‘Ébano confessed to everything,’ Tim said to Søren and Marie, ‘and then he asked me if I could forgive him.’
‘And could you?’ Søren asked.
Tim smiled a pale smile.
‘“If your brother sins, rebuke him; and if he repents, forgive him,”’ he said wearily. ‘The Gospel according to Luke. Our mother was a deeply religious woman. When Ébano had obtained my forgiveness, he grabbed his passport and did a runner. I haven’t seen him since.’
‘Who is Pedro?’ Søren asked.
‘I’m convinced it’s Peter Bennett, a Nobel Prize winner and scientist who researches into vaccine constituents. Pedro is Peter in Creole,’ Marie said. ‘He left the board of Sixan Pharmaceuticals in February 2009, a few months before he joined the WHO’s Emergency Committee, which was forced to sack two thirds of its members soon afterwards when it emerged that their relationship with the pharmaceutical industry was very far from disinterested. At the time Bennett did actually appear to be a good guy as he was one of the few scientists not to profit from the pandemic warning. But the truth was he was just twice as devious. By ensuring that Ébano officially took over his seat on Sixan’s board, he could keep his position on the WHO’s Emergency Committee without being suspected of corruption.’
Søren cleared his throat. ‘Pardon me for asking, but what does that have to do with Kristian Storm?’ he said.
‘Sixan Pharmaceuticals is one of the world’s biggest producers of aluminium hydroxide,’ Marie explained. ‘It’s a constituent added to vaccines to heighten their antibody response. Whether it actually does or not is another matter. Nevertheless, that’s Bennett’s area of research.’
‘But . . .’ Søren said.
‘Two thirds of the international pharmaceutical industry’s aluminium hydroxide production goes to vaccines, including the DTP vaccine,’ Tim said. ‘And the DTP vaccine is given to more than a hundred million children a year. We’re talking about a business worth billions.’
The police officer suddenly looked as if the penny had dropped. ‘So Peter Bennett made a fortune out of the DTP vaccine,’ he said.
‘No,’ Marie corrected him. ‘Bennett and Sixan Pharmaceuticals made a fortune out of producing aluminium hydroxide, but given that vaccines are the biggest users of aluminium hydroxide in the world, it’s in both Bennett’s and Sixan’s interest to preserve the status of all vaccines as the cash cow of medicine. Any negative re-evaluation would mean losses running into millions. That was why Bennett joined the WHO’s Pandemic Emergency Committee. He needed to get close to the very people who ultimately held the purse strings. And he needed to silence Storm, who persisted in blowing the whistle.’
‘And he succeeded,’ Tim said in agony.
There was deep silence in the kitchen.
‘It’s so callous that I struggle to believe it,’ Marie said.
*
When Tim had repeated his explanation at Bellahøj Police Station, and Marie had contributed any information she could, she and Tim said goodbye to Søren Marhauge and walked down Frederikssundsvej holding hands. It was close to midnight and they were shivering. Even so, Marie unbuttoned her jacket and let in the cold air. They did not say a word to each other until they reached the corner of Tagensvej and Jagtvej and the university came into view.
Tim stopped and cupped Marie’s face with his hands. ‘I’ll never forget you,’ he said. ‘You will always be my friend.’
‘Likewise,’ Marie said.
Tim took a deep breath. ‘I let Ébano go,’ he confessed.
‘That’s what I thought,’ Marie said.
A group of cyclists passed them and wolf-whistled.
‘I loved Storm,’ Tim whispered, ‘but I couldn’t sacrifice my brother. I bought him a ticket home and I put him on the plane. They can close every border, they can look for him all over Europe, but they won’t find him. He’s already in Bissau. I’m not asking you to understand, Marie, but I couldn’t let him down.’
‘OK,’ was all Marie said.
‘I’ll be leaving tomorrow morning,’ Tim continued.
‘Tomorrow morning? But what about the article? And, besides, Søren Marhauge said that—’
‘Søren Marhauge will be fine without me,’ Tim said. ‘And so will you. Send me the article on Sunday and I’ll give you my comments, though I doubt I’ll have any. Storm always said you’re a perfectionist.’
‘But . . .’ Marie fell silent.
‘The most important thing right now is the Belem Health Project. Storm had started investigating the different effects of vaccines on each sex and found evidence that the negative effect was gender dependent. More girls than boys die from side effects. I need to start writing a paper about that as soon as possible.’
‘But what about our article?’ Marie said. ‘And Storm’s?’
‘No, Marie. It’s your article. When you turn eighty and are awarded a Nobel Prize, think of me. That’s all I ask.’
The tears started rolling down Marie’s cheeks. ‘It sounds almost as if you’re saying goodbye.’
