Part 32 (2/2)

Paul swallows the last of his croissant as he listens to Iben. Great! Well done, Iben! Anne-Lise, we need you to be in on this too.

Somewhere inside Anne-Lise a fuse has blown. The fantasy of Iben feeling the war criminals knife against her throat in the harsh light of the stairway plays over and over. It is only through a haze that Anne-Lise sees Paul wiping crumbs off his mouth. His lips keep moving, talking to her.

Its important that you dont just trace lots of articles and review papers but that you also work with Iben to select the most useful ones. You two will have to work as a team. What do you think?

Ibens clawed hand grips the war criminals leather jacket. She tugs violently at it. He doesnt react at all. His movements are so a.s.sured, so experienced. The big man has done this many times before.

Anne-Lise shakes herself. Is this what Yngve warned me against? she wonders. Am I burned out? Is that why I cant concentrate?

She looks quickly around the circle of her colleagues. Paul has seen it. Now he has to admit that the others were right all along. Im incompetent. Ill be fired and they will have succeeded.

Her head clears enough to tune back in as Paul is finis.h.i.+ng his speech.

The themed issue of Genocide News will also serve to legitimize our existence in the eyes of the politicians. The thing is to be on the offensive. If we can produce the best printed and Web site info on this subject, it will be harder to close us down. So Iben, Anne-Lise next month youre working for the Centers survival as well.

Anne-Lises head is spinning. Has he asked me to do something else? Yes, he must have. Ive no idea what it is. Is it true that Im impossible to work with? Yes, of course its true.

After the meeting, Anne-Lise has a headache.

She stops in the library doorway and puts on her winter coat and scarf. The painkillers seem to have had no effect. Her eyes narrow in the Winter Gardens bright fluorescent light. Staring down at the floor, she speaks quietly. I need to go home. Im not feeling well. Thats why I couldnt concentrate earlier on.

Paul is there too. Camilla smiles at Anne-Lise and makes sure that he sees it. She says in a loud voice that she had no idea that Anne-Lise wasnt focused, she seemed as attentive as ever.

Outside the December weather is cold and gray. Anne-Lise manages to drive along the motorway toward Holte without any problems, but after turning onto Vase Road she almost misses seeing a cyclist in the dim light. She slams on the brakes seconds before hitting his rear mudguard. Without looking around, she swerves the car until it comes to a halt perpendicular to the road. The car behind her does a grinding emergency stop. Theres a small shudder as it hits her own car.

The driver leaps out. Together with the cyclist, they shout at her and bang their hands on her car. The driver says that his front b.u.mper is dented and demands her telephone number and insurance details. Anne-Lise obliges.

She manages to park off the road. She and the driver exchange phone numbers. He asks her if shes in a bad way, implying that shes either drunk or high. She tells him that she has a headache. Once he has gone, she sits for a while in her car with her head in her hands.

Eventually she decides that driving is too risky. Its barely half a mile to her house, so she can leave the car where it is and walk the rest of the way.

Anne-Lise walks along a road lined with villas, close to a hedge with long bare branches that form a p.r.i.c.kly canopy over her head. The pain is so bad that she cant bear looking up.

A womans voice calls out. Brigitte!

After hearing the name called a couple more times, Anne-Lise glances around. Theres only a woman she doesnt recognize, so Anne-Lise starts to walk again, but the woman catches up with her.

I knew it was you! Camillas friend! So nice to see you! Do you live near here?

Anne-Lise cannot think what she is talking about. The woman notices her blank stare. You dont remember me, do you? The choir. The Copenhagen Postal Choir.

Oh!

Anne-Lise feels dizzy. Her headache makes it hard to think. Even so, she knows that if this woman discovers that Brigitte is in fact Anne-Lise, Camilla will find out. And then her colleagues will not hesitate to stick the mentally ill label on her for good.

The woman is dressed expensively in a blue woolen coat that is almost full-length. The shade of her lipstick is far too bright for her age. Anne-Lise cant help but feel that this woman seems confused and a little disturbed.

Brigitte, do you live around here too? We do need a choir here instead of in town.

Anne-Lise is only a hundred yards or so from her home. Im afraid I dont. Im just visiting an old friend of mine.

Not Camilla? Or has she moved out here? The woman obviously doesnt remember how Anne-Lises evening at choir practice had ended up.

No. Not Camilla. Anne-Lise moves out from under the hedge. She knows that she doesnt have the stamina to continue the lies for much longer.

The woman repeats herself. I live nearby. And we do need a choir here.

Anne-Lise has no idea what shes thinking. Yes, we do.

Perhaps you live in the Holte area?

No. No, I dont.

The woman wipes her mouth, as if something were stuck there. I was Camillas friend once.

Yes?

I was. I stopped seeing her when she started that relations.h.i.+p with him you know, that ghastly man.

Yes, I know. What was his name again?

Dragan.

Thats it. Dragan.

This woman wont stop talking. Odd name. But he was a refugee. From Serbia, wasnt he?

Yes, thats right. Serbia. Anne-Lise forces herself to look at the woman. It was Dragan ? Dragan ?

Dragan Jelisic, wasnt it?

Thats it. Yes, Dragan Jelisic. Yes, yes. I thought he was really hard to get on with.

Anne-Lise excuses herself abruptly and hurries home.

The next best thing to being able to speak to Henrik would be to talk to no one for the rest of the day. She walks up the driveway, unlocks the door, and goes to lie down on the black sofa, with little hope of the migraine going away soon.

She thinks about Camilla and what it might mean that she once went out with a Serbian refugee and has kept it secret. But the pain in her head makes it impossible to think.

Only the revenge fantasies about Malene and Iben are alive in her mind, as if the images lead a life of their own. A young man in a red tracksuit hauls Malenes body into the undergrowth. The cracking sounds as branches break when her body is pushed down onto the woodland floor. Ibens pale neck, the echoing acoustics of the stairway, the veins that become visible in her neck and under the thin skin beneath her eyes. And in the shadow of the trees, the terror in Malenes eyes when she understands that she is being punished for having ruined another human beings life.

Anne-Lise is determined to think about something that makes her feel like a good person, one who is normal and healthy.

The blood is flowing from Malenes body and soaks into the ground.

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