are severed.’
‘Why are all communications severed?’
‘We don’t know. Nobody knows.’
‘How long have you been here?’
‘Three days.’
‘Have you tried to get home by other means?’
His Excellency did not answer.
‘You summoned me here, is that right?’
‘Yes.’
‘Why?’
‘Jensen, we need to take things in order. Firstly, are you willing to take on the mission?’
‘What mission?’
‘Investigating what’s happened. Since we don’t know where we are, we can’t give you any precise orders.’
‘I know where we are.’
‘You misunderstand me. I mean in a legal sense. As you may know, we haven’t recognised the government in this country, for practical economic reasons. For us, it exists only as a geographical concept. We have no extraterritorial rights.’
‘Why are we here, then?’
The minister threw out his arms.
‘Where the hell do you want us to go? I ask you to do me a favour, do the country a favour, and you …’
He left the sentence unfinished. The member of the cabinet who had not yet spoken shook his head and said:
‘Police. What did I tell you?’
The man was fairly young and had an arrogant, supercilious manner. Jensen recalled having heard his name a few times and knew he was one of the government’s rising stars. He had held various ministerial positions and the general expectation was that he would head the government sooner or later. At present he was the Minister for Education. He had previously been head of communications, charged with the sensitive task of directing radio and television censorship.
Jensen regarded him without expression and said:
‘I would just like to point out that I am not on active duty, that we are abroad, and that I have been given no concrete information whatsoever except what I was told at the airline desk.’
‘Jensen, Jensen,’ the senior minister said sorrowfully and imploringly. ‘We know you are an extraordinarily skilful police officer.’
‘Really?’
‘Yes. The way you handled that embarrassing affair four and a half years ago admittedly made things even more embarrassing, but the investigation was technically perfect …’
‘So perfect that it led to the deaths of thirty-two people, you mean?’
‘Don’t rake all that up again now.’
The Minister for Education said frostily:
‘Mr Jensen, I hope you are aware that we can put you back on the beat the minute the situation returns to normal. Wecan also kick you out of the force altogether if we feel like it. You’ve caused trouble before.’
‘Just so,’ said the senior minister. ‘You should think of your family, at the very least.’
‘I haven’t got one,’ said Jensen.
‘All right then, what is it you want? Money?’
‘Facts.’
‘I told you: there aren’t any. We don’t know what’s happened.’
‘Why were the elections postponed?’ Jensen asked.
The senior minister gave a nervous shrug.
‘As I said …’
The education expert jumped up and gave the senior minister a far from appreciative look.
‘The election was postponed because of the serious disturbances that erupted in the closing stages of the campaign,’ he said.
‘Disturbances of what kind?’
‘Riots. Running battles. The police and army were called in.’
‘A revolt?’ Jensen said doubtfully.
‘Not at all. It was more a case of people turning with justified indignation on the nation’s enemies within. Unfortunately they resorted to methods that were far too violent.’
‘What happened then? Once the election had been postponed?’
‘That is something we don’t know with any certainty. Most of the government left the country at that point.’
‘With their families?’
‘Yes, they’re safe.’
‘And the Regent?’
‘In a place of safety.’
‘Why are all the borders closed?’
‘As far as we are aware, the borders aren’t closed at all.’
‘But all communications are cut off?’
‘Yes. Because a very serious epidemic is raging in