“Where is everyone? Are you the only one who’s on duty?” she asked.
“The superintendent went to a meeting and the others—,” Irene began.
“I came here myself since I was in the neighborhood. I’m flying to New York but before that I want to hand over the preliminary autopsy report on Erik Bolin. The medical odontologists have also confirmed that the head in the burial chamber belonged to Marcus Tosscander.”
While she was talking, she pulled out some papers from her elegant leather briefcase.
“Erik Bolin’s,” she said curtly, and threw them on the desk in front of Irene.
Without looking at them, Irene asked, “Is the mutilation the same type as with the previous victims?”
“Yes. The chest muscles, one buttock, and the penis. None of Bolin’s internal organs were removed; however, the head was. It was cut off with an extremely sturdy, sharp knife. I would guess a knife similar to our autopsy knives.”
“Why do necrophiles do this sort of thing?” Irene asked.
Stridner’s forehead wrinkled. “The question is not phrased correctly. Necrophiles don’t do this sort of thing. Necrophiles literally love dead people, but they don’t kill them. Necrophiles who devote themselves to necrosadism are, thankfully, an exceedingly small fraction. As I’ve already told you, the type of murderer we’re chasing right now is very rare. But sometimes they pop up and we become overwhelmed in the presence of what we regard as an inhumane atrocity. But actually a necrosadist isn’t any more gruesome than any other kind of murderer. The result is the same: a murdered person, a life that has been snuffed out forever. What terrifies us is the abuse of the dead body after the murder. We see it as something sick.”
While she was delivering her little lecture, Stridner clip-clopped around the room on her high-heeled pumps. She stopped in front of Manpower. Even after she had finished speaking, she remained, examining the picture.
“For a split second I had the feeling that I recognized this man. But I don’t know. No one I know poses for porn pictures,” she said finally.
Irene walked over to Stridner. “Interesting. Both Hannu Rauhala and I also think we recognize the man. None of the others are sure.”
The professor leaned forward so that she could study the photo more closely. Suddenly, she straightened up and exclaimed, “Now I know! He works with us.”
Irene realized that she had been holding her breath. She exhaled and asked, “Does he work in Pathology?”
“Yes. But he doesn’t have a permanent position because he’s a student.”
A medical student? It was quite common for medical students to find extra work as autopsy technicians.
Her voice shook when Irene asked, “What’s his name and what does he study?”
Stridner continued her examination of Manpower.
“I don’t remember his name. But he’s an art student. He was the one who made the copy of Marcus Tosscander’s tattoo.”
Basta had spent several hours sitting next to the mutilated upper body of his victim, making an exact copy of the dragon tattoo. The thought was nauseating.
“Erik Bolin took the picture. The man in the picture is called Basta, and he’s probably Bolin and Marcus Tosscander’s murderer. In addition, he’s been linked to three murders in Copenhagen,” said Irene.
Stridner did not move. “I have a hard time believing that anyone at Pathology would be capable of this. But we’ll go up right away and try and find out his name. If for no other reason than so he can be exonerated and dismissed from the investigation,” she said finally.
YVONNESTRIDNER rushed into the employee lounge with Irene in tow, like a skiff in her wake. There were only two people sitting there. The man had very dark skin and hair. Irene guessed that he was Indian. She recognized the woman as Britt Nilsson, a young, newly hired pathologist. It wasn’t her name that had struck a cord when Svante Malm spoke about her, but the fact that he had referred to her as Stridner’s assistant. The link to Stridner and Pathology had made Irene react.
Another person worked with Stridner, but not as her assistant; rather, just as an attendant. He was called Basta, and Irene had seen him in Pathology. Now she remembered the last time she had seen Basta. It was when she had asked for Stridner and he had pointed at the autopsy room, where the professor was in the process of performing a postmortem examination on pieces of Marcus. When he stretched out his arm and pointed at the