Sofia’s mother had sent the flowers right away, of course. She’d rushed to do it, just as she did everything else in life. And now Sofia had Benjamin’s sister on the phone and didn’t quite know what to say. She tried to explain that she and Benjamin had been together without getting into how they had come to break up. It sounded muddled, and she wondered if Vanja understood, because she didn’t say anything for a long time.
‘Well, Benjamin mentioned you. Said he’d met a girl out there on the island. You must be so sad. Just like me.’
‘Yes. I can’t wrap my head around it. But I’d like to meet you and tell you something. I mean, something about Benjamin.’ She could feel the other woman’s hesitation. ‘A little later,’ she hurried to add.
‘Sure, of course we can meet,’ said Vanja. ‘But maybe not right now. With the funeral and everything.’
‘A funeral? Already? But they haven’t even found his body!’
‘No, but they probably never will. It’s better to get it over with. Franz Oswald was here, and he took care of all the costs. He was so kind. Maybe you’d like to come to the funeral?’
‘I would like to, but I think it would be too difficult for me,’ she said, which certainly wasn’t a lie.
‘I understand. Please feel free to call me again sometime.’
She felt ill at ease once they had hung up. Something was missing — there was no hint of sadness from Vanja’s voice. But then again, she and Benjamin hardly ever saw each other. Maybe they hadn’t been close. And how well did she know Benjamin, really. It was like she had never really gotten a grip on him. What had Oswald called him again? Dodger. He had slipped through her fingers and would remain an unsolved mystery forever more.
She felt sad and burdened at the thought that Benjamin would be given a funeral while his body was still far out at sea, being eaten by fish. And now she couldn’t even picture his face — it was like he was being wiped out. There weren’t even any ashes to bury.
She closed her eyes and tried to remember what it had felt like to touch his skin, but all she could recall was his scent.
When she finally went to bed, sleep eluded her. She was haunted by the images of Oswald and Elvira in the attic. And the harder she tried to fall asleep, the clearer the pictures became. She sat up in bed, turned on the light, and took out a notebook.
She began to outline an escape plan. She could always use the plan she and Benjamin had never set into motion, but spending a night in the cottage alone would drive her to madness. And how would she get over the fence without setting off the alarm? Surely Simon would help her. She had to talk to him, to run through everything and get her thoughts in order.
Her phone jangled again.
Mom.
She had to be more careful and silence her ringer when she wasn’t using the phone. The thought of dealing with her mother’s anxiety was so overwhelming that she rejected the call and turned off the phone. She decided to wake up at six, so she could talk to Simon before everyone else woke up.
‘It’s not going to work,’ he said straight away.
‘Why not?’
‘The electric fence doesn’t work that way. It’s not just touching the barbed wire that sets off the alarm. If you jump over, the vibrations when you land will be strong enough to trip it.’
‘How do you know that?’
‘I’ve been snooping around a little, just like you. Farmers need hobbies too, right? Mine has always been electronics.’
‘Then what can I do?’
‘The best solution is probably a power outage. You can simply turn off the main switch. It takes ten minutes for the backup generator to kick in. But there’s always the risk that someone will flip the main switch back again.’
‘That sounds insane. Ten minutes? How far can I run in ten minutes? They’ll come after me on their motorcycles.’
He thought for a moment.
‘Not if you run through the woods. They can’t drive there.’
‘In the middle of the night? I don’t know if I can do it. And what about when I get to the ferry?’
Simon chuckled.
‘One thing at a time. What if I run to the main generator once you’ve turned it off and pretend something’s wrong with it? After all, I do help with the electrical systems sometimes.’
She felt hope rising.
‘Benjamin said you can hide under a tarp where the cars park on the ferry. I’ll just have to lie there until the ferry leaves.’
He nodded and closed his eyes as if he were trying to picture it all before him.
‘Couldn’t you check the weather forecast on your phone? If there’s moonlight it will be easier to find your way through the forest.’
She turned on her phone and found the weather site.
‘This good weather is supposed to last all week.’
‘But there could still be fog in the morning. You have to leave at night before the fog comes in and when the moon is at its brightest.’
‘If there is a moon,’ she said, looking for the phases of the moon on the site. ‘It’s only a half-moon right now. Maybe I should wait a few days.’
‘I think you can do it,’ Simon said.
‘At least it’s the start of a plan.’
‘We should probably both think about it for a while,’ he said, and his hands were suddenly back in the earth.
*
She lugged the large box of plastic sheet protectors across the yard, wondering how long it would take to print out the propositions and insert each page into a sheet.
At least she could think about her escape plan while she was finishing Oswald’s stupid project.
Suddenly she felt that surreal feeling again, in the middle of the yard — this all had to be a dream. It couldn’t be real, everything that had happened in the past week. Those things just didn’t happen in real life. She tripped over a rock and almost dropped the boxes. As she carried them up the stairs to the office, she broke out in a sweat and swore inwardly.
Oswald laughed when he saw her. He waved her in.