‘I’m saying see you later, Andurinha,’ he said, and kissed her. ‘Visit me in Bissau and we’ll go dancing.’
‘I don’t think I could—’
‘You’ll never see Ébano, Marie. I promise.’
*
When Marie let herself into her flat, she stood for a moment in the darkness and listened. The water pipe groaned, but apart from that it was quiet. She took a shower and made herself a cup of herbal tea. Then she climbed into bed. Suddenly she was sobbing. She could breathe without any difficulty so she knew she wasn’t having a panic attack. She lay under her duvet, alone in her flat, crying until she had no more tears left. She had almost fallen asleep when her mobile rang. It was Jesper.
‘Jesper?’ Marie was alarmed. It was almost one thirty a.m.
‘Hello, Marie,’ he said.
Marie told herself she could hear the sea in the background. ‘Is everything all right?’
‘Yes, yes. Anton has eaten his own bodyweight in Easter eggs and all the kids fell asleep five minutes into the movie they’d been pestering us to be allowed to watch. Only I couldn’t sleep.’
‘What’s up?’
‘The police came to see me today. At the hospital. Superintendent Søren Marhauge. He wanted to talk to me about your mother’s blood analysis.’
‘Mum’s blood analysis?’
‘That’s what forensic examiners call a blood sample they send to the Department of Forensic Genetics if they suspect something is amiss.’
‘Right. So what does that mean?’
‘They have found a substance in their analysis and they don’t understand where it could have come from. An anaesthetic called propofol. I use it every day in surgery. What they don’t understand is how it could have ended up in your mother’s blood, and neither do I. It’s used only in patients who have been admitted to hospital. But your mother hadn’t been in hospital recently, had she?’
‘No, I don’t think so.’
‘I get the impression that the police are investigating it.’
‘But don’t you think there’s bound to be some perfectly logical explanation?’ Marie said.
‘I struggle to see what it could be,’ Jesper said. ‘I think now would be a very good time for Frank to tell us if Joan had been in hospital. A private clinic perhaps? And why? He’s already in a very delicate situation and I think the police are trying to dig up as much dirt as possible, so if there is anything . . . anything at all they’re ashamed of . . . Well, perhaps you should try talking to your dad about it. But . . . there was something else I wanted to tell you.’
‘What is it?’
‘Emily and I didn’t work out. We had a row. Anton and I have been staying with Frans, a colleague from the ward, until it’s safe for us to return to Ingeborgvej. Emily didn’t come with us to West Jutland, either. It’s over.’
‘OK,’ Marie said quietly.
‘Is that all you have to say?’ Jesper said. ‘Are you in love with that other guy, is that it?’
‘I’m very fond of Tim,’ Marie said. ‘I’m not in love with him.’
Jesper sighed. ‘Please would you give me another chance? I know it’s insane, but I haven’t been able to sleep properly since I found out about you and . . . Tim. That has to count for something, doesn’t it? I spoke to my brother about it and he agrees with me.’
‘Agrees with you about what?’
‘Lars says I’ve been a fool and that I should have been able to handle you being so ill.’
‘Jesper,’ Marie said gently, ‘I have to get some sleep now. It’s been a long day and . . . to tell you the truth, I don’t want to give you another chance.’
‘So you are in love!’ Jesper burst out.
‘It has nothing to do with anyone else, Jesper. It’s about us. I like being who I am. A one-breasted biology nerd. Who is at least as ambitious as a man. And I don’t think you know how to love someone like that.’
‘But I love well-educated, ambitious women,’ Jesper said, sounding astonished. ‘You already know that.’
‘In theory, yes. But in real life?’
‘I don’t understand you, Marie,’ Jesper said.
‘Precisely,’ Marie said, with a smile. ‘Good night, Jesper.’
*
On Saturday morning Marie stayed in bed when she woke up. She touched first her healthy breast and then her flat chest where the sick breast had been. The scarring was still a little swollen. Jesper would definitely have wanted her to have breast-reconstruction surgery immediately. But if she chose to do that, it would be because she wanted it and not because Jesper couldn’t bear to look at her.
It was hard not to feel a tiny bit flattered at Jesper’s pathetic attempt to give their relationship another shot. But it was also hilarious. Jesper in his rigid mind-set had come to the conclusion that their relationship could be made to work. Once upon a time she had been attracted to his dominance. That was a long while ago.
Marie got up, made tea and ate some muesli. Then she took her laptop and returned to bed. Tim’s plane had taken off several hours ago and would soon land in Bissau and, if she knew him right, he would start planning work for the future first thing the following morning. Storm could not have wished for a better successor.
She was about to email him when she noticed an email from Søren Marhauge. It appeared to have been sent at three thirty a.m. She opened it and read it three times.
