Sohlberg and the Missing Schoolboy: an Inspector Sohlberg mystery (Inspector Sohlberg Mysteries) (23 page)

“Not that I mind Chief Inspector but . . . that’s a lot of stuff for me to look into. . . .”

“Just look for frequently called phone numbers . . . or e-mail addresses that show up a lot. I’m sure that KRIPOS has some software to do that in minutes. If they don’t then just go on the Internet. I’m sure you’ll find some company somewhere selling that software.”

“Of course. I’ll call or go to a company called Alta Soft . . . I think they’re still up on Adolph Tidemandsgt in Lillestrøm . . . about twenty minutes northeast of downtown Oslo. They have very good stuff.”

“I wouldn’t be surprised if Steen and Strøm sells software next to linens and housewares. Everything is available nowadays on the Internet . . . especially software.”

“I’ll look at altasoft’s website and see what they carry. Then I’ll call them to find out if their software can help us.”

“Good,” said Sohlberg. He started to frown. “There’s something else.”

“What?”

“I’m really bothered by Karl’s mother . . . so this Maya Engen woman gave birth to two sons and then she abandons the two boys to her two husbands? . . . Maybe she wanted back what she had so carelessly given away.”

“Nilsen never considered that angle Chief Inspector. Everyone saw her more as a pitiful victim.”

“Could be she’s a pitiful victim . . . as you call her. It could also be that she arranged for Karl’s kidnaping.”

“Yes . . . could be.”

“Alright then . . . after you get the phone and computer records I want you to give me a list of every single one of the friends
and
family of Karl’s mother . . . of Karl’s father . . . and of Karl’s stepmother . . . who had frequent phone or computer contact with these three people.”

“The three people closest to Karl Haugen . . . I always thought they were our best suspects.”

“Exactly Constable Wangelin.”

“I think we’re finally getting closer to solving this.”

“Actually we’ll be much closer after the Smiley Face Killer tells us
who
is his Number One suspect.”

~ ~ ~

“Why did they take me? . . . Where’s my Daddy?”

No answer. He looked but could not see his father at all.

“Mom!”

He was hurt and bewildered beyond measure as to why his mother and father had not come for him. Maybe just maybe he was going to have to live without his parents. He remembered the woman who had recently come to visit him. She said:

“Sometimes we have to do things on our own. Like when we go to school alone without Mommy and Daddy. That’s kind of what you’re doing here right now. . . .”

No. He would keep waiting for his mother and father. Surely they would come for him.

Chapter 9/Ni

HALDEN PRISON, AFTERNOON OF 1 YEAR AND

24 DAYS AFTER THE DAY, FRIDAY, JUNE 4

“I think we’re almost at the exit,” said Constable Wangelin excitedly. “Is that it?”

“Yes.”

“I can’t believe we’re about to visit the Smiley Face Killer . . . Norway’s forgotten serial killer.”

Sohlberg checked his map one more time and read aloud the instructions on how to get to the maximum security prison. A few minutes later they got off the E-6 at the exit for Highway 21 east to Halden. Less than a mile later they turned left and went north until they reached Road 104 and headed east on Torpumveienen.

“Are we on the right road?”

“This is it,” said Sohlberg who felt a stressful tension he had not felt in a long time.

They turned left to the ironically named Justice Road.

Despite his growing tension Sohlberg looked forward to visiting Halden Fengsel. He wanted confirmation that his investigation was on the right track.

Who better than a serial killer and a child predator to let Sohlberg know if he had narrowed down the list of suspects to the most likely culprit?

Sohlberg desperately wanted to solve the Karl Haugen case and not make any mistakes. His investigation had to be flawless or close to flawless or he would probably never be able to leave Norway and get back to Interpol. But the main motivation in solving the Karl Haugen case was the little boy himself. Innocent. Defenseless. Taken and gone. Whoever took Karl Haugen had so far made no mistakes or at least no discernable mistakes. That meant that Sohlberg could make no mistakes.

He thought aloud and almost started shouting as a result of his excitement over the true nature of the case:

“You know Constable Wangelin . . . everything . . . and I mean
everything
. . . that took place on that Friday was essential . . . critical . . . to the kidnaping of Karl Haugen. It was all so
intricate
. . . like a Swiss watch filled with dozens of tiny springs and screws and sprockets that all have to work together in perfect harmony and timing.

“Karl Haugen would
never
have vanished so easily if any one single event had gone wrong. It’s hard to believe . . . but we’re dealing with a master criminal in a boring suburb of Oslo . . . a criminal genius who put as much work and thought into the kidnaping of Karl Haugen as a Swiss watchmaker does into the best time mechanism.”

“Yes . . . that’s the word for the abduction . . . intricate.”

“Now think about this . . . a Swiss watch is intricate . . . but it’s intricate for only
one
single solitary purpose . . . to accurately tell time . . . the same goes for this kidnaping . . . it was . . . it
is
so intricate . . . executed with the greatest care and precision . . . and planned months or maybe even years in advance . . . and yet despite its intricacy the entire kidnaping was only for one purpose. . . .”

