"I'll find a solution," I said. "Of course you have to have water. I'm not a malicious person." His head began shaking faintly. Then he started coughing helplessly, and a gurgling sound came from his throat. His eyes rolled back into his head. And I thought: Now he's going to die right before my eyes. And that would have been terrible, but at the same time, it would have been beautiful and magnificent and agonising. But he didn't die. I plucked at the scarf with two fingers and pulled it down.
*
The resemblance to Andreas was striking. Nicolai Winther was about 50, tall and slender, with a beak of a nose and eyes that were set deep and close together, beneath delicate thin eyebrows. His hair was long and curly.
"What's he got himself into? Don't you know anything?" He fumbled with the buttons on his jacket, twisting them around and around so that at any moment they might scatter all over the room.
"No. Unfortunately. But there's no reason to believe that anything has happened to him.
Sometimes we all need an escape. A little time for ourselves when we don't feel obligated to explain it to the whole world. It happens all the time, and Andreas is an adult. But his mother is worried and it's our job to serve the people."
That was quite a little speech, Skarre thought, taking a deep breath.
"Two days," said Winther. "What the hell have they got into!"
"They? You mean Zipp?"
"Who else?"
"I should remind you that Zipp is at home. He doesn't know anything."
Winther had a coughing fit, and intermittent snorts of laughter. "Don't come here and tell me stories like that. Those two are inseparable."
"Well, yes," Skarre agreed. "It's true they were together on September 1, too. But they parted company around midnight, and no-one has seen Andreas since then."
Winther tried to relax. "I'm sure he's crossed the line. I've been expecting it."
"What do you mean by that?" Skarre pricked up his ears.
"Something was bound to happen sooner or later. I have always known it."
"How could you know that?"
"Because . . ." He stared at the floor. "Because there's something about Andreas. Just something. I don't know what it is. He has no ambition." He walked a few paces away. "It's hard to explain. You don't have any children?"
He looked at Skarre's youthful face.
"No. As you can see, I'm just a kid," he said with a smile, which made Winther grin, in quite an amiable manner.
"You've talked to his mother. I suppose you've had an earful."
"She's very worried," said Skarre loyally.
"And unprepared. I've been telling her for a long time. He's a strange boy. I hope to God he hasn't got mixed up with drugs or anything like that. If he's just off on a drinking binge, that's fine. He's probably drunk. Have you checked the hospitals and places like that?"
"That's always the first thing we do. There's quite simply no trace of him. Of course, we're expecting him to turn up at any moment. But to be on the safe side, we want to talk to everyone who is connected. When you say that he's different what do you mean by that?"
Winther thought long and hard. "No, what I mean is .. ." he said at last. "It all started out so well. We had a handsome and healthy boy, and we gave him everything a boy should have. With all the opportunities. And he grew up the way most boys do. He was never sick, he never misbehaved or was difficult to deal with. He did well at school, although he wasn't brilliant. But he has no plans or goals in life. He never shows any enthusiasm for anything. Never shows any enthusiasm," he muttered, as if astonished at his own words.
"He's never been interested in cars or bikes or the sort of things most boys care about. He seems quite content to sit around with Zipp. Andreas has no interests at all. Nothing seems to make an impression on him."
He rubbed at his gaunt jaw with a rough hand.
"And you know what?" He stared at Skarre. "That scares me. What's going to become of him?" Skarre had never heard anyone deliver such a frank and non-idealistic description of his own child before. And Winther wasn't doing it out of malice. Just that he felt flummoxed by something beyond his understanding.
"He walks around half asleep, but I have the feeling that something is ticking away inside him, lying dormant. Or maybe that's just wishful thinking." They were both silent for a while. Skarre tried to place Andreas in some sort of category, but he couldn't find one.
"Are you and Andreas close?"
Winther walked to the window.
"He doesn't let anyone get close."
"What about Zipp?"
"I'm surprised that he chose Zipp. Andreas is far and away his superior. Zipp is forever running to keep up. I wonder if he needs him for some reason." Skarre made a few notes.
"I don't really know him," Winther went on.
"He's my son, but I don't really know him. Sometimes I think there's no-one inside him to know." He said this with his eyes lowered, as if he felt ashamed.
Then he sat down, resting his chin on his hands and fixing his gaze on Skarre's knees.
"Surely he must have some interests," Skarre said in a feeble attempt to offer some form of consolation.
"He watches a lot of videos. In fact, I think he watches the same one over and over again. It's some kind of futuristic film. Don't you find that sick?"
"Not at all," Skarre said. "Haven't you heard about the man in London who goes to see Cats every single Saturday and has done so for eight years now?"
Winther answered with a grave crooked smile.
"I'll have to take your word for that. But otherwise, I suppose that Andreas does have some interest in music. Well, not singing or playing himself, just listening to music. And not live music. Recorded music, on his stereo. A little more bass here, a little less treble there. Special speaker cones. Gold cables. Things like that. Maybe it's not really the music."
"Sound," Skarre ventured. "He's intrigued by sound?"
"Is that something which can intrigue a person?"
"Of course. It's a science."
"But he's not passionate about it," Winther said.
"Just interested. He has a job and earns his wages, but he never has any money. He shares what he makes with Zipp. Why in heaven's name would he do that?"
"Because he's a good friend?"
Winther looked at him in surprise.
"So what do you have in mind when you say that Andreas might have got mixed up in something?" Skarre said.
Winther closed his eyes. "What do I mean? Well, that whatever it is ticking inside him has finally exploded."
He smiled at his own melodramatic words.
"As far as you know, has he ever been involved in anything criminal?"
"I have a feeling that he's tried a thing or two, together with Zipp."
"What gives you that feeling?"
"I just have it; it's the kind of thing you can sense with your own child. I've told his mother about it, but she doesn't want to listen. She wants proof."
"So would we, but we're talking about a goodlooking, well-functioning young man," Skarre said.
"Someone who gets up each day and goes to work and spends his free time with a close friend. And someone who has a clean record, because I have to admit that we checked on that straightaway. So it's hard to see what the problem could be." Skarre had been prepared for almost anything. But not for what Winther said next.
"I'm going to tell you something." Winther stood up. "Maybe you don't think it's so strange, but you don't have children. Having children flings you into a whole other world, and I'm not exaggerating. Not having children, you live in a different reality from the one I live in."
"All right, I'll grant you that," murmured Skarre.
"I didn't think much about it when it happened, but I've been thinking about it now. Every time Andreas had to go to the doctor or dentist – to get an injection, or a tooth filled – the kinds of things that children need all the time. We were ready for a fuss, that he would be scared. Scream and shout. Or at least be a little nervous. But he never was. He didn't care. He would say 'All right', and off we'd go. And he would sit there as prim as a preacher while the dentist drilled or the doctor gave him an injection. Never made a sound. And I was proud of him, thought he was so brave. But now, when I think back, it seems rather . . . abnormal." You didn't get the son you wanted, thought