Part 8 (1/2)

The next week he followed his father-in-law through the streets to the mining consultant's home. He had no specific plan, he only wanted to find out what route Tacker took. He remained hidden in the shadows. It was a warm evening, and he waited for four hours until Tacker emerged and went back home accompanied by two other men. One of them stumbled occasionally, they were laughing a lot, kept stopping, then moving on again, all the time engrossed in talk.That night, when his wife had gone to bed, he sat in his study and worked out a plan. On his desk were the hammer and the dark-coloured scarf. He was perfectly calm. It was like preparing for one of his expeditions. He did not notice that on two occasions his wife had appeared in the doorway, looking at him.

CHAPTER 153.

It was a windy evening, with occasional showers.He had put the scarf and the hammer with the sock round its head in his overcoat pockets. When Ludwig Tacker came out of his front door, Tobia.s.son-Svartman hurried to waylay him at a spot where it was especially dark and usually deserted. He hid in the shadows next to a wall. His father-in-law pa.s.sed by so close that he could smell his cigar. The old man's walking stick tip-tapped on the paving stones. Tobia.s.son-Svartman wrapped the scarf round his face and took out the hammer. Seven paces, eight at most and he would have caught up.Tacker spun round and raised his walking stick.'Who are you?' he yelled. 'What do you want?'Tobia.s.son-Svartman was terrified. He was sinking, hitting out was a way of coming back up to the surface. Tacker bellowed and defended himself stoutly, hitting with his walking stick and trying to pull off the scarf round Tobia.s.son-Svartman's face. Tacker was strong. He pulled and tugged and the scarf was half off when the hammer hit him on the nose. There was a crunching sound. Tacker fell heavily. Tobia.s.son-Svartman ran away. He threw the hammer into the water at Nybroviken, having first knotted the scarf tightly round its handle.All the time he was afraid that somebody was going to grab him. But n.o.body came. He was alone with his fear.He stood in Wallingatan for a long time. He had never been so terrified in all his life. Ludwig Tacker had almost exposed him. Everything would have collapsed.In the end he opened the front door and walked up the stairs to his flat. Kristina Tacker was asleep. He listened outside her door.The dead eyes of the china figurines glinted in the light from the street lamps. He sat down in the warm room and hoped that Ludwig Tacker was dead.

CHAPTER 154.

The attack on Ludwig Tacker aroused a lot of attention. There were prominent articles in the newspapers. Everybody agreed that the a.s.sailant must be a madman.But his father-in-law did not die. He had a broken jaw, a badly broken nose and he had bitten deeply into his tongue. The doctors treating him established that he also had concussion.It was evening. Kristina Tacker had been to see her father. Tobia.s.son-Svartman was in his study, reading a meteorological journal, when she came into the room.'I don't want to disturb you,' she said.He put the journal down and pointed to the sofa in front of one of the two high windows. She slumped down.'You're not disturbing me,' he said. 'How could you do that?'I've been thinking about what happened.''We must be grateful that he wasn't more badly injured.'She shook her head. 'What kind of a person would try to kill a man he didn't know?''It's like in a war.''What do you mean?''You don't kill people, you kill enemies. And the enemy is nearly always faceless. This man is conducting a secret war. Everybody is his enemy, n.o.body is his friend.'She asked no more questions but left the room. He picked up a newspaper and read about himself. About the madman they were looking for.I am completely calm, he thought. n.o.body is going to arrest me, n.o.body knows. The man who appeared out of the darkness has vanished. He will never reappear. He will remain a riddle.

CHAPTER 155.

