‘Hello, Carsten, how’s the media business?’
‘Not bad. It helps that you politicians give us plenty to write about,’ Josefsen replied politely, trying not to reveal his surprise at the Prime Minister’s call.
‘We all do what we can to keep the wheels turning. It’s a shame that we haven’t spent more time together. Since we left Herlufsholm, I mean,’ laughed the Prime Minister unconvincingly.
He’s up to something, thought Josefsen and the friendly tone made his hair stand on end. This is anything but a social call.
‘Those were good times – although, as a prefect, I probably gave you a hard time those first couple of years at boarding school.’
Josefsen didn’t reply – he simply waited for the Prime Minister to reveal the true purpose of his call.
‘As Old Herlovians, we have something in common. A bond that ties us together. Makes us special,’ said the Prime Minister.
The silence was deafening, and Josefsen bid his tongue not to reply. A growing, unpleasant feeling was swelling inside him. He could feel that what was about to come would not be to his liking.
‘We promised to stand by each other. To always help each other. 409Surely, you remember that. Us against the rest of the world. That was what we promised each other back then.’
‘I remember that,’ replied Josefsen hesitantly.
‘Splendid. I just so happen that I now need your help with something. Right now, in the middle of the electoral campaign. Quite reasonably so, I believe you’ll agree. And that’s why I ask for your assistance,’ the Prime Minister continued swiftly.
Josefsen again felt his hairs stand on end, but inexplicable submissiveness prevented him from hanging up.
‘Bundgaard.’
‘Yes, what about Bundgaard?’ Josefsen answered and felt an unpleasant, tight feeling in his stomach.
‘I understand that he is interested in Ulla Strand. Remarkably so of late.’
‘I’m not abreast with everything,’ Josefsen ventured evasively but could hear that it sounded hollow.
‘No, of course not. She is married to the kidnapped Jaeger. That’s why I’m calling. He is sniffing around something, which is unfortunate,’ the Prime Minister said, with sugar-coating.
‘What do you mean?’
‘National security. Well, I won’t cry you a river about all that. A very complicated situation. We’re trying to resolve the matter in the best interest of the Jaeger. You understand that I neither can nor will address this situation in the middle of the election campaign. Don’t you?’
‘Are you saying his journalistic work is a threat to national security? You’re not asking me to put a stop to a legal, journalistic endeavour, are you?’ Josefsen replied, his voice thick with indignation.410
‘Easy, now. There’s no reason to get all worked up. I’m just trying to convey that the journalistic focus should be on the election campaign. I won’t tell you that this Bundgaard should pick a more appropriate subject matter. I’m giving you information off the record, simply letting you know my opinion. But is it too much to ask that you, as an Old Herlovian, listen to me?’
‘Couldn’t you just clarify whether you want me to put a stop to his work?’ Josefsen replied pointedly.
‘You make it sound so drastic. I believe that Dagbladet would be best off by having him redirect his considerable journalistic talent towards the electoral campaign. I could, to that end, give him an exclusive interview.’
‘I don’t believe what I’m hearing. You’re asking me to prevent one of my best journalists from doing his legitimate job. And on top of that, in a matter where Denmark is entitled to know the truth.’
‘There’s no need to get all worked up over this. As an Old Herlovian and one of my disciples, I thought you, of all people, would listen to sense. Back then, I looked out for you when that was needed.’
‘Herlufsholm! That’s hypocritical. I’m not going to curtail journalistic freedom. It’s outrageous coming from you, particularly as you like to portray yourself as a guardian of free speech,’ he snarled.
‘Have you completely forgotten about squealing like a pig?’ replied the Prime Minister like an adder attacking a pair of legs.
Thoughts jolted Josefsen back to Herlufsholm as the blood froze in his veins. Instantly, he became dizzy. He had suppressed this painful part of his youth. Almost convinced himself that it had never happened.411
‘Squeal… like a pig,’ he stammered in a futile attempt to buy time.
‘Yes, you remember that, don’t you? Nicknames are silly. It was a most unfortunate episode. Nikolaj, was his name? You haven’t forgotten that I protected you during the rest of your time at school as a prefect should. Have you forgotten that?’
Josefsen’s eyes darkened, and like a battered, old Super 8 film, he suddenly saw himself in flashes. Lying on the gravel. The boys had encircled him in a ring. Their sadistic smiles were contorted by the pale rays of moonlight. It made their faces look like terrifying masks. He was utterly helpless. Suddenly, the blade of a small penknife glinted in the moonlight. It had been damned light that evening. Two boys held his arms while a third slashed his belt off. Goddammit! How had he managed to be lured down to the park? He lay fully exposed. The images flickered, and he tried to close his eyes, but they would not go away.
‘As far as I recall, it was something to do with another boy at school. He was later expelled for his homosexual tendencies. We both know about your relationship with him. It was you taking him from behind. And you got caught in the act in the park. We both remember that night. And I covered for you; you do remember that too, don’t you?’
Josefsen was not able to utter a word. It was as if his throat was knotted like a tangled dishcloth.
‘It was me who talked with the headmaster. Nikolaj’s homosexual habits didn’t go down well. Do you remember how he cried when he was expelled? Poor boy – a pretty thing too. Maybe you were feeling a little bitter, but you managed to continue. With my help.’412
Josefsen was not listening anymore. He only heard a loud static noise in his ears, and he had to sit down and loosen the tie.
‘I, err, but, oh god! You’re not thinking about dredging up that story now, are you?’
‘At least your board of directors are not aware of that story. Especially, since you haven’t come out of the closet yet. But is it really possible to keep something like that under wraps for ever?’ the Prime Minister continued, undeterred.
‘You can’t do this… You just can’t do this to me!’
‘We Old Herlovians must stand together. I’ve said it all along, haven’t I?’
‘What do you want me to do?’ sighed Josefsen, despairingly.
‘Do? I possibly can’t ask you to do anything. But perhaps you could put some perspective on your definition of freedom of speech. Realise that, as a servant of the truth, some stories must be prioritised over others. After all, the day has only twenty-four hours, right?’
Josefsen let out a loud sigh but could not speak a word.
‘The two of us have no interest in others being in the know of our little secret. Once Bundgaard starts focusing on the election campaign, he is more than welcome to call my secretary; she will schedule an exclusive interview with me. Does that sound like a plan?’