‘Damn, are you going to encase every last piece of paper in this office?’
‘No, just the propositions,’ she muttered.
‘Don’t be such a grump, Sofia. It doesn’t suit you. Now get this over with and don’t forget about our little tour of the property — or that I want to talk to the staff tonight.’
She didn’t respond, just lugged the box to her desk.
Her silence provoked him.
‘You know you have two roles when you’re working for me, don’t you?’ he said.
‘No, I didn’t know that.’
‘But it’s true. First there’s your job as my secretary, and in that role you’re extraordinary if I may say so.’
‘Thanks, I’m glad to hear it.’
‘Yes, but then there’s your role as a woman.’
‘Okay . . . what does that entail?’
‘Nothing, of course. You’re simply supposed to keep up with all the twists and turns. Be submissive, I suppose is the right word. I do like that word.’
He laughed, but she knew he wasn’t joking. She fingered the pocketknife she always kept in her blazer pocket these days. A ridiculous defence weapon in case things should get out of control in the office.
‘Oh, Sofia!’ he said. ‘Don’t take everything so fucking seriously.’
She attempted a smile, but it turned out stiff and foolish. Under a cloud of increasing irritation, she tried to focus on her sheet protector task and finished just before evening assembly. She put the plastic pages into a binder, and as soon as she was done he took it from her hands.
‘I’ll take care of the binder. It has to be stored in a very special place. Do you understand why this is so important?’
‘Well, if every computer in the whole world stops working, we’ll still have this.’ He held the binder up triumphantly.
*
Later that evening, when she was finally able to rest her legs after their long, boring tour of the property, her thoughts returned to what he’d said. Why hadn’t he just put the binder in the safe? Then she remembered how he’d asked Benjamin to hide the theses somewhere on the island. She’d never asked Benjamin where he’d put them. That was just one more thing she’d forgotten because something else suddenly seemed so much more important.
A police raid, she thought. That must be what he’s afraid of. He’s so paranoid he thinks the whole state and government are out to steal his nonsense.
It was starting to get late. The sun was setting, painting the whole office red.
‘I’m going to take a little stroll before bed,’ Oswald suddenly said.
He had the binder of propositions under one arm. Never before had she heard him use the word ‘stroll.’ A ride on the motorcycle maybe, but he didn’t seem to care about the nature of the island. And dusk was falling.
As soon as he’d left, she rose to look out the window. He walked across the yard, spoke to the guard, and vanished through the gate.
She was terribly curious and felt an irresistible urge to follow him. What could she say to convince the guard to let her out? He would just call Oswald. Then she caught sight of his phone on the desk. It was like it was waiting there just for her. She stuck it in her pocket and rushed down the stairs.
‘Franz forgot his phone,’ she told Benny, who was sitting in the sentry box. ‘He’s expecting an important call.’
Benny hesitated.
‘I have to call him first.’
‘You can’t, I have his phone.’ She held it up.
Benny muttered but opened the gate for her. She thought about taking advantage of the situation to escape, but it would all go wrong without her backpack, and with such haste. Furthermore, she was far too curious about where Oswald was heading. Darkness was falling and she figured he was already out of sight, but then she caught a glimpse of a figure across the meadow. He was heading for the cliffs.
She hurried to follow him but moved almost silently. She hoped he wouldn’t turn around. But he did, when he reached the precipice, so she ducked behind a tree.
He was climbing down the rocks now, and his silhouette was stark against the sky, which burned orange and red like a crackling spring bonfire. The sun had almost dipped below the horizon. She recognized the spot he was climbing down to, from the time Benjamin had brought her there. Oswald was on his way to the cave. Benjamin’s cave. What the hell was he doing there? How was it all connected? Had Benjamin hidden the theses there? It seemed he had lied to her about it all, and now she didn’t know up from down.
An eternity seemed to pass before Oswald came up again. She thought about running over to surprise him on his way up, at the very spot where it made you dizzy to look down and you had to keep a firm grasp on the boulders. She could shove him so he fell and hit his head on the rocks and ended up in the sea with Benjamin. And then he would go straight to hell, where he belonged. But then his head popped up over the cliff and she could see his long figure striding toward her. She backed into the forest, caught sight of a large boulder, and lay down flat on the ground behind it.
Dew had already settled, and the moisture seeped through her skirt and the front of her blazer. He was close now. She could hear twigs and heather rustling under his feet. Her heart was pounding so hard and so fast that she felt out of breath.
She waited until everything was perfectly silent, then waited a little longer. She stood up and slipped up to the cliff. The sea was still and it was almost fully dark. Trying to remember each footstep Benjamin had taken, she began to climb down. Her eyes searched for and spotted the grassy patch where the cave entrance was. She shuffled down and found herself standing at the opening.
It was dark and damp inside the cave. The scent of Oswald’s aftershave lingered in the cool air. There had to be a hiding spot, there just had to be. She walked around feeling the walls with her hands — a few times over — but she couldn’t find anything. She was about to give up but then she reached higher, made one more turn, and found a large hole between the rocks.