The next day they went to visit his father-in-law; he was in bed at home, receiving only a few visitors.He was tempted, just for an instant, to tell Ludwig Tacker who it had been, hidden behind the scarf.'I'm very sorry to hear about what happened,' he said. 'It's the duty of the police to track down the madman. Let us hope they succeed. Thank goodness it didn't end in catastrophe, at least'Ludwig Tacker looked hard at him without saying a word. Then he made a dismissive gesture. He wanted to be left in peace.Tobia.s.son-Svartman sat down on a bench in Humlegrden.It's not me, he told himself. For short periods I am somebody else, perhaps my father, perhaps somebody I could never imagine. I am searching for something, a bottom that does not exist, neither in the sea nor in myself.His thoughts faded away. Children were playing in the park. His head was a complete vacuum. He started to feel extremely weary, it was like a bank of fog creeping up on him.When he woke up it was late afternoon. He went home.In the flat he found the maid waiting for him, red-eyed. Kristina Tacker had been rushed into hospital some hours previously. She had gone into labour, although the baby was not due for a long time yet.The shock, he thought. Her shock and fear are now mine as well. I hoped her father would die. It might end up with me killing my own child instead.

CHAPTER 156.

Kristina Tacker gave birth to a daughter that evening.The doctors were very doubtful if the baby would live. For the next few days Tobia.s.son-Svartman did not leave the flat. He sent the maid back and forth, bringing news from the Serafimer Hospital.The days were sultry. At night, when the maid had fallen asleep in exhaustion, he took to wandering about the flat naked. He frequently sat at his desk to write down his thoughts. But over and over again he discovered that he did not have any thoughts. All around him and inside him was nothing but a vast vacuum.One night when he could not sleep he packed a suitcase. He tried to fold his clothes as if it had been his wife doing the packing for him.The china figurines stood silently on their shelves. He waited.

CHAPTER 157.

On 2 August he received a telephone message from a hospital consultant by the name of Edman.He was asked to attend the hospital as soon as possible. His panic reaction was such that he had stomach pains. He hurried out of the flat doubled up in agony.If the baby had died his wife would be very critical. He had stayed away for too long, had avoided his responsibilities. Or had something happened to her? Had she caught an infection? He had no idea, and sat s.h.i.+vering in the cab.Then it struck him: Ludwig Tacker. Has he realised that I was the one who attacked him? Has he told her?When he arrived at the hospital the first thing he needed to do was to go to the lavatory. Then he knocked on the consultant's door, heard a loud 'Come', and went in. Dr Edman was tall and bald. He invited his visitor to take a seat.'You look very frightened.''Obviously, I was very worried when I was summoned here.''Everybody always fears the worst when they are bidden to come to the hospital. I've tried to drum it into my staff that they should try not to sound so d.a.m.ned dramatic on the telephone. But hospitals are frightening places, whether one likes it or not. However, you have no need to worry. Your daughter will survive. She is strong and has a powerful l.u.s.t for life.'His relief was beyond words. Once he had injured his arm when he fell from a companionway. The pain was intense and he had been given a morphine injection by the s.h.i.+p's doctor. He had never forgotten the feeling of relief when the injection started working. It was the same now, as if somebody had pumped some drug into his veins. His stomach pains ceased, Dr Edman stood before him like a beaming redeemer, dressed in white.'They had better stay in hospital for a while yet,' the doctor said. 'We learn a lot every time we have an opportunity to study a premature baby.'He left Dr Edman's office and walked along the corridor.I do not deserve this, he thought. But my daughter wants to live, she has more of a will to live than I have.He went to look at the little miracle.

CHAPTER 158.

It seemed to him that she looked like a dried mushroom. But she's mine, he thought. She's mine and she's alive.Kristina Tacker had a small private room. She was pale and tired. He sat down on the bed and took her hand.'She's a beautiful baby,' he said. 'I want her to be called Laura.''As we had agreed,' she said with a faint smile.He did not stay for long. Just before he left, he told her that he would have to set out on his mission now. He ought to have left already, but he had asked for a postponement until he could be confident that the baby would survive.'Thank you for staying,' she said.'Everything will be all right,' he said. 'I'll soon be back.'He left the hospital. It was a relief, like sinking into warm water.

CHAPTER 159.

That night he wandered around the flat naked.Shortly before dawn he opened the door of the maid's room. She had thrown off the covers and was lying naked in her bed. He stood looking at her for a long time before leaving.When she woke up he was no longer there.

PART IX.

The Imprint of the German Deserter

CHAPTER 160.

