Lumskebugten, the Esplanade’s most fashionable restaurant, was fully booked as always, and Holger had had to get a friend at Maersk to get a table. As a next-door neighbour, the headquarters of one of the world’s largest container shipping lines and vessel operators was the restaurant’s most valued customer. Holger was already waiting when Lars Danielson arrived at a table in the farthest corner from the entrance. Approvingly, he noted the table’s position, which would allow them to speak undisturbed and without risking someone overhearing their conversation.
After a couple of courtesies, they sat silently for a long while as they studied the menu. Holger was chiefly preoccupied with his earnest appetite, while for Lars Danielson the menu was just a necessary prop. To him, the dinner was merely a setting. Once the waiter had taken their orders, Holger looked out of the window. The beautiful, white building of the former Nautical Charts Archive complimented the restaurant’s serenity perfectly. When Holger felt ready to kick off the meeting, he looked instinctively over his shoulder to ensure the waiter and anyone else with big ears was out of range.210
‘All right, out with it. What is it exactly that you want from me?’ Holger said softly.
‘I take it that you’ve taken some time to acquaint yourself with the Kaare Strand affair. It’s already known in too many circles, and something tells me it’ll be leaked to the press in the next couple of days. Parliament is inundated with journalists covering the election, and everyone in government is eager to get airtime before the electorate goes to the polls.’
Lars Danielson stopped abruptly as the waiter approached their table with the wine that Holger had ordered. Holger should have taken note of the pause but instead, as the waiter presented the wine, he studied the label on the Beaune-Troussants Premier Cru meticulously to make sure it was the 1999 vintage – and also because he wanted to savour the anticipation. He nodded at the waiter with a tight-lipped smile, signalling he could pour a taster into his glass. Holger sank his nose deep into the glass, shut his eyes and let the bouquet find its way into his nostrils. He swirled the wine around in the glass before sipping the ruby-red liquid, then he rolled it in his mouth before letting the wine slip down his throat.
‘You can never go wrong with Albert Morot,’ he said, smiling.
The waiter understood the reference to the Burgundy producer and poured wine into their glasses before leaving the table.
‘Have you got a Russian visa?’ Danielson whispered, making the question sound as if he were commenting upon the wine.
‘Yes, I have a deal with the embassy that I get a year at a time. I’ve told you of my business trips already,’ Holger replied, slightly offended that he was not being given ample time to enjoy his choice of wine.211
‘Would you like to use it?’
‘I don’t get it,’ Holger said, trying to hide his irritation with Lars Danielson’s lack of appreciation of the valuable liquid in the glass before him.
‘You don’t know how pathetic it is. Neither the CHOD nor the government dares do anything. But I’m having none of it. Someone has to do something before Kaare ends up as a statistic – just another dead hostage. No one else is privy to this conversation, just so you know. They are all terrified. Paralysed,’ Lars Danielson continued, his eyes glowing with the satisfaction of finally getting Holger’s undivided attention.
‘Are you telling me they’re going to do bugger all?’
Holger was shocked and unconsciously started to swirl the wine in his glass by making small circles on the tablecloth with the foot of the glass.
‘Correct. That’s why I asked you to come. I can’t offer you anything. As you might remember, we have a bank account. One that the national audit agency hasn’t got their eyes on, but I’d prefer not to use it. Especially as Brogaard hasn’t approved this. Our conversation, I mean,’ Lars Danielson replied and nodded gravely to the waiter as he arrived with their food.
They sat silently as their plates were arranged in front of them; Holger’s mind was racing to work out the consequences of what he had just heard. The man opposite him was not there in any official capacity. He was simply an employee of FE who had a misguided excitement over the fact that he could initiate actions way beyond the powers imagined by politicians. Regardless of his motive, an intelligence officer who was also a fantasist was a dangerous cocktail. All Holger’s instincts told him to stop now before things went too 212far. But no matter how much his mind told him it was sheer madness, the prospect only intrigued him further.
‘And what do you want me to do in all of this?’ Holger heard himself saying as if he was just a spectator.
‘Find Kaare Strand,’ Lars Danielson said and tried to look at him straight without batting an eyelid.
