The Serbian Dane Read Online Free PDF Page A

terminology. Instead of checking out an apartment to see whether it would make a good safe house, they said that they were looking the area over. They would want to boss around the representatives from PEN as well as any other writers or reporters involved in the visit, and that would lead to arguments. But Lise had to admit, albeit reluctantly, that they had thewhip hand here. It was hard to argue with the fact that whatever they said could mean the difference between life and death, it was just that she didn’t like the way they said it.
    ‘Have you spoken with PET?’ she said.
    ‘It’s pronounced P-E-T,’ Tagesen said.
    ‘Well, have you?’
    ‘Yes. They want us to keep the whole thing under our hats until she gives her first press conference. Then we drop the bombshell…’
    ‘Have you agreed to that?’
    ‘I think it’s fair enough. We still get an exclusive.’
    ‘Okay.’
    ‘I’ve made an appointment for you this afternoon with the special branch guy who’ll be in charge of the visit. His name’s Per Toftlund. A good man, by all accounts. About your age. Have a word with him. Work something out! It’s your story.’
    ‘Yes, sir,’ she said with mock deference.
    ‘I’ve also informed Svendsen at the prime minister’s office, otherwise this is just between you and me, right, Lise?’
    ‘Absolutely.’
    ‘Good…oh, and say hello to Ole for me, will you?’
    ‘Will do,’ she said, but she knew that Tagesen had already moved on to the next matter on his mind. There would be no point in trying to tell him how things were with her and Ole. Tagesen wasn’t really all that interested anyway. He was interested in ideas and in the paper, not people. That was maybe a bit harsh, she told herself. But his eyes tended to glaze over if you got too personal. And yet she supposed in a sort of a way they were friends. But now Tagesen had put her onto a story. He would expect her to run with it and only to come to him if she had problems. He trusted her. That was the kind of boss she liked, while others wanted to be nursed through the whole process of producing a story. She preferred to do things herself.

Chapter 3
    D etective Inspector Per Toftlund had a hangover. The back of his head was the worst. That and his throat, which was as scratched as an old 78. Everything was a bit blurred, and he felt as though two steely fingers were boring into the nape of his neck. He didn’t really have anything against hangovers. It seemed a fair price to pay for abusing one’s body. He did not, however, like having a hangover when he had to go to work. He would never have agreed to going on a stag night had he known he would be getting a call from Vuldom the following morning. Even if Jens was the last of the gang to get married. Apart from himself of course. So they’d really made a night of it, knocking them back as only a bunch of former frogmen know how. Soon they’d all be settled down with kids and mortgages, and he’d be the funny old bachelor at their get-togethers. There was no point in bemoaning the fact. It was his own choice, and the domesticating of his mates had been a gradual process. He had grown used to the fact that he wasn’t as young as he used to be. Maybe someday he too would start hankering after a wife and kids and a cosy little nest. But by then it would probably too late.
    He drank a pint of cola and forced himself to do twenty-five press-ups before a scalding hot, then ice-cold, shower. He shaved. It made his head ache, and the whine of the shaver grated on his ear. He dropped two soluble painkillers into a glass of water. Then he ate a bowl of cornflakes with lots of milk and drank a whole bucketful of black coffee. The radio was playing in the background. The kitchen was small and modern. It contained a table with room for two, a dishwasher, a microwave and an array of gleaming copper pots and pans suspended on metal hooks above the kitchen bench. Everything was spotless. He took care of