The Quiet Girl by Peter Hoeg

Author:Peter Hoeg
Language: eng
Format: mobi, epub
Published: 2011-06-13T02:30:52+00:00

14

The open area in front of the police station was blocked off all the way down to the Aria administration building. A gate had been set up facing Bernstorff Street; one of the monks put an ID card in the front window, and the gate went up.

They passed military vehicles, civil-defense trailer trucks, ambulances. The monks parked on the sidewalk near the driving-test examiners' red barracks. They took Kasper under his arms and half led, half carried him. Across the street, through a door that faced the harbor, into an elevator.

The elevator opened to a narrow corridor; the first thing he heard was music. It was faint, came from a distance away, yet was very clear. It was a Bach cantata, BWV 106, sung by the Copenhagen Police Women's Chorus. He remembered the recording; on that CD the soloist was the patroness of the chorus, Police Chief Hanne Bech Hansen. Kasper recognized her lovely soprano voice, which had almost no vibrato.

An open door led into a rectangular room with a high ceiling, like a school gymnasium. Along the back wall were desks where four officers were sorting papers. At the other end of the room, in front of shelves filled with binders, two female officers sat at what appeared to be a switchboard.

The room had six large windows facing the harbor. Next to one of them sat a heavy, motionless old man who looked as if he had been dressed by the Men's Fashion Council and then lowered into the chair by a crane. Moerk stood by another window; beside him was a little boom box, which was the source of the music.

Moerk turned and looked at Kasper. At the bloody bandages.

He took some newspapers from a table and placed them on the chair beside him. Kasper sat down on the newspapers.

"Weidebühl," said Moerk, nodding toward the older man. "He represents the Church Ministry. And is our contact with the Institute."

The CD case lay on the boom box; pictured on the front was the golden lyre that all police bands carry. Blood dripped onto the plastic case. Moerk moved it and turned off the music.

"We need Kejsa up here," he said. "And Cokes. Coffee."

"A brandy," said Kasper.

The monks disappeared. Moerk looked out again across the barricaded area.

"We've got Konon surrounded," he said. "Two hundred men from the anti-terror unit. Four motorboats. Navy combat swimmers. Two military helicopters in case they should try to fly out the children. Thirty men to check doorbells at the administrators' home addresses and get statements from witnesses. They went in ten minutes ago."

Kasper tried to listen to Moerk, but couldn't; his hearing was unstable; it seemed to be falling out.

"Total Defense Concept," said Moerk. "That's the official name. It's a nice concept, very Danish. It covers unlimited collaboration. When a catastrophe occurs, like this here, everyone works together. The police, emergency services, civil defense, firefighters. The military. In Denmark we're afraid to declare any situation an exception. The politicians think they can legislate themselves out of everything, including a coup d'etat.

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