Tor Olsen, senior curator at the Natural History Museum, was a man in his fifties who looked a little like Albert Einstein, with a mess of white hair standing up on all sides.
‘Finally, there you are,’ Tor Olsen said, showing Mia Krüger into his office. ‘About time, I must say. Coffee, tea, or do we get straight down to business?’
It was clear that the curator took this very seriously. The break-in at the museum. The missing owls. A dozen patrol cars with flashing blue lights and screaming sirens ought to have turned up ages ago. Mia was bemused but made sure to hide it. She was used to it now. It was not an uncommon reaction when the public first encountered crime. They expected the police to respond immediately. Crack the case, like they did on TV. It was sweet, really, this naivety, but, sadly, very far from the truth. About 130,000 break-ins were reported in Norway last year. Of those, 120,000 had been shelved. Shameful, really. And Mia doubted that already scarce police resources would be made available to solve the theft of some stuffed owls. Thirty-three murders. Twenty-three solved. No cases abandoned. She much preferred this statistic. But break-ins? No, nothing to boast about there. Not her problem, either. She had enough on her plate as it was.
‘Happy to get straight down to it.’ Mia nodded.
‘Is it just you?’ the absent-minded man said, looking around.
‘Excuse me?’
‘You’re here on your own? Where are the others?’
Mia concealed another smile.
‘You do realize that we have a unique collection here, don’t you? More than two million species from across the world. Mammals, birds, fish, insects, reptiles, molluscs, intestinal worms?’
‘Intestinal worms?’
Olsen looked at her over his glasses. ‘Invertebrates? Single-celled and multicellular organisms?’
The senior curator shook his head and heaved a sigh. He had already decided that the police had not entrusted an investigation of this magnitude to the right person.
‘But only the owls were stolen?’ Mia said.
‘Only?’ Olsen said, staring at her. ‘Every type of Norwegian owl gathered in one place may not seem like a lot to you – after all, we only have ten species – but even so, have you any idea how much work I’ve invested in this?’
‘I understand.’ Mia nodded gravely. ‘Ten species in Norway? Owls?’
‘There is the European pygmy owl, the boreal owl, the short-eared owl, the northern hawk-owl, two types of Eurasian owls, the tawny owl, the great grey owl, the Ural owl, the snowy owl – and the barn owl makes eleven; we have had several sightings of it, but it doesn’t nest in Norway.’
‘Good heavens. And where were they exhibited?’
‘In our permanent collection. “Native and Non-native Animals”. We rarely make changes to it but, one day, I had this idea. Owls. Norwegian owls. An exciting bird. A mysterious bird. Young people would appreciate it. Increase our visitor numbers? Do you follow?’
Mia struggled to keep a straight face. She very much doubted that the youth of today would be tempted to look up from their screens to see a unique collection of Norwegian owls displayed at the Natural History Museum.
‘I do. Good idea. Great thought.’
‘Thank you.’ Olsen smiled. ‘I imagine you would like to inspect the crime scene? And perhaps you would also like to see our collection now that you’re here, anyway?’
‘Sure,’ said Mia, following him out of the office.
‘We call the first display “Under the Sea”,’ Olsen said when they reached the start of the exhibition. ‘As you can see, we have sea scorpions, snake pipefish, mackerel, herring, school sharks …’
Mia began to suspect that this was a complete waste of time. She was still exhausted after visiting Sebastian Larsen, and she had yet to process the information the social anthropologist had given her. Sects. Orders. Senators and high priests. A kind of darkness she could not comprehend. Here in Norway? She found it hard to believe.
‘We call the second display “Mountain Birds”,’ Olsen continued, but Mia was barely listening now. ‘As you can see, there is the European shag, the common murre, the razor-billed auk …’
She could not shake off the feeling that there was a golden nugget somewhere among all the things that Larsen had told her.
OTO. Thelemite teaching. Do what thou wilt shall be the law. Nonsense, most likely. A bunch of harmless idiots, at best. But combined with Camilla in the pentagram of candles and the horrific video they had discovered?
‘And the fifth display …’ Olsen went on, but Mia had reached her limit. It was a waste of time.
‘And where is the bird display?’ she said.
‘Oh, that’s empty now,’ the curator said. ‘We exhibit reindeer in its place. Would you like to—’
‘No, I think I’ll stop here.’ Mia smiled.
Tor Olsen looked surprised.
‘I mean, if there’s nothing to see, then I’d better leave.’
‘So soon?’
‘I’ve learned a lot. You’ve been a great help.’
‘Very well, then,’ the curator said.
On her way out, Mia glanced up and spotted a camera in a corner. ‘You film all the visitors?’
‘Yes, but only during opening hours, sadly.’
‘And the break-in happened at night?’
‘Yes, I told you when I reported it. Haven’t you read the report? I turned up for work, like I always do, at a quarter past seven, and when I—’
‘Of course. I’m just double-checking,’ Mia said. ‘So no pictures?’
‘No, sadly not,’ the curator said, and let her out of the exhibition.
‘Do you get many visitors?’
‘I wouldn’t say many – mainly school groups – most people come for the Botanical Gardens. That’s unique, and sometimes they pop in here as well.’
‘School groups, did you say?’ Mia said, interested now. ‘Do you have a list of such visits?’
‘Yes, we do,’ Olsen nodded. ‘But Ruth keeps it.’
The Botanical Gardens. Hurumlandet Nurseries. Plants. Flowers. It was a shot in the dark, but it was worth a try.
‘And Ruth isn’t here now?’
‘No, Ruth has gone to Gran Canaria. She has rheumatism and gets the trips paid for by the state. The warm weather is good for her joints, you know.’
‘Please would you ask Ruth to send me a list of schools that visited the museum in the time leading up to the break-in? When she comes back?’
Mia found her card in her inside pocket, and gave it to him.
‘She’ll be back on Tuesday. And yes, of course I will,’ the senior curator said, looking at her card.
When he had read it, his eyes widened. ‘Homicide unit? But …?’
‘I’ll expect to hear from you or Ruth, OK?’ She smiled.
The man with the white hair nodded cautiously, now seeing her in a completely different light. Mia felt his eyes follow her all the way down the stairs and out of the gate.
What a waste of time.
She should have spent the day doing something more productive. She looked at her phone. Almost three o’clock. She had managed a few hours’ kip after the strange conversation in Munch’s office. She had left feeling really pissed off but was starting to see that he might have a point. She got into the car as her phone started ringing.
‘Yes, Mia here?’
‘It’s Holger.’
She could hear it in his voice. That something had happened.
‘Any news?’
‘Most certainly,’ Munch said hastily. ‘Kim and Curry had a breakthrough at the Nurseries. Paulus Monsen and one of the girls out there, Benedikte Riis.’
‘What about them?’
Munch disappeared for a moment. Mia could hear that something was going on in the background.
‘They’re bringing them down to Grønland to be interviewed. We’ll take it from there.’
‘Grønland?’
‘Yes.’
‘I’m on my way,’ Mia said quickly, and stuck the key in the ignition.