Farewell to Freedom Read Free

hello.
    She kept searching, quickly scanning the other papers’ news services and checking Radio Denmark and TV2, but there wasn’t much. The stories she did find weren’t going to end up on the front page. Camilla reached for the phone as she glanced at the clock. It was already quarter past nine, and the editor-in-chief, Terkel Høyer, nodded to her as he walked by. Camilla closed the door to the conference room before putting in some calls to the police departments to find out what they had in their blotters from the weekend.

    â€œOkay, what’ve we got?” Terkel began once Camilla and her colleague, Ole Kvist, were seated along with Jakob the intern, who offered them the cinnamon rolls that he’d picked up. It was his last week on the job before he returned to the School of Media and Journalism to finish his degree.
    Camilla looked down at the one story she hadn’t crossed off her notepad yet; neither the stabbing nor the car crash had made the cut. Kvist leafed through the clippings in front of him. He made a habit of stopping by the news desk every Monday morning on his way up to their editorial offices on the second floor. Like most large news organizations, they subscribed to all the smaller newspapers in Denmark, and Kvist quickly tossed any crime stories. He didn’t actually evaluate which were worth discussing until it was time for him to pitch his own stories. His stack of clippings always looked so impressive, even though only a couple of them would actually merit any follow-up, because by the time they reached the crime pages of Morgenavisen they were considered old news.
    â€œThere’s a gang of art thieves at work in the Silkeborg area,” Kvist said, reading the lede of the first clipping and glancing sideways at his boss to make sure his interest was piqued before continuing.
    â€œApparently the thieves go straight for the expensive art on the wall, and this weekend they took a pricey Per Kirkeby painting and two other works by a Norwegian artist in the same price range from some mansion. The police estimate the mansion has several million kroners’ worth of art in it. And they’ve had other cases of similar types of break-ins over the past couple of months.”
    The tone of his voice grew more eager as he worked up enthusiasm for the story.
    â€œI don’t think that’s really anything for us,” Camilla ventured. “That story is already old news.”
    â€œIt’d be worth doing if we could help them nail the gang by publicizing the case,” Kvist pointed out, adding a pleading look to his face for their boss’s benefit.
    â€œWhich newspaper did you get that from?” the editor-in-chief asked, reaching for the clipping.
    â€œIt’s from central Jutland, so the story probably hasn’t run in any of the bigger papers yet,” Kvist replied, proposing that he at least take time to make some calls about it.
    Camilla broke off part of her cinnamon roll. There wouldn’t be anything to that story until the police made some sort of breakthrough, but it wouldn’t surprise her if Kvist got away with it anyway.
    â€œIt’s right out where all those car dealers live, with a fabulous view over the Silkeborg lakes. They can all afford to have that kind of art,” Kvist reminded them. “So it wouldn’t be that hard for the thieves to figure out someone’s home address, case the joint, and then make their move when the occupants go out for cocktails with their neighbors.”
    Camilla thought about the officers handling the case. Surely that scenario must have occurred to them too.
    â€œWell, look into it then,” said Terkel, interrupting her thoughts. “Have you got anything else?”
    Kvist shook his head, shoving the other clippings under the story that had been accepted. He glanced over at Camilla, who quickly wiped the crumbs from her mouth.
    â€œLind, what have you got?”