Søren wrote that her brother, Mads, had not died from meningitis when he was three years old. He had died in an accident in their garden at Snerlevej.
A shocked Marie rang Lea immediately.
*
Julie and Michael were already at Snerlevej when Marie arrived. Julie opened the door, wearing an apron and sporting a new hairstyle that seemed to have involved curlers at some point. Marie gave her a hug. Emma and Camilla were watching television in the living room.
‘Where are Dad and Michael?’ Marie asked, and Julie pointed to the garden.
‘They’re fixing a hole in the roof,’ she said, ‘so hopefully the first floor won’t be flooded before Easter is over.’
The table had already been laid, but was one setting short.
‘I’ve taken care of everything,’ Julie said happily. ‘I made the bacon quiche and fried the meatballs yesterday, so they only need serving. And I’ve bought Easter eggs for everyone. What a shame that Jesper and Anton aren’t with you. Couldn’t they have gone to that cottage some other time? It seems all wrong that they’re not here, don’t you think?’
‘Julie, Jesper and I are no longer together, so why did you invite him?’
Julie gave Marie a knowing look. ‘Oh, so he hasn’t said anything yet? Well, I’d better not say anything but, Marissen, you’ll be ever so happy!’
‘If you’re hinting that he wants to give our marriage another chance, then he’s already told me.’
Julie beamed with joy. ‘Isn’t it wonderful?’ she said. ‘I was so thrilled when he called yesterday to tell me he realised what a big mistake he’d made.’
‘He called me last night, Julie,’ Marie said. ‘But I said no.’
‘You said no?’
‘I’m in love with someone else,’ Marie said, ‘and, besides, Jesper and I were never happy together.’
‘But that’s not true.’ Julie was outraged. ‘You’ve always been the perfect couple. The two of you . . . Who are you in love with?’
The doorbell rang.
Julie went to answer it. Seconds later she stalked through the living room and slammed the kitchen door shut behind her.
Lea entered the living room with red eyes. She wore tight leather trousers, high-heeled platform boots and a fairly transparent top. Her eyes were heavily made up, as usual, but she had removed the piercings.
Marie gave her a hug. ‘Are you OK?’
‘Not really,’ she said, and the tears welled in her eyes again. ‘I can’t stop crying. But what’s wrong with Julie? Didn’t she know I was coming?’
At that moment, Michael appeared in the door to the garden. ‘What’s she doing here?’ he said. ‘Where’s Julie?’
‘Hello, Michael, you handsome beast.’ Lea put on a brave face. ‘And hello, Dad.’
Frank had appeared behind Michael, and Marie could see that he was already drunk. He balanced on the threshold and stumbled back out into the garden. It was not until Michael had gone to join Julie in the kitchen that Frank recovered his footing and came into the living room. Marie had never heard Lea call Frank ‘Dad’ before.
‘Hello, Marizzen; hello, Loopy-Lou, sweetie,’ he said, and kissed them both on the cheek. ‘What would the ladies like to drink? I have a fine Barolo.’
‘Why didn’t you tell Julie you’d invited me?’ Lea asked.
‘Ah,’ Frank said, handing them each a glass of wine. ‘Didn’t I? It must have slipped my mind.’
Julie and Michael came into the living room.
‘I’m sorry, Dad, but we’re leaving,’ Julie announced.
‘Eh?’ Frank said. He was busy pouring red wine into his own glass.
‘Yes, it’s her or us,’ Julie said. ‘You have to choose.’
‘Well, then, happy Easter, everyone,’ Lea said. ‘Cheers.’
‘Dad?’ Julie said.
‘But how can I—’ Frank knocked over his glass, which broke, spilling wine across the sideboard.
Julie looked irritated, then summoned Emma and Camilla. They were watching one of Joan’s old movies and didn’t want to put on their coats.
‘Come on,’ Julie hissed. The girls got up reluctantly and went to the hallway.
‘Wait,’ Lea said. ‘I’ll leave.’ Lea placed her glass on the dining table and looked at Marie. ‘I should never have come.’
Frank was now drinking directly from the bottle. ‘Oh, come on, girls,’ he said. ‘How about some Easter peace?’
And then Marie let out a roar. A strange, guttural sound, which made the whole gathering stare at her in shock. She roared on her entire exhalation. Total silence ensued. Marie filled her lungs with air again.
‘Dad,’ she said. ‘I’ve received an email from the police stating that Mads didn’t die from meningitis but in an accident in the garden. In the shed. The police say he died instantly and that Julie witnessed it. Is that right?’
Julie gasped and Marie’s legs threatened to buckle under her.
‘Bullshit—’ Michael began.
‘Be quiet, Michael,’ Marie said, looking only at her father. ‘Is that right, Dad?’
Frank put the bottle to his lips and emptied it in three large gulps. ‘The police are lying,’ he said, glancing at Julie.
