Free Mercy by Jussi Adler-Olsen Page B

accused of pushing her overboard, but the charge was later dropped. Is that a lead you might follow up?’
    ‘Maybe. I don’t know where he is now, so I’ll have to track him down first. But there are also other lines of inquiry that spring to mind.’
    ‘I seem to remember the documents saying the brother was committed to an institution in northern Zealand,’ said Jacobsen.
    ‘Oh, right. But he might not be there any more.’ Carl tried to look pensive. Go on back to your office, Mr Homicide Chief, he thought. All these questions, and so far he’d spent only five minutes reading the case report.
    ‘He is in something called Egely. In the town of Frederikssund.’ The voice came from the doorway where Assad stood, leaning on his mop. He looked like someone from another planet, with his ivory smile and his green rubber gloves and a smock that reached to his ankles.
    The homicide chief stared in bewilderment at this exotic being.
    ‘Hafez el-Assad,’ he said, holding out a rubber-gloved hand.
    ‘Marcus Jacobsen,’ said the homicide chief, shaking the man’s hand. Then he turned to give Carl an inquiring look.
    ‘This is our new assistant in the department. Assad has heard me talking about the case,’ said Carl, giving Assad a look that he chose to ignore.
    ‘I see,’ said Jacobsen.
    ‘Yes, my Deputy Police Inspector Mørck has really worked hard so. I have just helped a little here and so there, and where one can.’ Assad smiled broadly. ‘What I do not understand is then why Merete Lynggaard was never found in the water. In Syria, where I come from, there are tons of sharks in the water that eat the dead bodies. But if there are not so many sharks in the sea around Denmark, the bodies should probably be found at some point. The bodies get as big as balloons because of all the rotting from inside that blows them up.’
    The homicide chief tried to smile. ‘Yes, well. The waters around Denmark are deep and wide. It’s not unusual that we fail to find the bodies of people who have drowned. In fact, it’s quite common for someone to fall overboard from a passenger ship in those waters. And often the body is never found.’
    ‘Assad,’ said Carl, looking at his watch. ‘You can go home now. I’ll see you tomorrow.’
    Assad nodded briefly and picked up the bucket from the floor. After some clattering across the hall, he reappeared in the doorway and said goodbye.
    ‘Seems like a real character, that Hafez el-Assad,’ said Jacobsen when the sound of the man’s footsteps had died away.

13
    2007
    After the weekend Carl found a memo from the deputy chief on his computer.
I’ve informed Bak that you’re working on the Merete Lynggaard case. Bak was assigned to the case as part of the Rapid Response Team during the final phase of the investigation, so he’s familiar with the details. Right now he’s slogging away on the cyclist homicide, but he’s prepared to discuss the case with you, preferably as soon as possible.
Lars Bjørn
    Carl snorted. ‘Preferably as soon as possible.’ Who the hell did Bak think he was, that sanctimonious son of a bitch? Self-righteous, self-important, self-promoting. A bureaucrat and yes-man all in one. His wife probably had to fill out a form in triplicate to apply for any erotic fondling below the belt.
    So Bak had investigated a case that had not been solved. How nice. Carl almost felt motivated to try to untie the knots himself.
    He picked up the case file from his desk and asked Assad to make him a cup of coffee. ‘Not as strong as last time, Assad,’ he requested, thinking about the distance to the toilet.
    The Lynggaard case file was undoubtedly the most organized and comprehensive file that Carl had seen yet. It included copies of everything from reports on the health of the brother, Uffe, to transcripts of police interviews, clippings from the tabloids and gossip columns, a couple of videotapes of interviews with Merete Lynggaard, and detailed transcripts of