Sohlberg and the Missing Schoolboy: an Inspector Sohlberg mystery (Inspector Sohlberg Mysteries) (29 page)

“His wife. Agnes Haugen. Actually her laptop computer. You can see her using it right now.”

“Was he spying on anyone else?”

“No. But I also found that he installed in her cell phone a similar but much more advanced software that lets him spy on cell phones including all Nokia models.”

“How?”

“He secretly loads a special software into the phone’s SIM card . . . it’s a tiny piece of hardware . . . the subscriber identification module . . that’s inside every cell phone. The software lets him hear every call and see every text message and image sent or received on the phone.”

“Is this software a Nokia product . . . does it belong to Nokia?”

“No. This is really advanced. He must’ve designed it himself or gotten it from one of his friends or contacts in the industry.”

“Whose phone did he spy on?”

“His wife’s phone. He was snooping on her calls earlier today.”

“Agnes Haugen’s phone?”

“Yes . . . she’s always had our top-of-the-line phones.”

“Why?”

“Because Nokia gives the newest models to senior technology managers like Gunnar Haugen . . . the idea is to get managers and their families to use them a lot . . . and test them for free so that we can find out if the phones have any software bugs or hardware defects.”

Sohlberg’s mind raced as he tried to figure out the twisted relationship between Gunnar and Agnes Haugen. “So . . . Herr Haugen knows who contacts his wife . . . and whom she calls or texts or sends images to?”

“Yes. The software lets him read every phone number that calls in and that she dials out . . . and he can see all of the text messages and images sent and received on the phone.”

“What kind of information did he find on his wife’s computer and cell phone use?”

“Well. . . .”

“Go ahead . . . tell the officer,” said the HR apparatchik.

“Apart from the normal use that one would expect of her contacts with friends and family and various businesses from time to time . . . his wife . . . his wife . . . well . . . she uses her computer and cell phone to communicate with a lot of men in a . . . a sexual or erotic context . . . she arranges meetings with them at their homes or at hotels and other locations. She also sends a lot of nude pictures of herself to men . . . a few of the men also sent her nude pictures of themselves.”

“Can we see whom she wrote to and when?”

“Yes. He stored everything that he’s spied on her for the past two years in his hard drive. We copied his entire hard drive last night as you requested since we own the computer and all content on the computer. This binder has a plastic pouch with a portable hard drive that contains everything in his computer’s hard drive and . . . as requested . . . we’ve included a flash drive that stored everything she’s ever done on every Nokia cell phone she’s used for the past two years.”

“Excellent. Thank you. What are all those pages in the binder?”

“A sample print-out on everything that he’s seen on
her
computer and
her
cell phone during the past four weeks.”

“Let me go over one point . . . you copied everything on his computer . . . including everything that he’s gathered from spying on her in his company computer?”

“Yes.”

Sohlberg mused over the explosive and intrusive nature of the material that Gunnar Haugen had collected on his wife. The chess player and lawyer in Sohlberg needed to make sure that a criminal prosecution or conviction would not be set aside by a court because he had illegally obtained the computer and cell phone information. He said almost casually:

“And . . . technically and legally . . . all that information belongs to Nokia . . . right?”

The techie said nothing. Instead he turned and looked at the Nokia Human Resources manager. The self-important but utterly forgettable manager cleared her throat and said:

“Technically and legally all that information belongs to Nokia. . . . Every Nokia employee signs an agreement that specifies that
everything
on any company computer or phone or digital equipment belongs to Nokia . . . and that includes any and all personal non-company information that the employee may have knowingly and unknowingly placed in the company’s computers or phones . . . whether intentionally or accidentally.”

“Very good.” said Sohlberg. He pointed at the Nokia techie. “Constable Wangelin will you please give him your business card with your e-mail and phone.”

“I will . . . as long as he’s not able to spy on me or the force.”

Sohlberg wasn’t sure if Constable Wangelin was joking or serious. Either way Wangelin made her point because the HR person immediately interjected with:

“Oh . . . of course not . . . we’d never snoop on the police.”

Sohlberg wasn’t so sure. But he had an investigation to complete and an arrest to make. “Ah . . . before I forget . . . what can you tell me about Gunnar Haugen’s computer activity on June fourth of last year? . . . The day his son disappeared.”

“He was logged into one of our servers from eight in the morning to three in the afternoon. But the activity was not continuous . . . only sporadic . . . sometimes as much as half an hour would go by before he was active typing on the keyboard . . . designing and testing software. You will find in the binder a minute-by-minute timeline of his computer activity for that day.”

“Thank you. Now . . . please take us to Gunnar Haugen’s office.”

