Part 3 (2/2)
Silence.
Iben! Its a job. Its the job of your dreams!
By lunchtime Paul still hasnt come back. Iben, Malene, Camilla, and Anne-Lise lunch together on a fresh rye loaf from the baker, two different cheeses, and low-fat liver pate Camillas special. No different from so many other days.
Camilla is slightly overweight, but not so plump that she needs to wear the long, floppy tops she likes to hide beneath. Both she and Anne-Lise are hovering around forty years of age. It makes them older than Iben and Malene by only ten years or so, but there is a marked generation gap. Camilla and Anne-Lise seldom stay in town to go out. They live quietly in the suburbs with their respective husbands and children. Things like new films or music hardly matter to them.
Camilla is talking about how much shes saving by going to the dentist in Sweden. And if you take into account that Finn is going there too, we saved more than three thousand kroner last year. Camilla has developed her telephone voice over many years of secretarial work, and everyone comments on its cheerfulness, unexpected in an office dedicated to human tragedy. Still, optimism is important if the routine work of the Center is to be endured.
They talk for a while about a particular journalist from an evening paper who interviewed Iben about her time as a hostage.
Then Camilla is off again about the family trips to Sweden. You see, once weve had our teeth fixed in Malmo, we go for a drive. Sometimes we simply pack a picnic and pile the kids into the car. Last time, we went to the Dinosaur Park. Its such fun She glances at Malene and hesitates. At least, anyway if youre there with children.
Malene gets up. Now wed better be good.
This signals that the lunch break is over. They pour themselves fresh mugs of coffee and go back to their desks.
Later that afternoon Camilla finds some new Internet clips from Chris and the Chocolate Factory. They laugh so hard that Anne-Lise comes out from the library to join them.
Malene has sensed tension between herself and Iben all day. Iben probably thinks that she will try to prevent her from seeing more of Gunnar. Malene decides to amuse them with a few impersonations.
You know, I think having fun together now and then is really important. It unites people. She turns to Camilla, her voice still full of laughter. Imagine if someone sponsored a kind of reconciliation project where stand-up comics went to entertain mixed groups of Serbs and Bosnians, just so they could experience laughing together.
Anne-Lise stands over by the library door and turns to Malene. There are twelve million Serbs and four million Bosnians.
Malene wants to be nice to her and smiles. Oh, it was just a thought. A bit of fun. I didnt mean it literally.
That evening Malene finds an e-mail waiting for her on her home computer: YOU, MALENE JENSEN, HAVE SWORN TO YOUR SECRET EVIL, AS LEADER AND CHANCELLOR OF YOUR REICH, LOYALTY AND BRAVERY. YOU HAVE PLEDGED TO EVIL AND THE SUPERIORS APPOINTED BY EVIL, OBEDIENCE UNTO DEATH.* SO HELP YOU G.o.d.
*DEATH, WHICH I WILL BRING YOU VERY SOON.
Nothing happens when she double-clicks on the senders address, which is
She recognizes many of the words from the oath of allegiance sworn by SS officers to Hitler, but changed so that Hitler is replaced by your secret evil and so on. She walks over to a window facing the street, looks out, and then closes the curtains.
After getting a piece of chocolate, she phones Rasmus in Cologne, but he must be in a meeting or something because his cell phone is switched off.
Instead she calls Iben. It turns out that Iben has had a threatening e-mail too and has completely freaked out. She ran out without a jacket and is somewhere on Nrrebro Street.
Malene thinks Ibens reaction is over the top, even given their place of work. It was just an e-mail, after all. She tries to empathize and calm Iben down at the same time. However, she finds herself listening for sounds in her own apartment, though she cant take herself seriously.
Going out into the cold night doesnt make her happy. She has just started the was.h.i.+ng machine and the apartment is a mess. Still, she agrees to meet Iben at Props. Afterward she intends to sleep in her own bed; Iben can stay where she likes.
Before leaving, Malene phones Paul. He is giving a lecture out of town, but luckily she gets hold of him during a coffee break.
He seems untroubled by her news. Its the kind of thing you expect if youre involved in anything political. You just have to learn to put up with it. Of course, well look into these threats, but on the other hand, dont let them scare you.
Malene doesnt feel scared. So youve had e-mails like this too?
Yes.
People threatening to kill you?
Thats right.
Are they sent by war criminals, do you think?
No, I dont. Its mostly right-wing idiots who write to me neo-n.a.z.is and what have you. Everyone in our kind of job gets threatened sooner or later. All you can do is ignore it.
Malene is breaking off small pieces of her chocolate bar but isnt eating any of them. Ive just talked to Iben about it. You know, about how seriously we should take the threats.
Its unpleasant, I know. Is Rasmus at home now?
No, hes in Cologne. At a trade fair.
Thats not so good.
Malene doesnt answer. She can hear the voices of Pauls audience in the background.
Props is nearly empty. Its too early in the evening. A couple of years ago, Malene and Iben started going to Props, where most of the regulars are men, often creative types with slightly haggard faces. Many have made a pa.s.s at Malene across the cafe tables, which look like relics from a 1960s summer house.
Iben waves Malene over.
Even before Malene has a chance to sit down, Iben starts speaking urgently, as quickly and matter-of-factly as if she were at work. Her voice cuts through the low Steely Dan number thats playing in the background.
Listen, Ive rung Camilla and Anne-Lise. Camilla hasnt received one of the e-mails but Anne-Lise wasnt in. And I phoned Lotta and Henk from the Swedish and Dutch genocide centers. Neither of them has had e-mails like the ones we received, and they dont know of anyone who has. She smiles a little, holding a warm cup of coffee with both hands. Then I contacted Anders and Karen at Human Rights and Svend at International Studies. And Paul I called Paul too.
I know. He told me. After you called, he phoned his wife and asked her to check. He hasnt got e-mails like ours. It looks like you and I are the only ones.
Malene had wanted to hug Iben because shed been so scared, but the stream of words gets in the way. Instead she hands over a sweater she has brought and goes to order another coffee for Iben and a gla.s.s of white wine for herself. The two of them agree that Paul would be the likeliest target for a war criminals threats. Paul is constantly in the media spotlight and signs most of the Centers public statements regardless of who drafted them. So why hasnt he, or someone else prominent in the human rights sector, received the menacing messages?
They try to think of a war criminal they have exposed on the Web, one Paul hasnt mentioned publicly, but no one seems to fit the description.
At a corner table two men in soccer jerseys start arguing loudly. Iben holds her line of thought, and blinks, turning to scan the darkness outside the large window that looks onto Blgrd Street. Malene cant help following Ibens gaze, but there is nothing to see. Iben is definitely not herself.
Wearing Malenes coffee-colored sweater, Iben leans forward. What she says gives little away about how she feels. You must watch her eyes and mouth instead.
Here we are, good people with university degrees. Day after day, were off to our jobs at the Center or the Inst.i.tute for Human Rights or Amnesty International or Doctors Without Borders. We discuss the news during our lunch breaks and water plants and put up posters for UN special days. And we dont realize that at any moment we might have to fight torturers or executioners or militia bosses. Because, although we never think about it, were soldiers at war.
Small muscles twitch around Ibens mouth, indicating, as Malene knows, that what she is saying is paramount.
Malene feels a surge of warmth toward her friend and proposes a toast: To us. Women at War.
Iben responds eagerly, as if Malene has just uttered the phrase she had been searching for. Yes, thats who we are! Women at War. Weve never realized it until now. None of us ever thought about herself that way Iben has said it so loud that the two men in soccer jerseys turn around to look.
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