Holger returned Danielson’s stare as he calmly cut a piece of guinea fowl breast on his plate before answering:
‘Oh, is that all – and right now, is it?’
Danielson said nothing.
‘You can’t be serious! If you are, then you’re insane,’ Holger continued, letting the words hang in the air as he dug into his guinea fowl.
Lars Danielson demonstratively put his cutlery down and once again caught his eye.
‘I see more Holger than Holger the Dane in you. You just want to stay in hibernation and have no appetite for taking responsibility for things. Holger the Dane would have awoken in the face of such peril for old Denmark.’
Lars Danielson held Holger’s gaze as if in a particularly testing round of poker, and it seemed an eternity to Holger before he finally forced himself to look down.
‘That’s below the belt. Even if I could find Kaare Strand, what would I do then, rescue him from some militant lunatics? Single-handedly. With no support from anyone except for a daydreaming FE guy who risks his fat job just by sitting here and suggesting something as crazy as this?’ Holger snarled and threw back the remaining Burgundy in his glass.
‘Yes.’213
The answer came back like the crack of a breaking branch. Holger felt as if he was trapped in an American B-movie where a lone individual is up against a corrupt system but is trying to see to it that justice is done. Holger had always subscribed to values that could be boiled down to King and Country – how often had he said he had the Danish flag tattooed in his heart? This man’s anger over the impotence of the system and what he saw as the politician’s lack of will to support the military was understandable. But the naivety and arrogance of the proposed venture was shocking in its stupidity; all at once, Holger’s fantasies of secret missions disappeared. As leaves in an autumn storm.
‘You’re far out. If you ever need a lawyer, you can call me from jail,’ said Holger ardently.
Holger slowly finished his glass, put the napkin on the table as a sign that he was leaving and pushed his chair back. Lars Danielson just looked calmly at him.
‘Best of luck with the law firm. I’m sure there are plenty more tax evaders to defend. What a great life you’re living. I only hope you have peace of mind when you turn out the lights at night.’
Holger glared angrily at Lars Danielson for a long second. He had no doubt that the man across the table seriously meant every word he had said. Lars Danielson did not let Holger’s anger affect him but continued to eat as if everything was fine.
‘It’s you that’s got a problem, not me!’ Holger said bitterly, turned on his heel and made a beeline for the exit.
The evening wind on his face instilled a sense of relief. He had felt increasingly suffocated by the conversation in the restaurant. Lars Danielson’s proposition was not only outlandish, it was hazardous. Holger, however, couldn’t deny that the underlying 214motives hit home with him: Holger was also furious. He needed to stabilise his blood pressure and decided to take advantage of the summer evening by walking along the harbour. Holger stopped for a moment by the berth of the Royal Shallop. The gold-plated crowns on the pavilions shimmered in the dark, and he let his gaze scan the old Masting Crane and warships in the naval shipyard at Holmen on the other side of the harbour. For the first time in many years, his thoughts took him back to his high school days at Lyngby State School and his English teacher, Erik. The school had been rich in tradition and strong on conservative ideas; it had played a big part in forming him, in his teenage years. With just three hundred pupils, it had been like a small world of its own. Erik had also coached the school’s football team, and the boys had eaten out of his hand. Holger remembered how they had spoken of ‘man stuff’ in the changing rooms after football. It was here that Holger first heard of life as a soldier, and it sounded exciting. So intensely exciting that he had decided to volunteer for enrolment during the sixth form. Hadn’t it been precisely the principles of King and Country that had been the guiding star in that? The belief in justice and the will to make a difference. Physically and tangibly. How much simpler everything had been back then. He headed down towards the illuminated windows of the Langelinie Pavilion and smiled at the young couple sat, in love, on a bench. Was it not the very essence of our democracy that we must fight for our values, even when those who should be doing it are not? Fight for everything we love; die if we must. Then life is not so hard. And neither is death, as the old song goes. No wonder the song united Danes during the German occupation in the Second World War. He pulled his jacket collar tight around his ears. The personal risk 215couldn’t be allowed to be a limiting factor. That had to be right. But to rescue Kaare Strand was insane and completely out of the question. Suddenly, he felt chilled to the bone by the evening that had crept up on him.