“I was wondering about something you said. My father is a highly placed civil servant, too, and he’s always said that if there’s one place they keep an extra close eye on travel expenditures, it’s in public administration. Obviously one is out traveling more in the foreign office than other departments, but I still find it odd that both you and Stark made a trip all the way to Africa, to the same region, independently of each other, and within the space of a few days. That must have been dreadfully expensive. I know the Baka project was Stark’s, and that you had other items on your agenda, but why didn’t you investigate matters yourself instead of sending Stark? That was my first question. The second is this: What were those other important projects, exactly, the ones you failed to get sorted out down there? Wouldn’t Stark have been able to deal with them since he was on his way there anyway? Please don’t take it wrong, but weren’t those two trips pretty much simultaneous? And finally, are your traveling activities in this department really that uncoordinated? Haven’t you got a separate budget ledger for travel expenditures that we could have a look at? If so, we’d like to see it on Monday together with the other things we talked about.”
Eriksen had sat quite still during the long bombastic monologue. The lad was a fool, no doubt about it, but his questions were relevant. The two trips he was referring to had indeed taken a lot of explaining to the accountants. It had cost him a reprimand, and even though it had happened long ago, it certainly wouldn’t speak in his favor if anyone decided to take a closer look.
Therefore he ignored the fledgling’s smug self-satisfaction and smiled back at him. “Naturally we have strict guidelines when it comes to trips abroad, and of course we require detailed résumés of each trip, as well as detailed reports as to their purpose, and in addition we ask which account the trip’s expenditure is to be drawn from and why. So yes, of course, you can see it all on Monday.”
The guy looked like he’d just made a scoop, which indeed he might have were it not for the fact that the documentation he required would never be forthcoming. And the bird would have flown in the meantime.
He extended a hand to Eriksen and was about to turn and leave when suddenly he raised a finger in the air. “Oops, I’d better not forget it this time,” he said, and stooped down to pick a gray scarf off the floor before finally saying good-bye.
Eriksen stared a long time at the closed door before he was convinced there would be no more surprises from that quarter.
There was no doubt whatsoever in his mind.
After this, today was definitively his last day at work.
–
From the moment he clapped eyes on Gordon as the spindly spire came lolloping along the basement corridor, Carl could tell by his gormlessly gleeful expression that something was seriously amiss.
“See, I got it, Carl,” he said with a grin, holding up his scarf. “You do realize it was a trick, yeah?” he added, flopping down on the chair opposite. “You wouldn’t let me get a word in, so I needed an excuse to go back.”
“Run that by me again.” Carl felt his nostrils begin to flare. “You mean to say you went back to question him without me being present?”
“Yeah, I’m sorry if you don’t approve, but I shook him up, Carl. I pointed out to him that it was illogical for two people from the same ministry to travel to the same part of the world independently of each other at almost the same time. He may have smiled when I mentioned it, but I’m pretty darn sure I gave the man something to think about. I really believe I made some headway.”
At that moment something inside Carl snapped. It wasn’t just this twerp and his outrageous meddling, it was downright desperation. A searing sensation in his soul that manifested itself in a snarl as his heart skipped a beat and sweat trickled from his pores.
“Fuck off out of here, you idiot,” he yelled, upending his desk and everything on it in the man’s direction.
Gordon fell backward against the wall but got to his feet immediately, looking at Carl as if he’d gone insane, before giving him a wide berth and retreating through the door.
“And this time, you dickhead, you keep your fucking mouth shut!” Carl bellowed, as the man vanished.
Carl stared down at his desk that now lay on its side, a deluge of folders and documents strewn across the floor.
Then he felt a jab of pain in the region of his heart that made him gasp for air but in vain. The feeling of suffocation was profound and impossible to suppress. His fingers cramped up, his arms clasped themselves tight around his diaphragm, and his legs trembled as though his body had suddenly been exposed to extreme cold.
“What’s going on?” he heard Rose’s voice cry out, as he slid off his chair onto the floor, legs splayed.
He sensed her presence, and that she immediately asked him where it hurt. But he couldn’t feel a thing as she pulled him over to the wall and sat him up against it.
She put her hand on his shoulder and suddenly he heard himself sobbing profoundly as he felt an increasing undulation in his midriff.
“What’s happened, Carl?” she asked him calmly, as she cradled his head.
At first he couldn’t reply. Her skin and scent and breathing made him hold his breath. Her nearness, his angst, and all that seemed so inexplicable overwhelmed everything else.
“Do you want me to call for help, Carl?”
He shook his head as his sobs subsided into abrupt, soundless intakes of breath.
“Has this happened to you before?” she asked.
He tried to shake his head, but couldn’t.
“Sort of, maybe,” he stuttered after a moment, not knowing if it was true.
Then she asked him to listen to his own breathing and close his eyes. “You don’t need the world at the moment, Carl,” she said gently, drawing him close and holding him tight. “We’ll just sit here until you’re feeling better. I’m not going anywhere, OK? We’re family, whether we like it or not.”
He nodded and closed his eyes.
Apart from lingering on the thought of it actually being a woman and not just Rose who was soothing him, he listened to his breathing and shut out the world.
33
For Boy, this was a day filled with considerations about leaving.
The years he had spent in the service of Brage-Schmidt had been rewarding. He had no cause for complaint, but times had changed.
His suitcase lay packed on the bed in his room back at the consulate. Suits had been selected from his walk-in closet, and watches and jewelry neatly placed in his little strongbox. His plane ticket for the flight tomorrow evening was already bought.
He hadn’t discussed his decision with Brage-Schmidt for good reason, but this was the way things had to be. It was best to stop while the going was good.
It had been a creative period in his life. While his employer often presented him merely as his private secretary and personal assistant, the reality of the matter was that behind the scenes he had been given free rein to deal with any problems or situations that might arise. This had led to blackmail of overzealous business contacts, false accusations leveled against and among competitors and deals to smuggle gems with a supplier of airline lifejackets. There was also the time five years ago when he recruited Mammy and a couple of her boys to feign a robbery of Karrebæk Bank in order to cover up a fatal liquidity crisis. Not to mention the numerous threats to public officials and insurance providers in nearly a dozen different countries. Yes, during his association with Brage-Schmidt he’d been able to deliver the goods, including murders and kidnappings farmed out to local or global subcontractors.
And now he had to perform one of these tasks himself, for his own sake as well as his employer’s. Just this one last time and then he would be gone. That was the plan.
He had followed Mammy’s movements all day. She had already deployed decoys-ostensibly disabled individuals in wheelchairs-at strategic locations in the city, ready to pounce on Marco if he should happen by. In Østerbro her crew had beaten up a handful of Ukrainians for refusing to take orders from them, and at every S-train station and some of the busiest bus stops men had been posted, with the promise of a ten-thousand-euro reward if they apprehended the boy.