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Authors: Jørn Lier Horst
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but I will say this much. There have been a lot of people out there. The dog handlers have tracked in every direction, from cottage to cottage. I think we’re talking about four or five sets of unidentified footprints at least.’
Wisting made a few notes. Although information would appear in a report later in the day, it was nevertheless useful to record it now.
‘The prints frequently end up at one side road or other, so they had a vehicle.’
‘Have you found any cars?’
‘We’ve checked several. There will always be a few cars parked at a group of cottages like that, but they are all accounted for. You’ll receive a detailed list, but we’re talking about cottage owners, fishermen, birdwatchers and farmers, all of whom have seen or heard zilch.’
The operations leader grabbed hold of his cup and leafed through his notes.
‘The most interesting discovery is one we made just before we finished,’ he said. ‘Out at Smørvika we found three empty cartridges.’
Wisting turned to the map hanging on the wall behind him. Nils Hammer placed the cursor on a little inlet east of Ødegårdsbukta. The surrounding area was shaded green, indicating a nature reserve. The cottage where the body had been found was the nearest habitation, at a distance of five to six hundred metres.
‘They’re lying in the middle of the path and can’t have been there long. At one side of the path there’s a patch of woodland, and two of the cartridges are lying on top of newly fallen leaves. We’ve cordoned off the area and have covered them with a tarpaulin, so the technicians can have a look at them when they have time.’
‘That’s good,’ Wisting remarked. ‘Excellent.’
He had not previously heard about the discovery of the cartridges, and his spirits were lifted by the operational leader’s account. Magazine clips, firing pins, strikers and fingers all left traces on gun cartridges. This discovery represented the securing of vital evidence.
He assigned a further fifteen minutes of the meeting to the officers who had worked through the night to relate their thoughts and impressions, before thanking them for their attendance, thus reducing the number of assembled participants. In this type of case, there was always some information he was reluctant to share with more colleagues than absolutely necessary. What he had christened the Telephone Trace on his notepad fell into this category.
He gave a brief account of the mobile phone found by the search dogs.
Nils Hammer placed the mobile, still inside a transparent plastic bag, before them on the table. ‘I’ve managed to charge it now,’ he said, looking at Wisting. ‘There’s a message in the inbox,’ he continued, directing himself now to those who were not familiar with the details. ‘It was received at 16.53 yesterday. 20.30 .’
‘A time of day?’ Christine Thiis suggested.
‘Probably. The message was answered by OK . Later, at 20.43, the owner has sent I am here .’
Christine Thiis gave voice to her thoughts. ‘First a message about a meeting time, and later a confirmation that the person in question had arrived.’
Leaning forward across the table, she lifted the mobile phone, as though it could provide further answers in itself.
‘I interpret it that way as well,’ Hammer affirmed.
‘Is it at the correct time?’ Torunn Borg asked.
‘Approximately. It’s thirty-seven seconds slow.’
‘Who’s the subscriber?’ Christine Thiis asked.
Hammer removed the phone from her hands, as though afraid she might damage it. ‘That’s interesting,’ he replied. ‘It makes this case bigger than it’s been up till now.’ Leaning forward, Wisting eagerly waited for him to continue. ‘There’s a Spanish pay-as-you-go card inside it,’ Hammer explained.
‘Spanish?’
‘Yes, the numbers are Spanish, both the sender and the receiver, and registered to the same person. Carlos Mendoza in Malaga.’
Wisting jotted down SPAIN in large capitals
Wisting made a few notes. Although information would appear in a report later in the day, it was nevertheless useful to record it now.
‘The prints frequently end up at one side road or other, so they had a vehicle.’
‘Have you found any cars?’
‘We’ve checked several. There will always be a few cars parked at a group of cottages like that, but they are all accounted for. You’ll receive a detailed list, but we’re talking about cottage owners, fishermen, birdwatchers and farmers, all of whom have seen or heard zilch.’
The operations leader grabbed hold of his cup and leafed through his notes.
‘The most interesting discovery is one we made just before we finished,’ he said. ‘Out at Smørvika we found three empty cartridges.’
Wisting turned to the map hanging on the wall behind him. Nils Hammer placed the cursor on a little inlet east of Ødegårdsbukta. The surrounding area was shaded green, indicating a nature reserve. The cottage where the body had been found was the nearest habitation, at a distance of five to six hundred metres.
‘They’re lying in the middle of the path and can’t have been there long. At one side of the path there’s a patch of woodland, and two of the cartridges are lying on top of newly fallen leaves. We’ve cordoned off the area and have covered them with a tarpaulin, so the technicians can have a look at them when they have time.’
‘That’s good,’ Wisting remarked. ‘Excellent.’
He had not previously heard about the discovery of the cartridges, and his spirits were lifted by the operational leader’s account. Magazine clips, firing pins, strikers and fingers all left traces on gun cartridges. This discovery represented the securing of vital evidence.
He assigned a further fifteen minutes of the meeting to the officers who had worked through the night to relate their thoughts and impressions, before thanking them for their attendance, thus reducing the number of assembled participants. In this type of case, there was always some information he was reluctant to share with more colleagues than absolutely necessary. What he had christened the Telephone Trace on his notepad fell into this category.
He gave a brief account of the mobile phone found by the search dogs.
Nils Hammer placed the mobile, still inside a transparent plastic bag, before them on the table. ‘I’ve managed to charge it now,’ he said, looking at Wisting. ‘There’s a message in the inbox,’ he continued, directing himself now to those who were not familiar with the details. ‘It was received at 16.53 yesterday. 20.30 .’
‘A time of day?’ Christine Thiis suggested.
‘Probably. The message was answered by OK . Later, at 20.43, the owner has sent I am here .’
Christine Thiis gave voice to her thoughts. ‘First a message about a meeting time, and later a confirmation that the person in question had arrived.’
Leaning forward across the table, she lifted the mobile phone, as though it could provide further answers in itself.
‘I interpret it that way as well,’ Hammer affirmed.
‘Is it at the correct time?’ Torunn Borg asked.
‘Approximately. It’s thirty-seven seconds slow.’
‘Who’s the subscriber?’ Christine Thiis asked.
Hammer removed the phone from her hands, as though afraid she might damage it. ‘That’s interesting,’ he replied. ‘It makes this case bigger than it’s been up till now.’ Leaning forward, Wisting eagerly waited for him to continue. ‘There’s a Spanish pay-as-you-go card inside it,’ Hammer explained.
‘Spanish?’
‘Yes, the numbers are Spanish, both the sender and the receiver, and registered to the same person. Carlos Mendoza in Malaga.’
Wisting jotted down SPAIN in large capitals
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