He looked into her beautiful green eyes and wondered how long it would take before they ceased to sparkle.
“I’ve sent my brother an e-mail telling him all about you,” she said. “So now he’s got your car reg number, the number of your driver’s license, your name, civil registration number, and the address on the vehicle registration certificate. It’s not the sort of thing he normally deals with, but he’s inquisitive by nature. So if it turns out you’ve stolen anything from me, he’s going to find you. Get it?”
For a second, he was stunned. He wasn’t stupid enough to drive around with any document or credit card that might reveal his true identity. His sudden paralysis now was because until this moment he had never been in a situation where he could be linked to anything at all, and certainly he had never had the police lurking in the background. He found himself momentarily unable to grasp how he had got himself into this. What had he missed, where had he gone wrong? Was it really down to something as simple as not asking her what exactly her job in the local authority involved? He supposed that had to be it.
And now he was in a squeeze.
“I’m sorry, Isabel,” he said softly. “I’ve gone way over the mark here. Forgive me. I’m besotted with you, that’s all. Don’t think about what I said last night. I just didn’t know what to do. Was I supposed to tell you I was married with kids, or tell you lies? I’d lose everything back home if I really fell for you in a big way, and I almost did. I’ve been so on the verge, I needed to know everything about you. I couldn’t resist that, can’t you see?”
She looked at him scornfully as he considered what to do on his ice floe. The bear would hardly pounce without reason. If he drove away and never again showed himself in these parts, she would be unlikely to draw on her brother for information about him. Why should she? But if he killed her or abducted her, the police would already have something to go on. Even his most meticulous efforts to erase all traces of himself here would not be sufficient to remove that one pubic hair, that tiny semen stain, a fingerprint. They would put together a profile, no matter that they would be unable to find him in their registers. Burning the place down was unfeasible. The fire services might quickly extinguish the blaze, and someone might have seen him drive away. It was too much of a risk. And now there was a police officer by the name of Karsten Jønsson who was in possession of the license plate number of his van. He would have a description of the vehicle. Maybe she had even given her brother a description of him.
He stared blankly into space while she took stock of his movements. Though he was expert at sloughing his skin, though he always operated under one or another assumed identity, her e-mail may have contained exact details of his height and build, the color of his eyes, and perhaps even of more intimate parts of his body. He had no way of knowing what she had put in that mail, and that was where the whole thing imploded.
He looked into the harshness of her gaze, and it struck him that she was not a polar bear at all. She was a basilisk. Serpent, cockerel, and dragon in one venomous reptile. And if a man looked into the eyes of the basilisk, he would turn to stone. Even crossing its path would be enough to cause death by its noxious influence. No being could crow out its version of truth to the world like the basilisk. And only its own image was powerful enough to kill it. This he knew.
Therefore he said: “No matter what you might say, Isabel, I shall think of you. You’re so beautiful, such an amazing woman, I only wish I could have met you at some earlier time in my life. Now it’s too late. I’m sorry, and I apologize. I never intended to hurt you. You’re so lovely. I’m sorry.”
And then he brushed his fingers gently against her cheek. It seemed to work. Her lips quivered slightly.
“I think you should go now. I don’t want to see you again,” was what she said, though without conviction.
She would mourn the loss for a long time to come. What they had together was the kind of thing that didn’t come around so often at her age.
That was where he leaped from this ice floe to another. Neither the basilisk nor the polar bear would pursue him.
She let him go, and it wasn’t even seven o’clock.
16
He called his wife as usual just before eight, still holding back on the contentious issue but relating experiences unlived and feelings for her which at present he did not possess. Leaving Viborg, he stopped at a Løvbjerg supermarket and freshened himself up as best he could in the customer toilets before heading toward Hald Ege and on to Stanghede, where Samuel and Magdalena were waiting for him.
Nothing was going to stop him now. The weather was OK. Looking ahead, he would be there just before dark.
The family received him with the smell of fresh-baked bread and lofty expectations. Samuel had been training all morning despite his injured knee, and Magdalena stood with eyes sparkling and her thick hair in long waves glossy from eager brushing.
They were so ready.
“Do you think we should stop by the hospital first and let them have a quick look at Samuel’s knee, just to be on the safe side? I think we’ve time.” He swallowed the last bit of his bread roll as he glanced at his watch. It was a quarter to ten, and he knew they would decline.
Disciples of the Mother Church did not frequent hospitals if it could be avoided.
“No, it’s just a sprain, but thanks all the same.” Rachel handed him a coffee cup and indicated the milk on the table. He could feel free to help himself.
“So where is this karate tournament?” said Joshua. “Maybe I can come along later in the day, if I’ve got time?”
“Oh, leave off, Joshua.” Rachel swatted at him. “You know full well when you’ve got time and when you haven’t.”
Never, as far as he could make out.
“It’s in the sports hall at Vinderup,” he told the father. “The Bujutsu Club are organizing it. Perhaps there’s some more information on the Internet.”
There wasn’t, but then there was almost certainly no Internet in the house. Another one of those ungodly inventions the Mother Church shunned.
He put his hand to his mouth. “Oh, I’m sorry. How stupid of me. I forgot, you won’t have an Internet connection. It’s nothing but a nuisance, anyway.” He did his best to look repentant, noting that the coffee was decaf. It was all PC here. “But, yeah, it’s all going on in the sports hall at Vinderup.”
They waved. The whole family lined up in front of the farmhouse at the bend in the road, never again to rest in the peace and comfort of what once was. Smiling faces soon to contort in the pain of learning that the evils of this world cannot be kept at bay with weekly devotions and renunciation of the good things of modern life.
He did not feel sorry for them. They had chosen the pathway on which they would tread, and now it had crossed his own.
He looked at the two youngsters sitting on the seat next to him, waving back at their family.
“Have you got enough room, you two?” he asked as they drove through bare fields dashed with the dark stubble of maize. He stuck his hand into the side pocket of the door. His weapon lay at the ready. Not many would recognize it for what it was. It looked like the handle of an attaché case.
He beamed a smile when they nodded. They were sitting comfortably, and their minds were astray, unused to any departure from their quiet, restrictive lives. For them, this was a highlight.
There would be no difficulties here.
“I thought we might go by way of Finderup, just for the drive,” he said, offering them miniature chocolate bars. Against the rules it may have been, but nonetheless a way of establishing community. Community was security. And security made his work that much easier.
“Oh, I’m forgetting, aren’t I?” he said, noting their hesitation. “I’ve brought some fruit with us, too. Would you rather have a tangerine?”