“Ah, if it isn’t Kørner and Werner, our favorite wonder twins. Good to see you both!” He held up a black nylon backpack in his latex-clad hands. “This is it. No visible signs of violence, no tears, no blood. We’re taking it to the lab to have a closer look at it. You’ll get it back afterward, of course.”

“And his name is in it?” Anette asked.

Clausen opened the backpack and pointed to a label on the inside with Oscar’s name and phone number written in black marker.

“His name is in the textbooks, too, and this must be his laptop. I assume that should go to Saidani?” Clausen waited for a nod and then continued. “We’ll check it for prints right away, so you can take it. Beyond that, there’s just a pencil case and an empty water bottle.”

He automatically shook open a plastic bag with one hand and put the backpack into it with the other.

“Wait!” Jeppe beckoned to him. “Let me look at the books.”

“Sure.” Clausen reopened the backpack and carefully took out a book with his gloved fingers. “Why do you want to see them?”

“He’s out of comic books and doesn’t have anything to read on the john,” Anette joked. “Where was the backpack found?”

Clausen nodded toward the shore.

“It was tucked under the ramp,” he said. “Between some brooms and buckets that the boating association stores there, not particularly well hidden.”

“Who found it?”

“A caretaker guy from out at the fort. I asked him to wait for you. He’s over there.” Clausen nodded in the opposite direction, back out toward the water.

It took Anette a second before she spotted him in the stark afternoon sunlight, standing in a boat, leaning against the railing. She left Jeppe to look at the books and walked toward him, squinting her eyes, but could make out only the outline of a tall man, backlit, wearing coveralls, as far as she could tell. She shaded her eyes from the sun with one hand. The boat was compact, black and yellow, and looked mostly like a little tugboat. STÆRKODDER was painted in all caps on the side.

“Were you the one who found the backpack?”

“Who’s asking?” the man retorted, his face still obscured by the sunlight behind him.

“The police.”

He moved along the railing and hopped onto the dock.

“It was under the ramp. I found it when I went to grab a broom. Recognized the name from the coast guard’s search alert and called you guys. I have no idea how it got there.”

The man had thinning hair and broad shoulders with muscular tattooed arms, a slightly tousled look, and friendly, if sad-looking eyes. He held out his hand; it was strong and warm.

“Mads Teigen. I’m the caretaker at Trekroner Sea Fortress.”

“Anette Werner, investigator with the Copenhagen Police.”