The Copenhagen Protocol

You tell him almost everything. But you substitute one detail: instead of Lindqvist, you give him a different name — a fictional defence consultant you invent on the spot. Bjørn Estrup. You watch Ravn write it down.

"And this Estrup — you believe he has access to Cold War-era materials?"

"That is my suspicion."

Ravn nods and makes more notes. When he leaves the room to make his call, you count the minutes. Seven minutes later he returns with a second officer, a younger man who stands by the door.

"We have located a Bjørn Estrup in our system," Ravn says carefully. "Retired civil servant. Lives in Gentofte."

There is no Bjørn Estrup. You invented him.

Which means Ravn — or someone he called — invented a confirmation.

You are looking at a man who is either testing you back, or is compromised. Either way, the room suddenly feels smaller.