself at that time.

Continuing in this jolly and frank vein, the foreign minister added that he had not been sorry when Schelderup decided not to stand again in the general election.

‘We needed a right-wing coalition, and he was not someone who promoted that. He was far too conservative for those on the left, and too urban for members of the Centre Party. And the
Christian Democrats strongly disapproved his divorces.’

I understood what he was saying and had to reluctantly concur with Jonas Lyke that there was not much of relevance to the murder inquiry here either. As a politician, Magdalon Schelderup had
been respected, but not liked, not even within his own party. He appeared to have left politics of his own volition, and if it was the case that he was pushed, it certainly seemed to have nothing
to do with events during the war. I did not think that Jonas Lykke knew anything more of importance about the war, and was fairly sure that if he did, I would not be able to wheedle it from
him.

So I thanked the foreign minister cordially for his time. He shook my hand and jokingly wished me luck with ‘both the spring murder investigation and the autumn election’.

The final seat in Oslo was evidently very uncertain and could be decisive, according to the sheet on the top of the left-hand pile that I glanced at as I left the room. Jonas Lykke had already
turned his attention back to the papers by the time I closed the door behind me.

XI

The yellowing papers from the war were waiting on my desk when I got back to the office.

According to these papers, the NS member whose house Magdalon Schelderup and Ole Kristian Wiig had visited on Liberation Day 1945 was called Jens Rune Meier.

I quickly found the case in the archive for unsolved murders under 1942, and could thus confirm that Wendelboe had thus far proved to be reliable. Jens Rune Meier had indeed been shot when out
skiing at the start of Easter 1942. The operation had obviously been well planned. The police found the tracks of the perpetrators, who had clearly been familiar with his route and lain in wait
behind some undergrowth on a more deserted stretch. The ski tracks led back to the car park, and even though considerable resources were given to the case, not enough evidence was found to pursue
it.

At the time of his death, Jens Rune Meier was unmarried. He was a thirty-two-year-old lawyer who lived in Kolsås; a Norwegian citizen from a good middle-class family, but his grandfather
had been from Germany, so he had a German surname. It would appear that the occupying forces and the NS had had high hopes for him and, if rumour was to be believed, he was being touted as a
possible cabinet minister in Quisling’s government.

Jens Rune Meier glared at me from a black-and-white passport photograph dated autumn 1941, and from a report about the attack in the NS newspaper,
Fritt Folk
. I sat there for a couple
of minutes looking him in the eye without finding the answer as to whether he had been the Dark Prince or not. Following liberation in 1945, no guns were found that in any way resembled the missing
9×19mm calibre Walther pistol. I sat there a little longer musing on where it might be today, as I wrote the short daily report for my boss. The report was not the best I had written, in
terms either of language or content. My thoughts were preoccupied with what Patricia might be able to deduce from the new information about the case. In the end, I put the report to one side and
drove over to see her a quarter of an hour earlier than agreed.

XII

Patricia listened while we ate the starter and I told her in detail about how Leonard Schelderup was found and the circumstances surrounding his death. She uttered a
disapproving ‘hmmh’ several times. And this was clearly not with reference to the delicious vegetable soup.

But she really only got into her stride shortly after the main course had been put on the table and I finally told her about my visit to Petter Johannes Wendelboe. She then became so intensely
interested that it took several minutes before she even touched the tenderloin on her plate. I had both expected and hoped that she would show greater interest in Magdalena Schelderup and her
wartime fiancé. What instead fascinated Patricia was the chronology of her fiancé’s death and other events that took place within the group.

‘Hans Petter Nilsen was killed on 12 May and Bjørn Varden on 5 September 1941. Magdalon Schelderup joined the Resistance group in the summer of 1941, and the NS member, Jens Rune
Meier, was executed at Easter 1942, following Schelderup’s suggestion just before Christmas 1941 . . . The pattern is so striking that I do not for a moment believe that it is
coincidence.’

I nodded and racked my brains to discover what this striking pattern might be.

‘Did you ask Wendelboe if he could remember what date Magdalon Schelderup joined the group? Because that is one of the two key questions that I need to have answered before I can move
on.’

I shook my head apologetically. Patricia’s reaction was as instantaneous as it was surprising. She lifted her telephone from the table and held the receiver out to me.

