Shadow of Fog Island

by Mariette Lindstein

  She picked up her phone and set off across the lawn, running full-speed through the park, towards home, because now she knew where that picture had been taken. She recognized the surroundings: the front door of her building. And now, certain she would find Dilbert’s lifeless body there, she howled in despair as she ran.

  As she approached the door, she caught sight of something white. Squinting, she saw the brown spots. That familiar shape. She saw movement, a head turning as the dog heard her coming. She dashed to him and scooped him up, crying tears of joy. But something wasn’t right. He hadn’t jumped up to greet her. His constantly wagging tail lay slack on the concrete. The dog was shaking like a leaf; his whole body trembling. Then she felt something warm and sticky on her hand. Blood spread across her palm and dripped onto her jeans. A tiny chunk had been clipped or cut from his always-pricked ear. Most of the blood had congealed, but in one spot it was dripping onto her hands. The images that came to her were gruesome. Someone must have held him down. He must have been so scared. It must have hurt so much. He must have been thinking about her, wondering why she wasn’t there to rescue him.

  At last Dilbert seemed to realize he was home, because he licked her face and his shaking began to subside. She carried him inside and held him tightly under one arm as she dug through her bag for the key.

  She sank onto the sofa with the dog, stroking his fur again and again. Then she called the veterinarian, who told her how to care for the wound until she could bring him in the next day. As she washed the injured ear she began to cry loudly, but that made Dilbert wriggle anxiously in her arms, so she forced herself to stop.

  Another ding came from her phone. She didn’t want to look but thought it might be a clue, so she extracted one hand from around the dog and looked at the message.

  It was a picture of her. Half-naked, about to pull on a pair of jeans. Her gaze wandered to the background: the sofa, the black blinds, and then the words. WE SEE YOU. ALWAYS. But she hardly had time to digest the meaning before she was on her feet. It was something about the image. It had been taken from above. The blinds in the background. Suddenly she knew without a doubt that this picture had been taken from inside the apartment.

  She tossed a blanket over Dilbert, who was dozing but trying to follow her movements through one cracked eye. Her eyes searched the walls for a vent near the ceiling – after all, she knew how everything worked at ViaTerra, knew where the tiny watching eyes had been placed. Discovering the vent way up high, she dragged a kitchen chair over and stood on it. It wasn’t hard to find, the little eye staring boldly at her. Enraged, she yanked the camera out of the vent so hard it fell from her hand and landed on the parquet. As she climbed down and bent over to pick up the camera, she wobbled and almost lost her balance. Black spots danced in her vision; her legs began to tremble and a wave of dizziness forced her to sink to the floor. But that didn’t stop the spinning. She heard herself utter a laugh, creepily shrill, and then she flat-out screamed. Dilbert jumped off the sofa in terror and tried to crawl into her embrace, but she couldn’t put her arms around him. Nothing seemed to work. Her arms were locked around her body in a spasmodic grip. Her legs felt like jelly. Her blood felt too hot as it throbbed through her veins. She tried to pull herself together. Tried to reach down to that inner strength, the last reserves she had always been able to count on.

  But it didn’t work.

  Everything had burst inside her, a silent, painful crash.

  26

  Oswald was in a good mood, feeling friendly and loving. Today he preferred to discuss their future together rather than talking shop. He pulled something from his pocket. Anna-Maria recoiled at first – she thought it was some sort of leftover food, like the lard sausage – but it was a clothespin.

  ‘I’ve kept it in my pocket since I arrived here,’ he said. ‘The old bitch dropped them all over the house. It reminds me of how disappointing life can be if you don’t look out for number one. We couldn’t even afford a washing machine.’

  ‘What old bitch?’

  ‘My mother. Now there was a person the world would have been better off without.’

  ‘Is she dead?’

  He had never spoken of his family before, and now she wanted to know more.

  ‘No, but she’s as good as. Dead to me, in any case. You’re not about to start interrogating me, are you?’

  ‘Of course not,’ she said, lowering her gaze.

  ‘Besides, it’s good to have around in case I need to make one of the imbecilic inmates here zip their lips.’

