Chapters (92)
- Cover
- Maps
- Epigraph
- Prologue
- Chapter 1
- Chapter 2
- Chapter 3
- Chapter 4
- Chapter 5
- Chapter 6
- Chapter 7
- Chapter 8
- Chapter 9
- Chapter 10
- Chapter 11
- Chapter 12
- Chapter 13
- Chapter 14
- Chapter 15
- Chapter 16
- Chapter 17
- Chapter 18
- Chapter 19
- Chapter 20
- Chapter 21
- Chapter 22
- Chapter 23
- Chapter 24
- Chapter 25
- Chapter 26
- Chapter 27
- Chapter 28
- Chapter 29
- Chapter 30
- Chapter 31
- Chapter 32
- Chapter 33
- Chapter 34
- Chapter 35
- Chapter 36
- Chapter 37
- Chapter 38
- Chapter 39
- Chapter 40
- Chapter 41
- Chapter 42
- Chapter 43
- Chapter 44
- Chapter 45
- Chapter 46
- Chapter 47
- Chapter 48
- Chapter 49
- Chapter 50
- Chapter 51
- Chapter 52
- Chapter 53
- Chapter 54
- Chapter 55
- Chapter 56
- Chapter 57
- Chapter 58
- Chapter 59
- Chapter 60
- Chapter 61
- Chapter 62
- Chapter 63
- Chapter 64
- Chapter 65
- Chapter 66
- Chapter 67
- Chapter 68
- Chapter 69
- Chapter 70
- Chapter 71
- Chapter 72
- Chapter 73
- Chapter 74
- Chapter 75
- Chapter 76
- Chapter 77
- Chapter 78
- Chapter 79
- Chapter 80
- Chapter 81
- Chapter 82
- Chapter 83
- Chapter 84
- Chapter 85
- Chapter 86
- Epilogue
- About the Author
‘Yes, of course I know Fredrik Stuub,’ she says, still slightly out of breath. ‘Though only by name, to be honest. He hasn’t worked for us in years. Can I ask what this is about? I’m not allowed to give out information willy-nilly.’
Karen explains as blandly as she is able that Fredrik Stuub was found dead near his home and that it’s her job to ‘gather all relevant information’. Strictly ‘routine’.
‘Oh dear, I’m sorry to hear that,’ Jenny Older says distractedly. ‘But he was retiring when I started working here, so, like I said, I don’t know him personally. What did he die from? No, of course you can’t tell me, but I suppose he must have been fairly old.’
Granted, the media haven’t released the names of Fredrik or Gabriel Stuub, but the identity of the people behind the headlines are an open secret on Noorö. Jenny Older, however, doesn’t seem to have intuited any connection between the double murder and Fredrik Stuub. Karen can see no reason to help her along that path.
‘I don’t want to take up too much of your time,’ she says. ‘What I was really looking for was someone who could tell me briefly about Fredrik Stuub’s work.’
A short hesitation on the other end. Then Jenny Older seems to decide that information probably isn’t confidential.
‘He taught and did research within the biochemical field,’ she replies. ‘That is to say, he taught here until 2012, when he retired. After that, we signed an agreement that gave him continued access to our facilities and equipment for a further five years so he could conclude his research. I remember because Fredrik Stuub was one of the last to enjoy an agreement of that kind. Our policy vis-à-vis former employees has changed since.’
‘Why is that?’
‘At the end of the day, it’s a matter of prioritising. There was some discussion back and forth with our emeritus community. Knowledge transfer on the one hand, a reorientation of the university and resources on the other. In the end, the leadership decided we would no longer allow retired colleagues to remain associated with the university.’
‘And what was Fredrik Stuub’s research about?’
‘Mycotoxins. By which I mean different types of toxins that occur in mould. He was, among other things, regularly consulted by the media as an expert. Like when we had that aflatoxin scare a few years ago, for example.’
Karen searches her memory of alarmist evening news headlines screaming that what you’ve happily been eating all your life is going to kill you.