Part 45 (2/2)

Dragan broke her litany. Trust me. When I say something is a lie, it is. But you must also understand that youll never know what war is like. Its horrific. No one reacts the way he expects to you wouldnt either. And I didnt. But I got away. I risked my life to get out.

Then he went on to say again what he had told her many times before: I had to put an end to all that. Now its over and done. From now on, I want to live a proper life. I want to live here with you and be good, like you.

Camilla clung to him desperately, hardly letting him take off his clothes.

It frightened her to discover that s.e.x was even better now, with the uncertainty about what he had or hadnt done, the uncertainty about what he might do next.

The rapturous feeling of being totally free of the past as well as the future lasted longer this time. She was still glowing with euphoria when, later, she examined her body in front of the big mirror in the bathroom for any new bruises.

In the morning Dragan was sleeping so deeply that he seemed impossible to wake. Camilla couldnt go back to sleep. She was tormented by dreadful images about what had happened to the man at the bar. Whatever happened, it would be her fault. What had they done to him?

After eating breakfast alone, she thought shed wash Dragans clothes to get rid of the beer and tobacco fumes. She wanted somehow to make up for having threatened to report him to the police. It was true that she had no idea what had really gone on in that war. All she could be certain of was that Dragan was also one of its victims.

She picked up the clothes he had thrown over a chair and carried them off to the bathroom. When she shook out his brown trousers she noticed there was something in one of the pockets: a small, soft package. It felt like a condom.

Camilla, who was on the pill, had a vision of just how furiously shed let him have it if it was a condom. Shed fly into a rage and not give a d.a.m.n if he hit her afterward.

But it wasnt a condom. It was a small, transparent plastic bag containing some white powder.

It looked like the cocaine packets she had seen in films. Christ almighty, how could he afford this stuff? Was he an addict? Perhaps he was a dealer and traded drugs to pay for his own habit sold it to his friends. But that meant they were users too people like Lenas husband, and nice, hospitable Goran. Could it be true?

All the time she had thought that Dragans friends respected him. Were they actually scared of him? Maybe they owed him money for drugs? Or maybe they feared and pitied him at the same time. Just like herself.

She threw him out. He moved back to the refugee camp.

During the days that followed, she investigated Dragans life in Yugoslavia in every way she could. She realized that there were too many corroborating accounts for all of them to be based on lies and misunderstandings. For instance, it was quite clear that Dragan had, together with Mirko Zigic, volunteered for guard and interrogation duties in the Omarska camp. Torture was routinely carried out there, as everyone knew by then.

Leafing through a book that Dragan had left behind, a collection of Crnjanskis poetry, she found a little note stuck between the pages. It began with some writing that contained the word Dragan, then more incomprehensible words, and then the signature Mirko Z.

She still couldnt bring herself to report Dragan as a suspected Bosnian war criminal, or even a cocaine dealer. She didnt want to charge him with domestic violence either; the consequences for him would have been too drastic.

One day she met Dragan again at Lena and Simos place. By now she was much more frightened of him than she had ever been of Morten; yet, once more, they ended up together on his black coat in the shrubbery behind the Frederiksberg block of apartments. He moved back in with her. She hoped that she would have been quicker to distance herself from his alcohol and cocaine abuse if she hadnt known of his past sufferings.

After a while she threw him out again, only to have it start all over again. When this cycle had repeated itself a few times, she still didnt know how he afforded his cocaine but decided to try some herself. She discovered that she had an addictive personality. She had already become dependent on his cooking and his s.e.x and now, in no time at all, on his drugs too.

Then one day Dragan met another woman. He fell as tempestuously in love with her as he had done with Camilla only six months earlier.

Their affair was finished. Over the following two years, Camilla felt deeply depressed. There was nothing to fill her life, except unbearable visits to see her parents or to Anja and Finns place for yet another altogether too cozy evening of drinking tea and chatting.

Camilla forced herself to attend choir practice regularly. With the help of her parents and a support group, she determinedly beat her addiction. Finally, she understood clearly that the shrew who had stolen Dragan away had in fact also saved her life.

chapter 47.

Camilla and the kids get up at the same time as Finn. He is up early, usually at five-thirty in the morning.

She arrives at the Center about an hour and a half before the others.

The red light on the answering machine glows in the semidarkness, but it doesnt blink. No messages. Malene has forgotten to switch her computer off. Camilla quickly turns on the overhead lights. They flicker a couple of times and then everything looks normal again. She turns her own computer on and goes to make coffee.

The offices are silent, the book-lined walls absorbing the noises from outside. Its still too early for the morning traffic to have started up. Until recently, early morning was Camillas favorite time at work, a quiet moment to herself when she could organize her work. But these last few days have changed everything.

Ever since Iben discovered that Camilla has been involved with a war criminal, shes excluded her. Camilla knows only too well what that means.

She returns to her seat and finds a stack of unrecorded vouchers. Before she left home she took two aspirin, but she still feels rotten especially her stomach.

This is how the mornings were for her a long time ago. In order for her mother to get to work on time, she would drop Camilla off at school about twenty minutes before the first lesson. For years Camilla would start each day sitting with her knees together on the worn old bench in the school yard, speculating about what would happen that day. How would her cla.s.smates punish her today?

Maybe she shouldnt drink coffee on an upset stomach. Anyway, its probably ready. She goes to pour herself a cup.

Then the others arrive and the first two hours pa.s.s just as she knew they would.

Later that morning she decides to change the humming fluorescent light in Pauls office. Paul has been complaining about it for ages, and fixing it gives Camilla a chance to get out of having to be in the same room as Malene.

In the storage room Camilla takes her time pulling out the ladder and finding a new tube. She hurries through the Winter Garden, closes Pauls office door behind her, and sets to work as slowly as possible. While shes standing on the top step of the ladder trying to fit the new tube into place, Iben enters briskly and starts speaking without a pause.

Ive been in contact with a Serb journalist, and he told me that a colleague of his was murdered by your old boyfriend about a year ago.

What ?

Dragan pistol-whipped this man to death, Camilla. Someone who had written a critical article about Dragans friend Zigic and the Serbian cause. Just as I have.

But Camilla has to get down from the ladder, and takes the tube with her.

You have to help us. We need more to go on.

But I cant tell you any more than I already have.

How come I always have the impression youre lying when it concerns Dragan?

Im not lying. There just isnt anything else to say. Look, I feel just like you. Im scared that h.e.l.l come after us too, but what can I do?

The muscles around Ibens jaw are twitching visibly. She stands with her feet planted apart. Brigitte, the vilest of the girls in Camillas cla.s.s, used to stand like that in front of the teachers desk. The others would cl.u.s.ter around her. When she found something to throw at Camilla, the others would start throwing things too.

Camilla has to sit down. She sinks into one of the chairs at Pauls conference table and buries her face in her hands, pressing her fingers against her eyes.

Ibens insistent voice comes at her through the darkness. Id like to believe you. Its just that your whole manner wont let me. Youre such a poor liar, Camilla.

But Im not lying!

Camilla can hear her own voice go thin and shrill. Even with her head down and her eyes closed, Camilla can feel Iben silently watching in her warriors stance.

Camilla repeats herself. Im not lying! Im not lying! Im not lying!

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