She stuck one hand in and it was almost sucked into the void. At first all she felt were the spines of two binders: the propositions and the theses, of course. But when she reached farther, her hand hit something hard. A small box. She got a grip on it and pulled it out.
It was a tin. She opened it, and all she had to do was touch what was inside, because she held a similar instrument in her hands each day. A tape recorder. The type Oswald used for his dictation.
She thought he must have a good reason for hiding it there, because he certainly didn’t climb around the cliffs on a daily basis.
She closed the tin and stuck it in her pocket but left the binders where they were. After all, she could probably rattle off the goddamn theses and propositions by heart.
On her way back up, her body began to tremble and she stumbled a few times but made it to the top unscathed. She knew she looked a mess. A run in her stockings, already considerable, was only getting bigger. Her blazer and skirt were damp and must have been stained by the moss.
Now that darkness had fallen, the moon was up, peeking through the thin clouds now and then. She ran home, sending up a silent prayer that Oswald hadn’t asked after her.
Benny shot her a look of bewilderment when she reached the gate.
‘I went looking, but I couldn’t find him.’
‘He’s back.’
‘Did he ask about me?’
Benny shook his head and opened the gate. His eyes betrayed his guilty conscience over letting her out.
Oswald’s phone and the little tin rattled in her pocket as she ran across the yard. She knew she had to put the phone back quickly, before he had time to miss it, but not while she looked like she had been fighting a bear in the forest.
There was no clean blazer in her dormitory, only an extra skirt, so she dried her wet blazer with a towel and put on the fresh skirt and new nylons.
Anna came in just as Sofia was on her way out.
‘You’ve certainly been going to bed early in recent days,’ Sofia said as she rushed past her.
The office was empty, so she put the phone on his desk. Her hand brushed the tin box in her pocket. She opened his desk drawer and found the other recorder, the one he used each day. So this was a different one. Curiosity overwhelmed her — she wanted to listen to the recording, but it would have to wait. She would put it in the backpack under her bed with everything else she could collect before her escape.
It was almost eleven o’clock and she didn’t think Oswald would return, so she turned off the computers and the lights and was just about to lock the doors when she heard footsteps in the corridor. He was heading for her at a terrific speed, obviously furious.
‘Where have you been?’
‘Sir, I’ve been looking everywhere for you. You forgot your phone, and I thought you would want it. I’ve been running around like crazy.’
‘Why don’t you have your pager on you?’
She patted her pocket.
‘Oh no, I guess I forgot it . . .’
‘Next time send a fucking message to my pager! Now I’ve been running around trying to find my goddamn phone. Don’t you have a single brain cell left?’
‘I’m sorry. I’ll do that next time.’
‘You’re such a stupid bimbo sometimes,’ he said, ripping the phone from her hand.
‘I’m sorry . . .’
Her voice faded; he was already gone.
She wondered how much time she really had.
‘So your name is Franz Oswald von Bärensten?’
I look down at the tape recorder and then up at his stern face.
‘Yes, but my parents called me Fredrik.’
I squeeze out a few tears.
‘Strange nickname for Franz,’ he says.
‘It sounds more Swedish. We’re from Sweden.’
He looks at me in concern, then drops the bomb.
‘We have received the results of the investigation. It seems that your sister set the fire. She tried to get out once it was burning, but apparently the door was jammed. She died of smoke inhalation.’
‘There’s no way! That’s absolutely impossible!’
‘What makes you say that?’
‘Sara wouldn’t harm a fly!’
He must have asked where I was and what I saw at least a dozen times.
There are no holes in my story. It all matches up.
I get a kick out of lying to his face. It proves how easy it is to fool the authorities.
‘Were there any problems between Sara and your parents?’
‘No . . . I wouldn’t say that. But Sara might have been a little misunderstood.’
With that, he’s all ears.
‘Oh? How so?’
‘She was a little different, a little strange, and my parents couldn’t always figure her out.’
‘So she might have nursed a grudge against them because of it?’
I pretend to think for a long time, and he clears his throat to urge me to go on.
‘It’s possible,’ I say. ‘But Jesus, this is terrible!’
Now he looks pompous and self-satisfied. A complete idiot, like all cops.
‘But now that you mention it,’ I continue, ‘there was that fire in the neighbours’ chicken coop. Our closest neighbours weren’t far, and there was a fire, and it was definitely arson. But we never would have suspected Sara . . .’
He nods eagerly, inviting me to keep talking with his sweaty little chin.
I don’t say anything for a moment and pretend to be battling with my own thoughts.
‘And there was that incident at school. Someone accused Sara of a knife attack. It sounded ridiculous then, but now that I think about it . . . this can’t be true!’
I bury my head in my arms against his desk and let my back tremble a little.
It ends perfectly.
He shakes my hand and expresses his condolences, saying that I should seek help from a psychologist. That it’s the best way to get over the shock and loss.
‘Yes, I suppose I’d better,’ I say.
I’m smirking on the inside.