She swallowed. It had of course crossed her mind that he liked men but she had never confronted him about it. Markus being bisexual or — more likely — a closet gay wasn’t perverse. What was sick was that Markus Røed — one of the richest, most powerful men in the city, a man the press had accused of greed, tax evasion, bad taste and worse — didn’t dare admit to the world the one human characteristic which could have helped him breathe more freely. Instead he had become a textbook case of a homosexual homophobe, a self-loathing narcissist and walking paradox. But little boys? Children. No. At the same time, now that the idea was presented to her and she reflected, it was all too logical. She shuddered. Another thought made its way into her mind: that this might come in useful as regards the divorce settlement.
‘How do you know this?’ she asked, without moving while she looked around for her knickers.
‘He was my stepfather. He abused me from the time I was six years old. I say six because the earliest time I can recall him doing it was the same day he gave me a bicycle. Three times a week. Three times a week he screwed that little arse of mine. Year in. Year out.’
Helene was breathing through her mouth. The air inside the car was thick with the smell of sex and that unusual musk scent. She swallowed. ‘Your mother, did she know about...?’
‘It was the usual. She suspected, I suppose, but did nothing to confirm it. She was an unemployed alcoholic who was afraid of losing him. Yet that’s what happened.’
‘It’s always the ones who are afraid that end up being left behind.’
‘Aren’t you afraid?’
‘Me? Why would I be?’
‘Now that you understand the reason you and I are here.’
Was she mistaken or was he growing hard inside her again?
‘Susanne Andersen?’ she asked at length. ‘Was it you?’
He nodded.
‘And Bertine?’
He nodded again.
Maybe he was bluffing, maybe not. Either way Helene knew she ought to be afraid. So why wasn’t she? Why instead did she begin moving her hips back and forth? Slowly at first, then more intensely.
‘Don’t...’ he said, his face suddenly pale.
But she rode him again. It was as if her body had a will of its own, and she raised herself up on his cock and back down again with full vigour. Felt his stomach tighten, heard a muffled groan, thought he was about to come again. Then she saw a cascade of yellow-green vomit spew from his mouth. It went onto his chest, spilling onto the seat and down to his stomach, towards her. The smell was so acrid she felt her own stomach begin to turn, and she pinched her nose with her thumb and forefinger as she held her breath.
‘No, no, no,’ he groaned, without moving while groping about on the floor beneath them. Found his shirt and began wiping himself with it. ‘It’s that shit there,’ he said, pointing at the crisp packet in the centre console. Helene could see it said Hillman Pets on it.
‘I need to eat it to regulate the population of parasites,’ he said, rubbing the shirt across his stomach. ‘But it’s hard to find the balance. If I eat too much my stomach can’t handle it. I hope you understand. Or can sympathise.’
Helene neither understood nor sympathised, she just concentrated on not breathing while she held her nose. And felt a strange change come over her. It was as though the desire and longing were gradually subsiding and being replaced by another emotion: fear.
Susanne. Then Bertine. And now it was her turn.
She needed to get out, get away, now!
He regarded her as if he sensed her fear. She made a concerted effort to smile. Her left hand was free, she could open the door with it, get out and run. Towards the terraced houses they had passed where the forest track began, it couldn’t be more than three or four hundred metres there. Good, four hundred metres had been her best event, and she ran faster barefoot than in shoes. Furthermore, she guessed he would hesitate to follow her since they were both naked, enough to give her the head start she needed. He wouldn’t have time to turn the car around and catch up with her either, and if he tried, she could just cut into the woods. He just needed to be distracted a little while her left hand located the door handle. She was about to let go of her nose to place her right hand over his eyes in a pretence of affection when another thought entered her mind. That the change had occurred when she wasn’t breathing and wasn’t smelling. That there was a connection there.
‘I understand,’ she whispered ingratiatingly. ‘These things happen. You’re clean now. Let’s have it a little dark again.’ She tried not to inhale the air and hoped he couldn’t hear the quaver in her voice. ‘Where’s the dome light?’
‘Thanks,’ he said with a wan smile and pointed to the roof.
She found the switch and put out the light. In the darkness she clawed at the inside of the passenger door with her left hand. Found the door handle, eased it open and shoved the door wide. Felt the cold night air against her skin. Kicked off to get out. But he was too quick. His hands were around her throat, tightening their grip. She beat him on the chest with both hands, but the grip around her throat grew even tighter. She raised herself up on one knee in the seat and drove her other knee forward in the hope of striking his crotch. She had no sense of connecting, but he let go, and she got out, felt the gravel against her bare feet, fell over, but got back up and began to run. It was difficult to breathe, like he still had her in a stranglehold, but she had to ignore it, had to get away. And now she got a little air. She could see the lights down by the main road. Had to be less than four hundred metres away, surely? Yes, not even three hundred. This was going to be OK. She increased her pace, she really took off. There was no way he’d be able to catch up wi—
It was as if someone had appeared in the darkness in front of her and hit her so hard in the throat that she was knocked to the ground. She landed on her back, hitting her head on the gravel.
She must have been out for a few seconds, because on opening her eyes again she could hear footsteps approaching on the gravel.
She tried to scream but the stranglehold tightened again.
She brought her fingers to her throat and felt what it was.
The collar.
He had fastened the dog collar on her and allowed her to run, letting the retractable lead be drawn from the housing, waiting calmly until she had reached her fifty metres of freedom.
She no longer heard the footsteps as her fingers located the clasp. She squeezed it together and was free. From the collar. She didn’t have time to scramble to her feet before she was pushed back down onto the gravel.
His naked body seemed shimmering white as he stood over her in the darkness with one foot on her chest. She stared at what he was holding in his right hand. What little light there was reflected on the shiny steel. It was a knife. A large knife. Still, she wasn’t scared. At least not as scared as when she had held her breath in the car. It wasn’t that she was unafraid to die, but it was as though her lust was stronger. She simply couldn’t explain it any other way.
He crouched down, put the blade to her throat, leaned forward and whispered in her ear: ‘If you scream, I’ll cut right away. Nod if you understand.’
She nodded mutely. He leaned back, still on his haunches. And she could still feel the cold steel against her neck.
‘I’m sorry, Helene.’ His voice sounded tearful. ‘It’s not fair that you have to die. You haven’t done anything, you’re not the target. You just have the terrible misfortune to be a necessary means.’
She coughed. ‘Ne... necessary for what?’
‘To humiliate and destroy Markus Røed.’
‘Because he...’
‘Yes, because he fucked me. And when he wasn’t doing that, I had to suck on that ugly fucking cock of his for supper and breakfast and sometimes for lunch. Can you relate, Helene? The difference is that in my case there were no fringe benefits. Apart from the bike that one time. And that he stayed with my mother, of course. Sick, isn’t it? That I was afraid that he would leave us. I don’t know if it was me or my mother who grew too old for him, but he left us for a younger woman with a younger son. All this was long before your time, so I don’t imagine you’ve heard about it.’