The Dinosaur Feather(89)

“I think I’ll take a rain check on the pastries,” he said. He was starting to see parasites everywhere.


Less than thirty minutes later there was a knock on his door and Sten appeared.

“Am I interrupting you?”

“No, come in.”

Sten closed the door behind him. “I’ve finally ploughed through Johannes Trøjborg’s e-mails. There was a lot of them.” Sten took a seat opposite Søren’s desk.

“We already knew he was fighting with Helland from Helland’s computer, but . . .” Sten flicked through a pile of papers. “Yeah, here it is. It would appear that Lars Helland wasn’t the only person at the Department of Cell Biology and Comparative Zoology to receive mysterious e-mails.”

Søren leaned forward, intrigued now.

“Someone calling himself YourGuy sent three e-mails to Johannes in the last four weeks.” Sten read aloud from a sheet:

“I want to see you again. Don’t you get it? Call me! And the next one: I’m crazy about you. I’m beside myself with desire because of what you let me do to you. Call me!” Søren and Sten exchanged knowing glances. Sten read on:

“Hi, Jo. I crossed a line the other day. Sorry. I lost the plot because you’re so gorgeous. I’ve tried getting hold of you all week, but you won’t come to the door or take my calls. I respect you don’t want to, but can we talk, please?” Sten lowered the sheet.

Søren drummed his fingers on the table and looked out of the window.

“What can I say,” he said eventually. “Some kind of gay fling?”

“Take a look at this,” Sten said as if he hadn’t heard Søren and handed him a printout of a photograph. It showed an androgynous person, which Søren took to be a man due to the flatness of the chest underneath the corset. The hair was scraped back in oily furrows, the clothes were tight-fitting black leather, and he wore fishnet stockings. The lips were painted scarlet and the lipstick was smeared on one side, as if the lips were bleeding or had just been kissed. The eye makeup was theatrical. Thick lines of kohl and a decorative spider’s web spread its silvery threads toward the left temple.

“Who’s that?” Søren asked.

“I’m convinced it’s Johannes,” Sten replied. And now Søren could see it too. In a flash, Johannes’s features grew visible behind the make-up. Søren gasped.

“Well, I’ll be damned!” he said.

“Johannes is a goth,” Sten explained.

“A goth?” Søren frowned.

“It’s a subculture. I read about it on the Internet. Men and women worshiping the darkness and dressing up as everything from Count Dracula to dominatrixes in leather corsets. They love black-and-white makeup, and they have tons of piercings. The photo is from the Red Mask, which appears to be the most active goth club in Copenhagen. The club is open the first Friday of every month, and as far as I can see, its fame extends beyond Denmark. Photos are always published on the club’s website. The caption below the photo simply says ‘3rd 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 skeptical expression on Søren’s face. “They act out Count Dracula parties. It seems rather appealing. A club that practices 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 show 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.”