Iben has no tears left. All three lie still and listen.
Then Cathy speaks. ‘Iben. You’re a survivor.’
This time there are fewer voices in the choir. Some of the men must have left, setting out early in the morning. Iben manages to pick out seven voices.
No one comes in with a morning meal. Iben is dozing when she is alerted by the sound of running feet. Four shots ring out. Men are shouting in Swahili.
Then nothing.
All is quiet again.
Iben peeps through the doorway. Militiamen are walking from hut to hut, investigating each one. Their uniforms are different from anything Iben has seen before, neither police nor army. Someone must have dispatched a special unit to free the hostages. There are about twenty of them. She can’t work out who is the leader until the soldiers haul two Luos from a hut and push them down on the ground in front of a man with glasses. He addresses the Luos and then turns away to give the soldiers new orders.
The guard in front of their hut has disappeared. Iben stands in the doorway and peeps round the cloth, but she doesn’t go out. At the far end of the encampment eight unarmed Luos are standing in a line.
Now Cathy and Mark have joined Iben and stick their heads around the other side of the curtain.
Some of the soldiers march the Luos along to the biggest hut and shove them roughly inside. Omoro is among these eight men.
His eyes widen when he sees Iben. He calls to her: ‘Iben! Iben!’
Silence.
The leader of the special unit walks towards the hostages. He is smiling. ‘Everything in order?’
Iben finds it hard to look at him and hard to concentrate on what he’s saying. She hears gurgling noises from the big hut. Maybe she replies something to his question. Afterwards she can’t recall.
The soldiers come out again. They haven’t been in there long. Their clothes and hands look clean but Iben notices the tops of their shoes where the leather is stained red.
None of the hostage-takers emerges from the big hut.
35
Iben cannot figure out what Paul is up to.
Just after Gunnar left DCGI, Paul told her to drop her work on Chechnya for the next issue of Genocide News and concentrate on Turkey instead. She has no problem with that — except that Paul is also insisting that Anne-Lise is to be her co-editor.
That’s simply too much. Anne-Lise has never done anything journalistic, never written or edited anything. She is sure to run to Paul every time she can’t grasp one of Iben’s decisions, with the likely result that she’ll ruin Iben’s relationship with Paul and, in the long run, with the board as well.
After the meeting Anne-Lise said she had a headache and went home — something to be grateful for at least. Now Iben has twenty-four hours to get over her annoyance before her new teammate returns.
Paul has closed the door to his office, so there’s no need to escape to the kitchen for a discussion with Malene. Camilla can hear what they’re saying, but it doesn’t matter. Malene acts distant and uninterested. Obviously she is still displeased about Iben voicing her opinion of Gunnar earlier.
After chatting for a while, Malene says she’ll pop down and get something nice for their afternoon coffee. She takes her bag with her, which means that the trip is just a cover for her to talk to Gunnar on her mobile.
When Malene returns, she has spoken with Gunnar, as predicted.
‘He’s really annoyed. During the meeting here, Gunnar realised that Paul didn’t have a mandate from the board as he’d said he did. It didn’t take long for Gunnar to figure out that Paul was trying to use him in some internal power struggle.’ Malene looks at Iben, not acknowledging that she was right about Gunnar after all. ‘He turned down Paul’s offer of a seat on the board.’
When Iben gets home that evening she tries not to think about the project with Anne-Lise. She checks her email and answering machine, and wonders for the umpteenth time if it would be right to phone Gunnar.
She slices a handful of vegetables, pours olive oil on top and adds some spices. After microwaving the mixture she eats it with pieces of crisp-bread while watching TV. She could say that she wants to hear Gunnar’s thoughts on the meeting today. She’s just a dedicated employee, nothing wrong with that, is there? That’s what she could tell Malene, if she asks her.
Standing next to the heavy, wine-coloured armchair she inherited from her grandmother, she dials his number. He answers the phone.
‘Gunnar, I hope this isn’t a bad time?’
‘No. Not at all. It’s good to hear from you.’
But Iben doesn’t learn much about the meeting because Gunnar says that he’s in a hurry, he’s on his way out.
Iben feels suddenly deflated. But then she thinks it’s just as well to know that he’s not interested in her. No need for any more rows with Malene.
Gunnar explains that he has promised an old friend to go to a showing of the friend’s documentary about a development project in Uganda. The film-maker is going to give a brief talk about his work and afterwards the audience will join in a debate about both the film and the project. Would Iben like to come along?
The answer seems to stick in her throat. One of her hands is scratching at the back of the old armchair, her body tense. She feels a familiar shiver, almost like fear. She covers the mouthpiece and breathes a huge sigh. No criminal this time, but she looks around her all the same.
They agree to meet in half an hour at the Nørrebro Street office of the development organisation Ibis. When Iben arrives, Gunnar is waiting for her. He looks happy to see her and introduces her to his friend.
The noise of the crowd milling around in the lecture theatre is quite different from the earnest atmosphere of the DCGI. The aid activists, and the audience in general, are colourfully dressed, talk in loud voices, laugh and call out greetings to people they last met on field projects abroad. Almost everyone is tanned.
A few older men wander about, working the crowd. Like Gunnar, these men seem to have many friends and acquaintances in the audience, the majority of whom are young, female and often strikingly attractive. Three women chatting near a window catch sight of Gunnar and wave. He looks delighted and waves back.
Iben keeps wondering how many of these people have slept with each other. In a hut in Zimbabwe, for instance, or in a shack in El Salvador. Or in someone’s flat, late one night after a party. It follows that some of them might have been with Gunnar. She can’t let go of that thought either. She regrets putting on a prim, cream-coloured blouse, which had seemed so perfect. Still, she can’t think what else she might have chosen to wear.
Gunnar introduces her to another ‘old friend’ even though she looks quite young. The woman leans into Gunnar as they talk. Iben can’t figure out why this girl’s turquoise dress is somehow provocative, given that it is high-necked and not at all figure-hugging.
Fortunately Iben hits it off with many of the people she meets. They still remember her from the media coverage six months ago — a Kenyan hostage crisis is especially likely to stick in the minds of Africa activists, of course.
Gunnar has reserved two good seats in the middle of the theatre. After a very brief lecture, the film starts up.
Iben and Gunnar are sitting side by side in the dark on the hard wooden seats. They do not touch. Iben leaves one hand resting on her thigh. It’s the hand closest to him, only a few centimetres away. Her hand senses the warmth of his body, but neither of them moves. Even the air between them is still.