She waited for Oswald by the gate. She was shivering a little; the air was cold although it was a beautiful spring day. Morning assembly was in full swing in the yard and Bosse was lecturing the staff in an insistent tone. Everywhere she looked she saw new foliage and flowers: the tulips stood in tight bunches around the pond and the lilac bushes had just leafed. She glanced at the winding gravel road outside the gate. A gust of wind came over the wall, carrying the scent of saltwater and seaweed.
It smells like freedom out there, she thought.
Oswald’s car came from the garage and slowed down once he caught sight of her. The gravel crunched under the tyres and flew up at her legs.
He rolled down the window and gave her a puzzled look.
‘I just wanted to make sure you have everything you need,’ she said.
‘Okay. But shouldn’t you be in the office working on the propositions? Time is getting short.’
‘I’ll handle it.’
‘Good. The lecture is at ten so I should make the five o’clock ferry back.’
She felt a jab of disappointment — she’d hoped he would be gone overnight. But she still had time.
He waved at the guard, who saluted him and opened the gate. She stayed put and watched the car vanish down the gravel road. She just knew he was staring at her in the rear-view mirror.
*
Instead of going to the office she hurried for the library.
Morning assembly was over and Mona was strolling across the lawn. She looked old and clumsy in the faded winter coat she wore over her uniform. Her hair was uncombed, her face worn and tired. A flash of concern appeared in her eyes when she caught sight of Sofia.
‘I want to talk to you, Mona. Can we go in?’
‘Of course.’ Mona fumbled as she inserted the key into the lock. She opened the door to the library, which felt cold and draughty and empty, as if it had been abandoned for a long time. Mona turned on the ceiling lights and sat down at her desk without taking off her coat. Sofia took a seat on the chair in front of her.
‘Where is Elvira?’ She wanted to get right to the point.
‘I told you.’
‘Don’t lie to me.’
‘What do you want, Sofia? You’ve become so unpleasant.’
‘I want to know where Elvira is.’
‘I told you, she went to the mainland.’
‘And I want to know the truth.’
Mona’s lower lip trembled and her eyes darted this way and that. She was at the breaking point — all it would take was a little nudge, one last shove.
‘This is serious, really serious, and I want you tell me the truth.’
‘Sofia, I can’t. You know I can’t. Franz —’
‘Franz just left. He can’t see us. He’s on his way to the ferry.’
Suddenly she felt uncertain and looked up at the ceiling in search of cameras, but she realized that Oswald had stuck to the manor house during the installation. There were no cameras in the library.
Mona hadn’t even noticed Sofia’s wandering gaze. She was just staring at the desk, sullen and reticent.
‘Tell me where she is!’
‘But I promised, don’t you get it? I swore not to tell!’
‘For Christ’s sake, she’s only fourteen!’
‘Age doesn’t matter. Franz says she’s the chosen one.’
‘Chosen one? What does that mean?’
‘She’s his soulmate. He’s known it since he first laid eyes on her. He just knew she was the right one. At first she was just here to work and so on, but then he decided she was ready.’
‘Ready for what?’
‘They have some sort of spiritual relationship. That’s all I know.’
She felt the sudden urge to smack Mona and wondered if she was really as stupid as she seemed. Did she even care? Did she really think this was normal?
‘Can’t you hear yourself? Are you completely braindead?’
‘No, I most certainly am not! Don’t you know what this will mean for her future?’
‘Mona, listen to me. He doesn’t care about her. He just likes young girls. I’ve seen the pictures on his computer . . .’
Mona’s face crumpled until she looked like a raisin. She jabbed a spindly finger at Sofia and started shouting at her.
‘You’re lying, you’re lying! Stop lying!’
Sofia tried again, praying that no one could hear them outside the building.
‘He’s taken nude pictures of her. I saw them. You ought to be put away for this, just like him.’
Mona had begun to sob. Shit! It would be impossible to get her to talk in this state. Sofia switched to a gentler tone.
‘She’s up in the attic, isn’t she?’
‘Yes, but it’s really nice up there.’
‘Do you ever see her?’
‘No, but . . .’
‘But what?’
‘It’s not good for her while she’s undergoing preparation. To see us, I mean. But he takes good care of her. He gives her food and stuff.’
Sofia didn’t say a word for a while, figuring that she wouldn’t get any farther with Mona; the woman was just another cog in a big wheel, not useful at all, only worn out and broken.
