The Dinosaur Feather

published on the club’s website. The caption below the photo simply says “3 rd September 2007”. That’s why I thought it had to be him.’ Sten smiled wryly before he continued: ‘Elsewhere on the website, he calls himself Orlando, but his alias doesn’t appear to be an attempt to disguise his identity, more like a part of the game that goths appear to be playing. Seriously!’ he added, when he saw the sceptical expression on Søren’s face. ‘They act out Count Dracula parties. It seems rather appealing. A club that practises tolerance, acceptance and community. The goth scene, as far as I’ve been able to establish, appears to be a reaction to 1980s punk. Punks must have a particular look and share the same views. The goths have no time for that.
No code, no core, no truth
. That’s their slogan. The unique, personal expression is everything.’
    ‘Is it a gay club?’ Søren asked.
    ‘No. Like I said: no code, no rules,’ Sten said. ‘Gays are welcome as are straight people. Many people turn up in normal clothes and never reveal which team they play for.’
    ‘No sex?’ Søren asked.
    ‘No, no sex. That’s probably why nobody bothers to disguise their identity. Johannes isn’t the only one whose name is published. All that’s kept secret is where events take place. If you want to take part, you sign up to a text message list. You get a text informing you when the next event is taking place, a few hours before doors open. The venue changes every time. Probably to avoid interfering neo-Nazis and other troublemakers.’ Sten shrugged.
    ‘I don’t get the impression that anything shady happens there,’ he went on. ‘We’re talking about a group of adults with a penchant for horror, thrills and darkness, who like to dress up. However, there are many overlappers on the goth scene.’
    ‘Overlappers?’
    ‘People who are part of the goth culture and also active on the fetish scene, and let me tell you something. The goth scene may be open, but the fetish scene is hermetically sealed, like a frightened oyster. That club is called Inkognito. The same people are behind the monthly club events, but strict rules govern fetish arrangements. There’s a total ban on pictures. Fetishists are usually older than people from the goth scene, and typically more established with families and senior executive jobs, so consequently they’re more protective of their privacy. The fundamental difference between the goth and fetish scenes is obviously sex. Fetish events take place in dark rooms where people can enjoy themselves anonymously. The sexual activities are fairly hardcore. You can be spanked, have clamps attached to your nipples, be suspended from the wall by pulleys and weights, there’s Japanese bondage and things which I had – obviously – never heard about until I read about it on the Net late last night.’ Sten grinned at Søren. ‘But anyway, everyone’s anonymous, even when they’re having sex. You find a partner and do your thing. Johannes received several e-mails announcing fetish events, so I believe there’s a good chance that he was active on both scenes. I reckon Orlando met YourGuy at an event in one of the two clubs and has now gone missing because he’s hiding from YourGuy. He sounds creepy to me,’ Sten added, snapping his fingers against the printouts.
    Søren pondered this. ‘And you don’t think YourGuy is just suffering from a regular crush and that his tone is a bit rough because people on that scene talk to each other like that?’
    Sten nodded. ‘You may be right, but what really got me thinking is that YourGuy’s address is anonymous, or fictitious. He lists it as “Donald Duck, 2200 Ducktown”. You can do that with free e-mail accounts. You can create an anonymous address, just like the person who e-mailed threats to Helland, and you can call yourself anything, Donald Duck or Bill Clinton, and if you also use an Internet café, well, then you’re completely untraceable. The account was created on the eighth of September this year, and only three e-mails were ever sent from it: on the twelfth and the sixteenth of September, and four days ago, on the seventh of October. Of course I’ve spoken to the owner of the Internet café, whose server I’ve traced the e-mails to, but he just laughed when he heard my request. The café has twenty computers spread across three small rooms and has approximately two hundred users per day. They’ve no idea who comes and