“To take Karl Haugen.”

Sohlberg paused for a long time before he spoke. “That’s the obvious purpose . . . but could the kidnaping be for some other hidden purpose that we can’t see or fathom or understand?”

“Oh . . . I see what you mean.”

“If we find out what is the
sole
purpose of all of the events on that June fourth then we will find out who is the kidnaper and what was the kidnaper’s motivation.”

“I agree . . .
that
is the key to solving the case Chief Inspector.”

“The purpose of the abduction . . . the goal of the kidnaping . . . reveals the who and the why since we already know the how.”

Four miles northeast of the town of Halden a clearing in the forest revealed the prison. It left Sohlberg speechless.

The taupe-colored prison walls rose out of the forest. A psychologist had picked the calming and warm gray-brown tint of the concrete walls. Interior decorators had picked elegant modern art to fill all of the walls and all of hallways of the prison. The outer prison walls were covered with large murals of inmates wearing prison stripes in humorous situations such as playing volleyball. Ten years and $ 260 million had gone into building Norway’s super-modern and second largest prison. In Sohlberg’s eyes the maximum security facility for 252 inmates looked more like a modern spa in Los Angeles or Palm Springs.

“I’m sorry Constable Wangelin . . . but this is rather luxurious for people who don’t deserve luxury accommodations as punishment for rape or murder. I can’t believe the government spent ten million dollars per prisoner to build this luxury retreat.”

“Well . . . you know the Norwegian way,” she said alluding to the low 20% re-offending rate of Norwegian prisoners in comparison to the 50% to 60% rate in Britain and the USA. “Don’t forget Chief Inspector . . . we have less than five thousand men and women in Norway’s prisons . . . that’s less than seventy convicts per one hundred thousand people versus the American rate that’s one thousand percent greater.”

“True . . . and yet. . . . You can murder or rape in Norway as many times as you want and you nevertheless get a maximum sentence of twenty-one years. Think about it . . . you can kill fifty or sixty or more people and yet you only get twenty-one years in Norway.”

“Well that’s changed Chief Inspector . . . since a few years ago . . . when was it? Two thousand eight? . . . Since then criminals can get charged with the new law of crimes against humanity.”

“What’s the penalty?”

“A maximum penalty of thirty years. And there’s an anti-terrorism law that allows for the indefinite prolongation of sentences . . . in blocks of five years at a time . . . each renewed by a judge if the convict is deemed dangerous to public security.”

“How many times has that law been applied? . . . How about zero times? How about never?”

Wangelin nodded slowly in reluctant agreement.

Sohlberg waved at the 75-acre facility where inmates enjoy a music studio and a rock climbing wall and hobby rooms and recreational areas and jogging trails and a superb library and two-bedroom cabins where inmate families can stay during overnight visits. “I wish you could see some of those miserable French or Russian prisons . . . or the truly horrible ones in Peru or Brazil.”

Constable Wangelin nodded. “I know about those hellholes . . . but we have a low enough crime rate and more than enough oil money to pay for this.”

“I . . . I don’t know . . . is this fair? Is this justice? . . . I mean this prison here is a country club for millionaires compared to San Quentin in California or other American horrors like SuperMax in Colorado.”

“I’ve heard they’re absolutely awful.”

“Of course they’re all topped off by the ultimate nightmare of Louisiana’s Angola State Penitentiary.”

“Bad?”

“I went to pick up a prisoner for extradition . . . hope to never be back there again . . . ever.”

“But don’t you think Chief Inspector that we are a little more civilized than the Americans?”

Sohlberg said nothing. But his hand gesture left no doubt as to his contempt for any prison that provided a soft life for a felony convict.

The inspector and constable checked in and wended their way through security checkpoints. A deputy warden joined them as an escort. He showed them how the prisoners’ cells were arranged in units of 10 to 12 rooms “just like college dorms”.

“I don’t think so,” said Sohlberg. “The cells in this prison are far better than most college dorms.”

“Why do you say that?” said the clueless deputy warden.

“Because each cell has a private bathroom and a flat-screen TV and a mini-fridge and lovely views of the forest. The windows don't even have bars on them . . . and each group of cells shares a living room and kitchen. That’s far better than any college dorm.”

“That is true Chief Inspector,” said the deputy warden with pride.

Sohlberg shrugged. Over and over he kept repeating: “What the heck is this place . . . a luxury hotel?” Sohlberg pointed to the stainless-steel counter-tops and wraparound sofas and birch-colored coffee tables that seemed straight out of an Ikea catalogue. “What the heck is this place . . . a luxury hotel for felons?”

The oblivious deputy warden continued his lecture about the
strong and positive
relationship between the prison staff and the inmates and how the guards do not carry weapons. The man pointed out how the prison was not depressing to the inmates thanks to more than $ 1,000,000 worth of original artwork that graced every location that inmate eyes might happen to fall upon.