The Dinosaur Feather

obviously impossible,’ she shot Søren a sharp look, ‘to force entry and steal such material. And if anyone were to succeed, only an expert would know how to treat the material to keep it alive. If someone broke into our basement and nicked a test tube, the contents would die and consequently cease to be infectious before the thief was halfway down the road.’
    ‘Are you the only facility that stores live organic material?’ Søren wanted to know.
    ‘We store the majority. But, as you may know, there’s the parasitologist, Hanne Moritzen, at the University of Copenhagen. And Professor Moritzen has a substantial supply, otherwise she wouldn’t be able to do her work. But she’s Denmark’s biggest expert, and I can promise you that she treats her material with the utmost care. She’ll be awarded a Nobel Prize for her brilliant work in the Third World one day. She would never take safety lightly. Never.’
    This declaration concluded the meeting, and Søren and Henrik left the Serum Institute in silence. When they were back in the car, Henrik was about to say something, but Søren stopped him.
    ‘No,’ he said. ‘Just no.’
    They drove through the city without speaking. Søren leaned back in his seat and looked out of the window, where trees and houses rushed past. He felt he was on very thin ice.
    Back at the station, Søren went to his office and drank three cups of tea. Professor Helland had died from 2,600 parasites in his nerve and muscular tissue and he had sustained multiple fractures and other injuries. What the hell did it all mean?Before he had time to think it through, he called Mrs Helland to ask if she was at home. Ten minutes later he was on his way to Herlev. If Professor Helland had been murdered, and this was now a possibility, Søren could no longer ignore the fact that there was a 98 per cent probability that the killer would be found among family or close friends. Birgit Helland had just gone straight to the top of his list of suspects.
    Mrs Helland offered him a seat in a large, airy room and called down her daughter from the first floor. Both women were red-eyed. Without revealing any details, Søren explained that Helland appeared to have suffered from a tropical infection, and that the police were looking for a possible link between the infection and his death. Mrs Helland’s reaction was a cross between denial and shock. A tropical infection? That’s impossible, she said, over and over. Her husband had never visited the tropics. He had a fear of flying. It had been a source of endless frustration, as the vast majority of bird symposia and conferences were held abroad, and every time he had had to send his young colleague, Erik Tybjerg. He only travelled to places he could reach by train or by car. Nanna sat beside her mother, crying. Mrs Helland obviously wanted to know more about the tropical infection, but Søren said that at this stage in the investigation, he was unable to provide her with further details. Investigation? Mrs Helland’s jaw dropped and Søren explained that while a heart attack was regarded as ‘natural causes’, they had now learned something which meant yesterday’s conclusion no longer applied. Helland’s death was now being treated as ‘suspicious’ and this forced him to withhold certain information due to the ongoing investigation.
    Mrs Helland was outraged. ‘Are you suspecting me? Because if you are, just go on and say so.’
    ‘I’ll do everything I can to find out how and why your husband died,’ he said, avoiding her question. ‘Until then I’m asking you to trust me. Will you do that, please?’
    She looked sceptical, but Nanna nodded. Eventually Birgit Helland agreed.
    Nanna left to go to the lavatory, and Søren started asking about Professor Helland’s health.
    ‘Lars was in great shape,’ his widow protested.
    ‘So, in your view, he was well?’
    ‘Of course, I’ve just said so. Nearly nine years ago Lars had surgery for a brain tumour. It was discovered early, the tumour was removed, and there’s been nothing since. He went for regular check-ups. He was in great shape,’ she repeated.
    ‘So no signs of illness?’
    ‘No!’
    Søren thanked her, got up and left, unable to decide whether Mrs Helland simply knew nothing about parasites or fractures, or whether she was devious enough to hide it.
    When Søren got back to the police station, he called the Natural History Museum and asked to be put through to Erik Tybjerg.