‘I know you’re doing this for her own good,’ she said, and Mona relaxed a little. ‘But if you tell Franz I asked about her, if you even mention it, I will tell him you were the one who came to me. That you were super worried and wanted my help to get Elvira out. And which one of us do you think he’ll believe?’
Mona pursed her lips. Her eyes were narrowed lines.
‘I’m not saying anything. But what are you planning to do?’
‘I’m going to find out what he’s doing to her.’
Mona buried her face in her hands. Her head trembled and her back shook. When she looked up again, her eyes were red.
‘He’s so nice to me, Sofia. He’s taking care of me now, making sure no one picks on me. He’s been so sweet, and he promised I can stay at the library. I’m sure he’s being really nice to Elvira too. Please don’t poke your nose into this . . .’
Sofia didn’t respond; instead she placed her hand over Mona’s and squeezed it, then stood up. She went back outside, into the spring sunshine. She wondered if Anders would be of any use, but quickly let go of the thought. Anders would never question Oswald’s actions.
She had to talk to someone — her head felt like it was about to burst with all this. But she didn’t know who she could trust. Maybe not even Simon. What if he had bought his way back into the greenhouse by spying for Oswald? She could see him right now; he was out in the vegetable garden putting up a fence. He waved at her with his huge glove.
‘I think I’m going crazy,’ she said as she walked up to him.
‘Better tell me what’s up.’
‘You’re not a spy, are you, Simon?’
‘A spy? Are you nuts? How many times do I have to tell you I’m just a simple farmer?’
‘I almost forgot.’
‘I can keep working while you talk. That way it’ll just look like you’re chewing me out, as usual.’
He didn’t say a word as she told him what she knew; he just kept placing the wire fence around the neat lines of plants. When she was done, he stopped and looked her right in the eyes.
‘Jesus, this is nuts!’
‘I know. What should I do?’
‘What you’re already doing, I think. Snoop around. Gather evidence.’
‘I’m so, so scared he’s going to catch me, Simon. I don’t know what he would do with me if he did.’
‘You’re going to manage it. I just know it. To escape, I mean.’
‘But what about Elvira? How do we get her out?’
‘I don’t think she wants to get out. She’s probably, like, totally out of it. But he’s a paedophile, and if you can prove it he’ll end up behind bars.’
‘So I have to find out what he’s doing to her, don’t I?’
‘Maybe. But it’s more important for you to get out. If he finds you out and sends you to Penance again, I’ll help you run away.’
‘Oh, I’m sure he would come up with something even worse. Like forcing me to jump from Devil’s Rock when it’s windy as hell. “Oops! Another fatal accident!”’
Her phone dinged. As she opened the text, her hand trembled.
Simon stood before her, breathing down her neck, as they read it. Ellis wrote that she should transfer the files to a thumb drive and mail it to him, along with some other information about the computer and the system they had come from.
And his irritating conclusion: Problems with the cult out there? Thought as much. E.
‘I have to copy those files,’ she said. ‘And take them with me when I escape.’
‘How can you be so sure Ellis isn’t tricking you? He was evil to you before, and now he might be after revenge for the court case,’ Simon pointed out.
‘He has a hugely swollen ego; he wants to prove he knows everything. Plus, he was sort of right when he came here to yell about freeing me from the cult, wasn’t he?’
*
She jogged up the stairs and hesitated for a moment but decided to stop by Oswald’s private room before going to the office to copy the files. She wanted to confirm her suspicions: if she knew Oswald, he had cameras in the attic.
Once inside, she locked the door and turned on the TV. None of the buttons on the remote brought up an image of the attic, no matter how much she fumbled with them. Think, she commanded herself. Some rooms are linked to the office, and some go here. Bosse and I have access to the system in the office and that can only mean one thing. The camera in the attic must be linked to this system, but how the hell do I bring up the image?
She tested out various combinations of digits and almost gave up, but then she tried 666 out of sheer desperation — and there it was.
The white walls and furniture seemed to glow on the screen. Elvira was sitting on the bed, the covers drawn up to her waist, but her upper body was bare. She was reading a piece of paper on her lap. There was a tray of food on the nightstand.
Sofia studied Elvira’s face to see how she was feeling, but she seemed totally focused on whatever she was reading and didn’t seem concerned in the least. Simon was right, she thought. She’s in a dream world, like a Hollywood film where she’s the chosen one. This is totally off the wall.