He was walking beside the river, a winding path between dry nettles and patches of tall ferns.It was the third day after his flight from Stockholm, Kristina Tacker and the baby. In the market square at Soderkoping he had gone round the fish stalls looking for somebody who would be sailing home through Slatbaken and then turning off in the direction of Finno. A couple of farm labourers from Kattilo were willing to take him with them, and wanted paying in aquavit. They were due to meet at the mouth of the river two days later, by which time the labourers hoped to have sold all the fish they had caught in their spare time to boost their income.There was an opening by the side of the path, a clearing leading down to the brown river. He sat on a large stone and closed his eyes. Although he had been moving slowly without exerting himself, he was breathing heavily, as if he had been running. It was not only when he moved, but also when he was sitting down, or sleeping. He was still running.Even before he went aboard the train that was to take him south he had written a letter to Kristina Tacker. He explained his sudden departure by telling her that the war had entered an unexpected and very worrying phase. As usual, everything was top secret, every letter he wrote to her, especially if it contained the slightest reference to the character of his work, meant that he was exposing himself, his wife and the baby to danger.He sat at a table in the first-cla.s.s dining room at the Central Station. His hand shook as he wrote the name Laura. He lost control of himself and burst into tears. A waitress watched him nervously but said nothing. He pulled himself together and started to invent his new, urgent mission.The war is coming closer to our sh.o.r.es. The people cannot be told anything about it yet, but military men like myself are aware of the situation. The work of securing our borders must be intensified. I shall be on board several different s.h.i.+ps. The location will vary, to both the north and the south of the Baltic Sea, or along the Halland and Bohus coast in the west. My letters will not be channelled via the military post office in Malmo. They will be sent from special Swedish Navy bases along the east coast. You must not mention anything I write to anybody. That would put me in danger, there could be repercussions, I could even be dismissed. I shall write again soon.He posted the letter at the railway station, bought a ticket to Norrkoping and left Stockholm. Before Sodertalje the train pa.s.sed through a local forest fire. The smoke was like fog outside the windows.That is what I am looking for, he thought. I can row into the fog, just like when I approached a remote skerry and found Sara Fredrika.He continued as far as Soderkoping and spent the night in the hotel on the bank of the ca.n.a.l. Without understanding why, he checked in under an a.s.sumed name. He called himself Ludwig Tacker, gave no occupational t.i.tle and stipulated Humlegrdsgatan as his home address.It was a sultry night. He lay awake, on top of the covers.n.o.body here knows who I am, he thought. I am safe at present. When my position can be fixed, I have gone astray.As dawn broke, he went for a walk along the ca.n.a.l, strolled up to the top of Ramunderberget, went back to the hotel, had coffee and wrote another letter to his wife. He described himself as exhilarated, happy about the birth of their child, but at the same time very conscious of his duty.It was a short letter. He sealed the envelope and left the hotel.It was a hot day. Only when he came to the path meandering along the river did he feel anything that could remotely be described as cool.

CHAPTER 161.

As he sat on the stone in the clearing, he started thinking. Should he extend his mission and make it longer than he had at first intended? The path next to the river, the warm, damp smell of mud, led his mind to other continents, perhaps Africa, or Asia. A courier could take his letters and post them in Sweden. Kristina Tacker would be worried about distant dangers, diseases, insects and snakes. There again, the distance would make his secret all the bigger, she would never tell anybody, not even her father. Besides, she knew nothing about naval s.h.i.+ps. If he told her that there was a s.h.i.+p that could sail at the prodigious speed of eighty knots, she would not question it.Kristina Tacker never questioned secrets.He sat on the stone and played with the thought of expeditions to distant countries.He made a measurement he had never attempted before. How far from the truth could he transport a fantasy before it collapsed in ruins?There was no answer to that, of course. He also imagined transforming his sounding lead into a diving bell and descending into the depths himself. How strong a pressure would he be able to tolerate? Would the sh.e.l.l hold or would it shatter so that he was sent shooting back up to the surface and the real world once more?It was already late afternoon when he left his stone and continued walking towards the mouth of the river. He imagined himself trudging along a path somewhere inside a steaming rainforest in a tropical land without a name.