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him. It smelled damned good, whatever Morten was cooking on the stove. It had been a long time since he’d had such an appetite. ‘She’s freezing? Maybe she should stuff a couple of her well-fed lovers into the woodstove.’
    ‘What are you guys talking about?’ said a voice in the doorway. Behind Jesper, the cacophony from upstairs was again blasting from his room, making the walls in the hallway vibrate.
    It was a miracle they could hear each other at all.
    Carl spent three days staring alternately at Google and at the walls in the basement room. He’d made himself familiar ad nauseam with the walk down the hall to the toilet, and realized he felt more rested than ever before. Then he counted off the four hundred and fifty-two paces up to the homicide division on the third floor, which was the domain of his former colleagues. He was going to demand that the workmen finish what they were doing in the basement and hang the door back on its hinges so he would at least have something to slam if he was so inclined. And then he would circumspectly remind them that he hadn’t yet received the promised case files. Not because there was any rush, but he had no intention of losing his job before he’d even started.
    Maybe he’d expected his former colleagues to stare at him with curiosity when he entered the homicide premises. Was he on the verge of a breakdown? Had his face lost all colour after his sojourn in the eternal gloom? He’d expected inquisitive and also scornful looks, but not that everyone would simultaneously slip inside their offices with such a well-orchestrated closing of doors.
    ‘What’s going on here?’ he asked a man he’d never seen before who was unpacking removal boxes in the first office.
    The man held out his hand. ‘Peter Vestervig. I’m from City Station. I’m going to be part of Viggo’s team.’
    ‘Viggo’s team? Viggo Brink?’ Carl asked. A team leader? Viggo? He must have been appointed the day before.
    ‘That’s right. And you are?’ the man asked.
    Carl managed a brief handshake and then glanced around the office without replying. There were two other faces he didn’t recognize. ‘They’re on Viggo’s team too?’
    ‘Not the one over by the window.’
    ‘New furniture, I see.’
    ‘Yes, they just brought it up. Aren’t you Carl Mørck?’
    ‘I used to be,’ he said and then walked the rest of the way over to Marcus Jacobsen’s office.
    The door was ajar, but even a closed door wouldn’t have stopped Carl from barging in. ‘So you’re bringing in more staff, Marcus?’ he said without preamble, interrupting a meeting.
    The homicide chief’s face took on a resigned expression as he glanced at his deputy and one of the office girls. ‘OK, Carl Mørck has emerged from the depths. We’ll continue in half an hour,’ he said, stacking up his papers.
    Carl gave Jacobsen’s deputy a surly smile as the man went out the door; the smile he got in return was equally scathing. Vice-Superintendent Lars Bjørn had always known just how to keep the icy feelings between them warm.
    ‘So, how are things going down there, Carl? Are you getting a handle on how to prioritise the cases?’
    ‘You might say that. At least with regard to the ones I’ve received so far.’ He pointed behind him. ‘What’s happening out there?’
    ‘You might well ask.’ Marcus raised his eyebrows and straightened the Leaning Tower of Pisa, as everyone called the pile of newly received cases on his desk. ‘Due to the overwhelming case load, we’ve had to put together two more investigative teams.’
    ‘To replace mine?’ Carl smiled wryly.
    ‘Yes, plus two others.’
    Carl frowned. ‘Four teams? How the hell are you going to pay for them?’
    ‘A special appropriation. Allocated as a result of the police reform, as you know.’
    ‘I do? Well, I’ll be damned.’
    ‘Was there anything specific you wanted, Carl?’
    ‘Yes, but I think it can wait. I need to look into something first.