Fabian held up the mobile. ‘First, we should, as you said yourself, put this back where it belongs. We don’t want your father to come home and find it has no charge. So if you could start by showing me to his office.’

‘Okay.’ Rutger jumped over the back of the sofa like he was doing parkour and jogged across the living room towards a spiral staircase.

Fabian followed him down to the basement, past a spa section with reclining chairs, a sauna and sliding glass doors opening on to the pool area outside. A few doors and a short hallway later, Rutger stopped and turned to him.

‘But you have to promise not to tell him I have a key.’

‘I promise.’

Rutger pulled a small bunch of keys from his pocket, found the right one, turned to one of the doors and put the key in the lock. Fabian noted that it was a proper lock, the kind you would normally see on a front door.

‘But hold on, Rutger,’ Wilhelm said as Rutger was about to turn the key. ‘What if your dad’s the suspect?’

Rutger turned to Fabian. ‘Is he? Is my dad the suspect?’

‘No, he’s not.’

Fabian didn’t like to lie. Especially to children. That said, Jacobsén had passed the stage where he was merely a suspect, so that should excuse part of the lie. ‘And as I’m sure you understand, I can’t tell you exactly what this is about.’

The boys looked at each other and when Wilhelm finally nodded, Rutger unlocked the door.

‘Thanks.’ Fabian entered the room. ‘Why don’t you go back upstairs and play your game and I’ll let you know if I need more help.’

‘Or we can wait here until he’s done.’ Wilhelm crossed his arms.

‘Nah, come on, let’s play,’ Rutger said and disappeared with Wilhelm hard on his heels.

‘But do come down and tell me the moment one of your parents shows up!’

‘Okay!’ Rutger shouted back from the spiral staircase.

Fabian turned on one of the two desk lamps and immediately noticed how neat and tidy the office was. Unlike the hallway and the living room, there was a kind of compulsive order in this room, with everything meticulously in its place.

Apart from that, it looked more or less like a normal study. Desks with computers, filing cabinets and a printer, bookshelves filled with binders sorted according to colour and the inevitable piles of bills and unopened envelopes. The only thing that stood out was a small workbench strewn with electronics, soldering irons and circuit boards.

He turned on the computer, which, as expected, asked for a password. He skipped the most common ones like 123456, password and football and instead tried Columbus.

Incorrect password