‘Then ring him and ask now!’

I looked at Patricia, astonished, and saw that she was deadly earnest and impatient.

‘Please call Petter Johannes Wendelboe at once! This is extremely important, and will possibly determine whether my theory is correct or not. And if my theory is right, we will have taken
a great leap forward.’

I was not entirely sure about calling the Wendelboes at this time in the evening, so tried to bide my time.

‘And what date would Schelderup have to have joined for your theory to be confirmed?’

Patricia did not bat an eyelid and replied immediately.

‘If I was going to give a date for when he joined the Resistance movement, I would say 23, 24 or 25 June 1941. But any time within a fortnight after would also fit. If, on the other hand,
Wendelboe says that Magdalon Schelderup joined earlier, then my otherwise alluring theory falls apart.’

I understood nothing. Not a jot. Either about what kind of theory one might build around the chronology of these events, or where the dates 23, 24 or 25 June had sprung from. I sent Patricia a
pleading look, but she continued to stare at me without touching her food. As I then continued to prevaricate, Patricia did the most extraordinary thing. She dialled the number from memory and
quickly handed me the receiver. I had barely had time to put it to my ear when I heard an authoritative male voice say: ‘You have called the Wendelboes, can I help you?’ Patricia leant
forward across the table to hear what he was saying.

I stammered an apology for disturbing him again, but assured him that I only had one short, straightforward question about the Second World War, which was of some importance, and that was if he
could remember around what date Magdalon Schelderup had contacted him in 1941 to offer his services.

‘The twenty-fourth of June.’

The date rang out in my ear. I had to put my other hand up to the receiver in order not to drop it in surprise. And above the telephone I saw Patricia sitting waving her hands triumphantly above
her head in silence, like a footballer who has just scored a goal.

‘And you are absolutely certain of that?’

I could hear the sceptical edge in my own voice, but there was no doubt whatsoever in his.

‘Absolutely certain. I understand if you find that hard to believe. But 24 June was my brother-in-law Ole Kristian’s birthday, and I was on my way home from his place when I was
stopped by Magdalon. And given what happened later, we have always felt that it was a bizarre coincidence.’

I had to agree with him there. I thanked him and put down the receiver. Patricia had now began to eat her meat with gusto, an unusually smug smile on her lips.

‘The cook really has found a perfect tenderloin this time. Sheer luck, of course,’ she commented, after a few mouthfuls.

I gave her a deeply exasperated and admiring look.

‘You would have been burnt as a witch in the Middle Ages for less, Patricia. How on earth did you manage that? And why on earth was 24 June 1941 significant, except for Ole Kristian
Wiig’s birthday?’

Patricia took pleasure in slowly swallowing a mouthful of meat before answering. Then she took the book about battles of the First and Second World War from the pile and put it down on the table
between us.

‘Fortunately we are not talking about the Middle Ages, but about the Second World War. Nothing special happened on the 23, 24 or 25 June 1941 but, as you know, that made what happened on
22 June all the more dramatic. Keyword: Operation Barbarossa.’

I inwardly cursed my lack of interest in history at school and waved her impatiently on.

‘Germany invaded the Soviet Union, slowcoach, only the greatest military offensive in the history of the world. Three million soldiers marched in a line that was nearly 1800 miles long.
And still it caught Stalin and his generals by surprise. The German military machine appeared to be indomitable. Some intelligent and far-sighted people in different parts of the world realized
quickly what was about to happen – that Germany was going to bite off more than it could chew, that a great backlash would start in this confrontation with the Soviet Union’s vast
population and hard winters. And one of them was Magdalon Schelderup of Gulleråsen in Norway, who, when the opportunity arose a couple of days later, joined the side that he now thought would
win the war.’

Patricia ate a few mouthfuls more, licked her lips and looked very pleased with herself when she continued.

‘The balance of resources in the war definitely tipped in favour of the Allies when the USA was forced to join the war following the Japanese strike on Pearl Harbor on 7 December 1941.
Once again, a technical military success that was also a huge mistake on the part of the Axis powers. A few days later, Schelderup contacts Wendelboe again, this time to suggest that he and the
others should liquidate the NS member who they suspect is the Dark Prince. The chronology of the war and Schelderup’s movements in Oslo is remarkable.’