There were two beds in the room now, one against each wall. At first she thought perhaps Oswald slept there sometimes, but then she recalled the words he’d said the day before.
I have big plans for you, Sofia.
What if he wants me in there too, she thought. No, I’m just imagining all sorts of shit now. But something inside her whispered to be careful, and she felt a sense of urgency, hot as his panting breath, as she headed for the office.
Yet she forgot to start transferring the files from his computer — that pile of propositions on her desk distracted her. The certainty that they had to be finished before he got home.
It wasn’t until lunchtime that she remembered the folders; she almost choked when she realized how little time she had.
As soon as she was back in the office, she set to work. She knew where Oswald kept his thumb drives, so she found the one with the greatest capacity and deleted everything on it.
She began to copy the folders and watched the little bar that showed the progress.
One percent. Two percent. Dammit, it seemed to be taking forever. She decided to finish up the propositions to distract herself. She worked quickly and methodically.
She went back and looked at the bar again. Seventy-five percent now. Nervous, she circled the computer and mentally urged it to hurry up.
Then the unthinkable happened. There was a buzz of static and a click, and suddenly all the electronics in the office seemed to take a deep breath and go silent, all at once. All the screens went black. The power! The fucking power had gone out. She opened the door and found the corridor bathed in light. She realized it must be a fuse and fumbled through the fuse box until she found the right one. She replaced it and everything returned to life.
She rushed to turn off everything but Oswald’s computer and her own; she didn’t want to take the chance that it might happen again.
All she could do was start the file copy over from scratch.
She finished editing the propositions and felt a sense of satisfaction even as her anxiety was about to do her in.
Eighty-two percent. Almost finished. Soon all his shit would be on the tiny drive.
She printed out the propositions and placed them in a neat pile on his desk, then decided to transfer them to his computer so they would be there when he got home. He would probably be happy. Even thrilled.
She used her own thumb drive for that transfer, then pulled out the drive and stuck it in her pocket. She stared impatiently at the first drive, which was still inserted, the progress bar crawling toward the goal. A glance at the clock told her it was quarter to three. She had plenty of time, and the bar was almost to the end. Ninety-eight percent.
But then she heard steps in the corridor, and they were so familiar that the hair stood up on the back of her neck. It was impossible, but she heard them. Her mind whirled. She could pull out the drive, but evidence of the transfer would still be on the screen. There was no time. There was simply no solution.
Jesus fucking Christ, what am I going to say?
The handle turned. Shock washed over her as she saw him in the doorway, his eyes wide.
‘What the fuck are you doing with my computer?’
It’s so quiet I can hear her inside the house. A few noises: rustling, the lamp falling to the marble floor.
Everything seems to be going according to plan.
I think I can hear the crackle of the match as she lights it. But it must be my imagination; that door is thick.
I’m sitting with my back against it, keeping guard. Just as I promised. I went up to look at them one last time, knocked out in their beds. Dad snoring heavily and Emilie curled up in a ball like she was in hibernation.
I know I won’t miss them. Their lives are so completely meaningless. They’ve never done anything great, and they never will. There is no room for people like them on this earth.
She must be finished.
The flickering light from the fire reaches me. I imagine what it must look like inside. Flames leaping for the stairs, blocking the way out.
The big glass windows downstairs. Like walls. Impossible to open.
There is only one way out for her. And this is it. Right where I’m sitting.
Thirty seconds. That’s all she has left.
Thirty seconds, max. Maybe twenty, if I’m lucky.
And now her hand is on the handle.
She tries to turn it. First calmly, but then more frantically.
Until at last she’s yanking furiously at it.
But my hand is there. Firm and steady. And my back, pressing against the door.
The smoke must be thick by now.
She pounds and kicks at the door like a lunatic.
‘Fredrik! The door is stuck! Help! Fredrik!’
And she starts coughing from the smoke.
I stay put, pressing my back to the door, listening to the rustling, the coughing, the pounding. The rasp of her nails against the wood as she falls. I picture the flames catching up to her.
The door has grown very hot and I have to move out into the yard. I think, the door was actually open the whole time. All she had to do was try. But she didn’t.
Now it’s burning. The whole fucking thing is burning.
I stand in the yard, admiring the magnificence.
I see a flash of something in an upstairs window. A shadow, the face of someone who has crawled their way over. A black dot popping up for an instant.
And falling back again, into the flames.