The Dinosaur Feather

& E and asked him to check their records. He owed me a favour and, yes, I do know it’s illegal.’ Bøje raised his hand to pre-empt Søren’s objection. ‘Helland never visited A & E in the last year. Not once. Obviously, he might have seen his own doctor, you’ll have to check that, but he definitely never went to A & E, even though several of his injuries would require immediate medical assistance. The damage resembles those of victims of domestic violence, women who are too scared to see a doctor because they know it would mean a week in chokey for the husband. If Helland’s body hadn’t been crawling with parasites, I would have suggested that he might have been abused. Now, of course, my guess is that the fractures are connected to the parasites. Why he was never patched up is a different story altogether . . .’ Bøje gave Søren a knowing look as if to say that was Søren’s department.
    ‘Could his injuries alone have killed him?’
    ‘No,’ Bøje said. ‘Lars Helland died from 2,600 uninvited organic growths in his tissue. I’m 100 per cent sure.’
    Søren’s knees wobbled as he stood up.
    After his visit to the hospital, Søren drove home as though the devil was on his back. The sky had been grey and heavy all day, but while Søren had been in the basement with Bøje, patches of blue had broken through and the temperaturehad dropped. Søren rolled down the window and felt the sharp air against his face.
    What the hell had just happened?
    He pulled in behind a lorry and reduced his speed.
    Easy now.
    Once he got home, he cooked dinner and sat down to eat. Suddenly, he felt crawling and prickling underneath his clothes. His groin itched, and when he had wolfed down his food he took a shower. His cheek tingled and he shaved. Finally, he tried to check himself for head lice and spent ages staring at his big toenail. Did he have a fungal infection? How had those ghastly creepy-crawlies entered that poor man? He couldn’t come up with a single explanation. Had Helland eaten one of them? How had it multiplied? Had it reproduced once it was inside him? Was it airborne? Or in the drinking water? He paced up and down the living room. Then he fetched a beer and told himself to give it a rest.
    Early the following morning, Søren drove to Copenhagen, bursting with pent-up energy. From the car he called Helland’s widow, Birgit. He got the answering machine. He asked her to call him as soon as possible. Then he called his secretary and asked her to find the number for Professor Moritzen, a parasitologist at the University of Copenhagen. He liked making Linda laugh, but this morning he failed. She called him back three minutes later. He had to move to the slow lane to write down the number and hoped that none of his more officious colleagues were about. He called Professor Moritzen and pulled back into the fast lane.
    ‘Hello?’ Hanne Moritzen answered at the first ring. She sounded sleepy and distant. When he introduced himself, she went very quiet for a moment.
    ‘Is Asger all right?’ she whispered, almost inaudibly. Søren had done this a million times before, so he quickly reassured her.
    ‘I’m not calling about your family.’
    He heard her breathe a sigh of relief and gave her two seconds to process the false alarm before saying, ‘I would very much welcome your help regarding some parasites we’ve found in connection with a death. Yesterday, Bøje Knudsen, the Deputy Medical Examiner, told me no one knows more about parasites than you.’
    Professor Moritzen was clearly relieved.
    ‘Is it urgent? I drove up to my cottage late last night and I wasn’t planning on returning to Copenhagen until Wednesday.’
    Søren thought about it and they agreed that he would call her back when he knew more about just how urgent it was. Professor Moritzen wanted to know what questions he might have and Søren concluded the conversation by saying:
    ‘I’m afraid that I can’t disclose that at this stage, but I’ll obviously explain the circumstances to you, if it turns out that we need your expertise. For now, I would like to thank you for your time.’
    Søren was about to hang up when Professor Moritzen said, ‘Does this have anything to do with the death of Lars Helland?’
    ‘You knew Lars Helland?’ Søren said before he could stop himself.
    ‘Yes, we both worked at the institute, but in different departments. I’ve just heard what’s happened. I’m verysorry.’ She sounded genuinely