They all looked jaded, largely perhaps because the hope that had sprung into life with the discovery of the bogus courier was beginning to fade.

Tom Waaler had just gone through the results of the appeal for information they had put out over TV and radio. Twenty-four calls they had received, 13 of which were from their regulars who always rang in whether they had seen something or not. Of the other eleven calls, seven turned out to be genuine couriers on genuine jobs. Four callers told them what they already knew: that there had been a courier near Carl Berners plass on Monday at around 5 p.m. What was new was that he had been seen cycling down Trondheimsveien. The only interesting call came from a taxi driver who had seen a cyclist wearing a helmet, glasses, and a yellow and black shirt outside the Art and Technical School on his way up Ullevalsveien at around the time when Camilla Loen was killed. None of the courier services had taken on jobs anywhere near the Ullevalsveien area at that time of day. Then someone from Forstemann Courier Services had called in to say that he had nipped up Ullevalsveien on his way to the terrace restaurant in St Hanshaugen for a beer.

‘In other words, our inquiries have led nowhere.’ Moller said.

‘Still early days,’ Waaler said.

Moller nodded, but his expression indicated that he was not encouraged. Apart from Aune, everyone in the room knew that the first responses were the important ones. People forget quickly.

‘What do they say in the understaffed Institute of Forensic Medicine?’ Moller asked. ‘Have they found anything that can help identify our man?’

‘’Fraid not,’ Waaler said. ‘They’ve put the other autopsies to one side and prioritised ours, but so far nothing. No semen, no blood, no hair, nothing. The only physical clue the murderer has left is bullet holes.’

‘Interesting,’ Aune said.

Somewhat dejectedly, Moller asked what was so interesting.

‘It’s interesting because it suggests that he didn’t attack the victims sexually,’ Aune said. ‘And that’s very unusual for serial killers.’

‘Perhaps this is not about sex,’ Moller said.

Aune shook his head. ‘It’s always sexually motivated. Always.’

‘Perhaps he’s like Peter Sellers in Being There,’ Harry said. ‘“I like to watch.”’

The others stared at him in total incomprehension.

‘I mean, perhaps he doesn’t have to touch them to get sexual satisfaction.’

Harry avoided Waaler’s gaze.

‘Perhaps the killing and the sight of the body are enough.’

‘That could be right,’ Aune said. ‘What usually happens is that the murderer wants an orgasmic release, but he may have ejaculated without leaving his seed at the scene of the crime. Or he might have had enough self-control to wait until he was in safety.’

It went quiet for a few seconds. Harry knew they were all thinking the same as he was. What had the killer done with the woman who had disappeared, Lisbeth Barli?

‘What about the weapons we found at the crime scene?’

‘We’ve checked them,’ Beate said. ‘The tests show that they are ninety-nine point nine per cent certain to be the murder weapons.’

‘That’s good enough,’ Moller said. ‘Any idea where the weapons came from?’

Beate shook her head. ‘As before, the serial numbers have been filed off. The marks are the same as those we see on most of the weapons we confiscate.’

‘Hm,’ Moller said. ‘So, the great gun-running fraternity myth again. Surely the security service guys, POT, will get their hands on them soon, won’t they?’

‘Interpol has been working on the case for more than four years without anything to show for their efforts,’ Waaler said.

Harry rocked back on his chair and stole a furtive glance at Waaler. While doing that, to his consternation, he felt something he had never felt for Waaler before: admiration. The same kind of admiration you feel for beasts of prey that have perfected what they do to survive.

Moller sighed. ‘I know. We’re three-nil down and our opponent still hasn’t given us a sight of the ball. Does no-one have any bright ideas?’

‘I’m not exactly sure if it’s an idea…’

‘Come on, Harry.’

‘It’s more like a gut feeling about the crime scenes. They’ve all got something in common, but I can’t put my finger on what it is yet. The first shooting was in an attic flat in Ullevalsveien. The second about a kilometre north-west, in Sannergata. And the third about the same distance again from there, this time towards the east, in an office block by Carl Berners plass. He moves, but I have the feeling that there is a logic behind it.’

‘How’s that?’ Beate asked.

‘His territory,’ Harry said. ‘The psychologist can probably explain.’

Moller turned to Aune, who was just taking a gulp of tea.

‘Any comment, Aune?’

Aune grimaced. ‘Well, it’s not exactly Earl Grey.’

‘I didn’t mean the tea.’

Aune sighed.

‘It was a joke, Moller. I know what you’re getting at though, Harry. The killer has strong preferences with respect to the geographical location of the crime. Here, in rough terms, we can distinguish between three types.’

Aune counted on his fingers:

‘There is the stationary killer who entices or forces victims into his home and kills them. There is the territorial killer who operates in a restricted area, like Jack the Ripper who only killed in the red-light district, but their territory could easily be a whole town. Finally, there is the nomadic killer who is probably the one with most killings on his conscience. Ottis Toole and Henry Lee Lucas went from state to state in the US and killed more than three hundred people between them.’

‘Right,’ Moller said. ‘Though I can’t quite see the logic you were talking about, Harry.’

Harry shrugged his shoulders.

‘As I was saying, boss, just a gut feeling.’

‘There is one thing they’ve got in common,’ Beate said.

As if operated by remote control, the others turned to face her. Her cheeks immediately flushed and she seemed to regret saying anything. However, she ignored it and went on:

‘He intrudes where women feel at their most secure. Into their home. Into a street in broad daylight. Into the Ladies at work.’

‘Well done, Beate,’ Harry said, and received a quick flash of gratitude.

‘Well observed, young lady,’ Aune chimed in. ‘Since we’re talking about patterns of movement, I’d like to add one more thing. Killers of the sociopath variety are often very self-assured, just as it seems to be in this case. A characteristic feature of theirs is that they follow the investigation closely and tend to take every opportunity to be physically close to whatever is going on. They may interpret the investigation as a game between themselves and the police. Many have expressed pleasure at seeing the police in confusion.’

‘Which means that somewhere out there someone is sitting and lapping it up right now,’ Moller said, clapping his hands together. ‘That’s all for today.’

‘Just one more little thing,’ Harry said. ‘The diamonds that the murderer has placed on the victims…’

‘Yes?’

‘They’ve got five points. Almost like a pentagram.’

‘Almost? As far as I know, it’s exactly like a pentagram.’

‘A pentagram is drawn with one unbroken line which intersects itself.’

‘Aha!’ Aune exclaimed. ‘That pentagram. Drawn using the golden section. Very interesting shape. By the way, did you know that there is a theory that in Viking times the Celts were going to convert Norway to Christianity, so they drew a holy pentagram which they placed over southern Norway and used it to determine the location of towns and churches?’

‘What’s that got to do with diamonds?’ Beate asked.

‘It’s not the diamonds,’ Harry said. ‘It’s the shape, the pentagram. I know I’ve seen it somewhere, at one of the crime scenes, I just can’t remember which and where. This may sound like rubbish, but I think it’s important.’