Constable Wangelin’s phone buzzed while they rode the elevator up to Gunnar Haugen’s offices on the top floor. When they got out on the lobby Wangelin pulled Sohlberg aside and said:

“Chief Inspector . . . they’re on the way to the grandfather’s farm . . . it’s near Hov . . . on the shores of the Randsfjorden.”

“Is the grandfather still alive . . . does he live at the farm?”

“No . . . he died two years ago,” said Wangelin. “But let me pull up a map on my phone and have you take a look at this coincidence.”

“Come now Constable Wangelin . . . there’s no such thing as a coincidence in a major crime case.”

“I know.”

The map on her cell phone screen showed Hov to be a small town located about 80 miles north of Oslo. Like Wangelin he noticed that Hov—a small cluster of homes and businesses next to the E-16 Highway to Bergen—was also about 20 miles southeast of the E-6 Highway to Trondheim.

“Well now,” said Sohlberg. “The grandfather’s farm and barn are near the E-Six Highway that Gunnar Haugen takes to drop off Karl Haugen with his mother.”

Wangelin nodded and smiled.

“Excuse me,” said Sohlberg to the Nokia HR manager. “We need to go back and ask a few more questions of your technical person.”

Twenty minutes later the techie confirmed that during the last three months Gunnar Haugen’s cell phone had received and transmitted several calls from a cell tower near the grandfather’s farm at Hov. Before that 3 month period Gunnar Haugen’s cell phone records showed no activity near the grandfather’s farm.

“Do you want me to check out the wife’s cell phone to see if she’s used her phone in that location?”

“That was my next question. Yes. Please.”

The techie said, “No. I don’t see anything the past three months in that area with her phone.”

Sohlberg frowned. “What about further back in time?”

After tapping at the keyboard a few times the techie said:

“Wait. There’s one hit on that tower thirteen months ago.”

“When exactly?”

“Noon on Saturday . . . May the eighth.”

Sohlberg wondered why Agnes Haugen had been at the farm one month before the boy’s disappearance. Of course her husband or anyone else for that matter could have taken her cell phone out there.

But other than her husband who would’ve done that?

He needed to find out from Gunnar or Agnes Haugen or someone else if one or both of them had been at the grandfather’s farm shortly before the fateful day of Karl’s disappearance.

“One last thing,” said Sohlberg urgently. “I noticed you said Gunnar’s phone showed that several calls were recently made and received in the area around Hov . . . and yet for Agnes Haugen’s phone you said a
hit
. What’s the difference?”

“A hit is when the person has the cell phone turned on but does not answer it.”

Chapter 12/Tolv

INTERROGATION OF GUNNAR HAUGEN,

AFTERNOON OF 1 YEAR AND 25 DAYS

AFTER THE DAY, FRIDAY, JUNE 4

“Gunnar Haugen . . . I’m Constable Wangelin and this is Chief Inspector Sohlberg. We have some questions for you. Can you come to the conference room with us?”

“Am I under arrest?”

Sohlberg found the father’s question astonishing if not incriminating. Sohlberg looked him in the eye and said:

“Should you be?”

A clearly shocked Gunnar Haugen instantly looked away. He paled and stared at the floor and said nothing more.

“Come this way Herr Haugen,” said Sohlberg grimly.

Gunnar Haugen hesitated.

Sohlberg then did what he rarely did. He only used this tactic to impress upon people the seriousness of his investigation and the possibility if not probability of an arrest. Even long-time criminals did not like what Sohlberg was about to do in such a personal and invasive manner. Sohlberg put a forceful grip on Gunnar Haugen’s forearm. The father’s arm jerked involuntarily.

“Let’s go Herr Haugen. Now.”

“Yes,” replied the engineer meekly as his co-workers stared.

Sohlberg was pleased. Everything was going according to plan. It was time to move from keeping the investigation quiet to putting pressure on a group of suspects. He could have questioned Gunnar Haugen quietly and in private after work or had him called down to the Human Resources department. Instead the public scene of Gunnar Haugen being questioned at work by the police guaranteed that the father’s co-workers would immediately call family and friends and that within an hour the media would issue reports about ‘breaking developments’ in the Karl Haugen case. The media frenzy would put intense pressure on Sohlberg’s next best suspects—the mother and the stepmother.

Sohlberg’s newest goal was to force the suspects to point the finger at each other. This tactic never failed with criminals and their accomplices. Of course the exception to the rule was the rare case of family members—or lovers—who had very tight bonds of love and trust.

“This way,” said Constable Wangelin. She pointed to a hallway where the HR manager waited for them.

The HR manager escorted them to a windowless conference room and left. Wangelin took out a tape recorder and dictated the date and time and the identity of the persons in the room.

“Are we going to be here long?”

Sohlberg glared. “Do you have something more important Herr Haugen than answering questions about your missing son?”

“No . . . I was just wondering how long this will take. I have classes after work . . . down the street . . . on Nydalsveien.”