“Oh, Tata,” he whispered to the moonless sky. “I could’ve helped you. We could’ve done it together.”
• • •
FINALLY, EXHAUSTED, BLEARY-EYED, he returned home to Forest Street. He looked at his watch. It was just after 2:00 A.M.
He was almost at their driveway when he noticed the white van parked in front of their house. His system went cold and he swerved wildly, nearly crashing into his mother’s Olds.
The authorities. The authorities were here. He had left his mother all alone, and now she was being handcuffed and questioned by some secret terrorism task force. He only briefly considered the possibility of fleeing before he took a deep breath and surveyed the situation. No. He was the man of the house now. He couldn’t leave her. He would claim all responsibility for the blackout. He would take the fall for his family.
Radar hid his bicycle behind the viburnum and quietly unlocked the front door, readying himself to be tackled by a SWAT team.
All was quiet. The house was dark.
“Mom?” he called tentatively. “It’s me.”
There was no response.
Upstairs in her room, he found the bed empty. Or not exactly empty: his flashlight caught sight of the little wooden figure lying among the sheets.
“Mom?” he said again.
The flashlight’s beam searching the room. Sweeping past a sheeted bookshelf.
“Mom?” An edge of panic rising in his voice.
The record player silent on the rug. The burned-out stub of the candle on the bedside table, a thicket of wax spilling down the wood. The darkened hole in the floor.
He picked up the figurine. Carved-out eyes, the hint of a mouth. A ghastly little thing.
“Charlene?”
“Radar?” said a voice.
He whirled around, the flashlight beam finding her squinting at him from the doorway. She was holding a candle in one hand and a fire poker in the other.
“Jesus, Mom. You scared me.”
“There’s somebody out there!” she hissed.
“Where?”
“In the shack. I can see their lights. I was too scared to go outside.”
He peered out the window. Sure enough, he could see the glint of light through the shack’s open door.
“Maybe it’s Kermin,” said Radar.
“It didn’t look like him, but I couldn’t be sure,” she whispered. “There’s at least two of them.”
They watched the shack but didn’t see any movement.
“You didn’t find him, did you?” she whispered.
Radar shook his head. “I looked everywhere.”
“What should we do?”
Radar took a breath. “I’ll go down.”
“I’m coming with you.”
“No,” he said. “It’s better if you stay here.”
She grabbed his wrist. “I’m not letting you go out there alone!”
And so — she with fire poker and he with a flashlight and a hastily retrieved coatrack that he was brandishing like a spear — together they cautiously ventured through the sliding double doors and into the backyard.
As they approached, a figure emerged from the shack. He was carrying a box in his arms.
“Halt!” called Radar. “Who goes there?”
Who goes there? What was this, Medieval Times?
“It’s me!” said the man.
Radar peered into the darkness. The voice, familiar.
“Who’s me?”
“Lars.”
“Lars?” Radar sighed. He put the coatrack down in the middle of the grass. “What’re you doing here?”
“You know him?” said Charlene.
Lars approached, box in hand.
“I’m terribly sorry to barge in on you like this. As you can see, we’re in a bit of a rush.”
“What is that?” said Radar, pointing at the box.
“Well. . After you left, Otik and I had a little. . tête-à-tête. And we agreed that, despite the circumstances, all of the work we’ve done up until this point — including that by your father — really deserves to see the light of day. And it’s true this ship that leaves. . well, now it’s this morning. . this ship could really be our only chance for a long time. So I—” He stopped himself. “Apologies. You must be Charlene Radmanovic.” He put down the box and held out his hand. “Lars Røed-Larsen.”
Charlene, who was still holding the poker with two hands, did not return the handshake.
“You know my husband?” she said.
“Kermin’s been a longtime colleague, hero, and mentor of mine,” said Lars. “You and I have actually met once, long ago. In Norway. I was ten at the time.”
Charlene blinked, squinted. “That was you? The blond boy?”
“No doubt I was probably up to some mischief when you saw me.”
“Lars and I met tonight,” said Radar. “At Xanadu. They’ve been working with Kermin on a show.”
“Kirkenesferda,” Charlene said slowly.
“Wait — you know about them?” said Radar.
“I’ve lived with the man for thirty-five years. Some things you can’t keep secret forever.”
Otik appeared in the doorway of the shack.
“Hey!” he hissed. “What are you doing? There is like eight hundred fifty-five more birds!”
“Otik,” said Lars. “Come out and say hello.”
“What is this?” said Otik. “We need to move!” He ducked back inside.
Lars held up his hands. “And that’s Otik,” he said.
“I know Otik,” said Charlene. “Has he had his heart attack today?”
“Most probably.” Lars smiled.
“So you’re taking the birds?” said Radar.
“If we can manage to find them all. Your father caused quite a mess with that little experiment of his.”
“But you’re taking them without his permission?” said Radar.
Lars bowed. “I realize this isn’t ideal. Believe me, I wish things could be different. In truth, I’m not sure how we’re going to pull it off without him.”
Otik waddled up to them, his flashlight bobbing.
“We will,” he said.
“Will we?”
“You make it with what you have. This is always how we do it.”
“Yes, but this is Kermin we’re talking about,” said Lars. “These are his birds.”
“But after today there is no more ship!” said Otik. “You said so yourself. If we don’t go, we kiss all of them goodbye.”
“But say we leave and he shows up tomorrow,” said Lars. “What would you tell him? ‘Sorry, we didn’t know where you were, so after ten years of planning we decided to abandon you’?”
“First off, he will not show. You and I both know this.” He swung the flashlight to Charlene’s face. “No offense,” he said. The light swung back to Lars. “On second hand, he would also do this. ‘The project comes first,’ he said to me. Always, always, always. It is like this. If I would disappear like him, I would also want you to go without me.”
“We couldn’t do the show without you,” said Lars. “You know that. Or without Kermin, for that matter. We need three people, minimum, to pull it off. Probably more.”
“Not true,” said Otik. “I could do whole show myself.”
“You couldn’t.”
“I could.”
“What about Radar?” Charlene said suddenly.
Everyone turned and stared at her.
“What about him?” Lars asked.
“He could go instead of Kermin,” she said.