‘The police are lying?’ Marie said. ‘The original police report from the twenty-seventh of June 1986 is a lie?’
Frank glanced at Julie again and Marie looked at her elder sister. All the blood had drained from Julie’s face and her mouth was a grey line. Then she exploded and threw Lea hard against the wall. ‘You spoiled brat,’ she screamed. ‘This is all your fault. Why do you think I’ve kept it secret all these years? To protect you. So that no one would know you’re a killer. I had to look after all of you the whole time. I was only gone for five minutes but, oh, no, you couldn’t behave for just five minutes and Dad, well, he was asleep as usual. You killed our brother.’ She pointed at Lea.
Julie marched to the hall and nearly knocked Michael over in the doorway. She turned to Frank. ‘I’ll never forgive you for this, Dad,’ she then said.
Michael quickly followed Julie.
‘Aren’t we going to say goodbye to Grandad and Aunt Marie?’ they heard Camilla ask.
‘Not today, darling,’ Julie said. The front door slammed.
Lea was leaning up against the wall. Marie walked up to her and flung her arms around her.
‘Is that true?’ Lea said. ‘Oh, God, please tell me it’s not true.’
‘We can’t possibly know, Lea,’ Marie said, to comfort her. ‘You know what Julie’s like when she’s angry. But, Lea, love, you’re shaking all over.’
They heard the sound of a cork being pulled out of a bottle and Frank drinking straight from it. ‘Julie’s telling the truth,’ he said. ‘Only I wasn’t asleep. My engineering studies were going down the drain, while your mum was more productive than ever. She wove one gloomy tapestry after another. But we needed her to make pretty things I could sell. We had a huge row about it. Your mum called me a loser who didn’t know anything about art. Afterwards, I drank a beer to calm myself and then another. Finally, I went to lie down on a sun lounger in the garden. My plan was to revise for my exams. But I wasn’t asleep. I heard Lea say that she wanted her dolly, which Julie had put on the shelving unit in the shed. I heard Julie say that Lea had to say sorry first. I heard the telephone ring inside the house. I heard Mads say, “Don’t go in the shed, Lea. Please come out,” and I heard Marie say, “I’m going to get Julie now.” I’d told you kids a hundred times not to go into that shed! Suddenly there was a huge crash and I jumped up. Marie had fetched Julie and she was standing in the doorway to the shed. Then she screamed.’ Frank clutched his head. ‘Lea had managed to open the door to the shed and climb up on the workbench. How she did it, I’ve no idea. Julie had put her doll on the top shelf because Lea had been naughty. But there was no stopping Lea. She stood on the workbench clutching her doll and the shelving unit had toppled and was wedged against the opposite wall . . . The toolbox had slipped down and hit Mads. It was too late.’ Frank broke down.
The tears trickled down Marie’s cheeks and Lea was now shaking so violently that Marie struggled to hold her. ‘Why didn’t you ever say something, Dad?’ Marie sobbed. ‘This is insane.’
For a moment, Frank stared vacantly into the air. ‘We had to move on, Marie. Three small children and a mother who was already mentally unstable. I burned that shed to the ground. I removed everything that could remind your mum of Mads. She destroyed all the photos herself. We all started to feel better when we decided to forget about the accident . . . Julie was fantastic. She took care of everything. Even in those days, she organised your mum’s pills and—’
‘You let your eleven-year-old daughter organise Mum’s pills?’
Frank looked down. ‘Julie was better at it than I was.’
‘Yes,’ Marie said. ‘She was forced to be, wasn’t she? But, Christ, Dad, she was a child.’
‘Julie loved looking after her mum. She was good at calming her down,’ Frank slurred.
‘What happened the day Mum died?’ Marie asked.
‘The tapestry wall-hanging . . . The one you couldn’t find . . . Your mum found it in my office and went crazy. I must have told her that I sold it to Helsingør Town Hall for four thousand kroner. I don’t remember anything about that, but it’s probably true. So as to not upset her, you see . . . Of course no one ever bloody bought it!’ Frank was now so drunk that he struggled to speak. ‘I didn’t want to listen to her any more, so I went into town. The next day she was dead.’ He collapsed on a chair and slumped over the table.
For a long time no one said a word.
‘I can understand if you hate me,’ Lea said to Marie at last.
‘I don’t hate you,’ she whispered. ‘That shed should have been locked. Julie should not have been in charge of three young children. Dad should have roused himself from his drunken stupor. It’s not your fault.’
They sat on the floor, listening to Frank snore. Then Marie got up. ‘I’m really worried about Julie,’ she said.
‘I’ve always believed that Julie hated me and was punishing me for something,’ Lea said into space. ‘But she was protecting me all along.’