Missing

medicines to stop your familiar old body from ridding itself of its heart? And the nearest and dearest, what did they feel? What was it like, knowing that your beloved’s heart was still there, inside someone else?
    Patrik’s voice interrupted her musings.
    ‘Found anything?’
    ‘Not really. Have you?’
    Since he didn’t answer, she assumed he hadn’t, and returned to her reading.

    IBID. FOURTH PARAGRAPH, SECTION FOUR :

    Even if biological material can be removed as described in Paragraph three, section two, such procedures are not permitted in cases where someone close to the deceased is strongly opposed to the intervention. Close relations by blood or marriage must be informed about the planned intervention and about their right to forbid it. After such information has been provided, the informed must be allowed a reasonable period of time to consider it .
    She read it all through once more. Then she put the paper down and rose, slowly turning the idea over in her mind. It was right, she could feel it all over.
    ACCURSED ARE THOSE WHO ROB THE INNOCENTS OF THEIR RIGHTS.
    ‘Patrik!’
    ‘Ummm.’
    ‘I’ve got it!’
    She heard him shuffling behind the wooden partition and the next moment he was with her.
    ‘What? How can you be sure?’
    She was sure.
    ‘The killer, it’s someone who is regretting giving permission.’
    Regret was what she had not been given a chance to do once.
    ACCURSED ARE THOSE WHO ROB THE INNOCENTS OF THEIR RIGHTS.
    The right to live. Or to die.
    ‘It could be someone who wasn’t asked at all.’

P atrik went back downstairs to commune with his computer. Meanwhile, she was impatiently pacing the corridor to pass the time.
    The donor must have died just before 15 March, 1998. How could they find out who he or she was? Maybe there were lists of donors in that secret world Patrik could access through his computer. If there were, she felt certain he would find it. Everything seemed to be connected by that strange Net of his.
    He mustn’t say anything to his mother. She had forbidden him, deciding that she preferred to stay chief suspect for however long it took to find the answer alone. The police might be on the same trail – but why would they be? They knew who the murderer was already.
    When Patrik returned, he had no good news to bring. There were no officially available registers of dead individuals, only general mortality statistics. It was not helpful to know that during the year, 93,271 people had died.
    ‘I’ve checked the sites of the Population Register and the Central Statistical Bureau, but they won’t let you in on the actual lists without permission from the Data Inspection Office.’
    He looked so young in his dejection that Sibylla had to smile.
    ‘You’ve got to be an exceptionally smart fifteen-year-old!’
    He turned his head away but she had already noticed how he blushed.
    ‘Bah.’
    They sat in silence for a while. Chasing murderers from hiding places in attics wasn’t easy. Then Sibylla remembered something.
    ‘I’ve got it. What we need is access to the Donor Register.’
    ‘What’s that?’
    She knew more than he did this time and the feeling made her smile inside, even though her superior knowledge was very recent. She wasn’t as thick as he might have thought, no poor helpless soul he could save by his bravery. Besides, she was twice his age and she wanted him never to forget that simple fact.
    She fetched the pile of papers from her armchair, leafing through them until she found what she was looking for.
    ‘Here, in the documentation from the Health and Welfare Board. Information about donations. Listen to what it says.’
    She read aloud.

    ‘Question: Can relatives have access to information held in the register?
    Answer: It is a criminal offence for outsiders to attempt access to the register. The routine precautions are designed to maintain the highest data security. Only a few people are authorised to search the register. Each authorisation refers to one individual, i.e. it is not transferable.’
    She flicked the paper out of her hand and let it float away.
    ‘Ah, well. It seemed a good idea at the time.’
    He looked intently at her.
    ‘How much is it worth to you to find out what the Register says?’
    ‘A lot.’
    ‘Several thousand?’
    She hesitated for a moment. Several thousand might mean half a bedroom.
    ‘What’s this about?’
    ‘I know a guy who might check it out. For a down-payment, a big one.’
    ‘How do