  He laughed and moved closer, pretending to trap her lips in the clothespin.

  ‘But seriously. There were good days too.’

  And then he told her about his childhood on Fog Island. The beautiful nature there. Places he wanted to show her. How even as a child, he’d known that life had grand plans for him. He went deeper into his spider analogy. One time he had pulled the wings off a bumblebee, and sure, it seemed horrifying, but didn’t all little boys do that sort of thing? In any case, it prompted him to realize that there were two types of insects. Some were cunning and dangerous like a scorpion. Did she know that scorpions killed up to five thousand people each year? Or like the lethal Japanese giant hornet – a swarm of those could eat up an animal in a matter of minutes. And the spider, absolute ruler of its web. But the clumsy little bumblebee was so unsuspecting, so easy to outwit. He had realized that the same went for people. You had to choose how you wanted to live your life or else, one day, your wings would be plucked off.

  ‘It feels like yesterday, all that,’ he said with a melancholy smile. The sad thing about life isn’t all the horrible stuff that happens but the fact that your life has passed you by before you even have time to think. Your time on earth is only a short breath in all of eternity. That’s why it’s so important that we spread the message of ViaTerra. Make it part of that very eternity.’

  Anna-Maria found this so moving that her throat ached with tears. That he would open up to her like this. She was almost certain he’d never done so with anyone else.

  They sat there chatting for an hour.

  He held her hand for a while. Drew her to her feet and embraced her. He began to unbutton her blouse, but when she tilted her head back for a kiss, he turned away.

  ‘Best not to take any risks. After all, we have our whole lives ahead of us once I get out.’ He grinned and buttoned her blouse again, with a suggestive wink.

  At last he said he had to get back to his biography. That writing was going well. She already had several publishing houses drooling over the rights, and when she told him that he seemed genuinely touched.

  ‘You’re a gem, Annie. How did I get so lucky?’

  When she returned home to her apartment, she was so excited that she didn’t notice the beeping. She didn’t hear the faint, persistent tone – like a whistle that was stuck on – until she’d taken off her jacket and shoes. She searched the apartment frantically until she remembered the recording device. The warning tone. And sure enough, a red light was blinking on it. Her brain froze until she realized what the sound meant.

  Goddamn fucking shit!

  Her hands trembling, she picked up the gadget, went back to the entryway, and deposited it in her handbag. She put her shoes back on and tossed on her coat – as she went down the stairs she realized she was wearing mismatched pumps, but time was of the essence.

  She got in the car, unsure, at first, of where to go. She drove around aimlessly until she happened to think of the small lake she sometimes rode to. The voice in her head was distracting; it almost made her drive off the road.

  This is your punishment. Your entire life will be ruined.

  There was no one by the lake. The water was smooth as a mirror, shining blue beyond the small dock. She took the gadget from her bag and threw it on the ground, then stomped on it until she had flattened it into a shapeless hunk of metal. Out on the end of the dock, she hurled it into the water. She watched it sink slowly and
vanish into the muck on the bottom. Standing still for a few minutes, she breathed heavily and gazed around. Still no one there.

  Nothing happened that night. The next day was Saturday. As she stared out at the city, watching the sun glitter on the rooftops, she exhaled. Detectives didn’t work on Saturdays. If they hadn’t come the day before, it must mean that they hadn’t traced the receiver. Now she had to figure out how to break this to Franz. Make him get rid of the recordings. She decided to call Skogome and ask for an early visit. Helga McLean was getting suspicious. She tossed out comments like ‘Does he really need to see a lawyer so often?’ But she couldn’t put off this visit. She had to warn Franz.

  As she reached for her phone, the doorbell rang. All at once, she knew. Before she even opened the door, she had played out the better part of the conversation that would take place. She had to be convincing.

  At the door were two police officers. One of them showed her ID and introduced herself and her colleague.

  ‘Are you Anna-Maria Callini?’

  ‘Yes, that’s me.’

  ‘May we come in?’

  She opened the door and assumed an expression of surprise.

  ‘Has something happened? Oh my God, did someone die?’

  ‘No, it’s nothing like that,’ said one officer, taking a seat on the white sofa set. The other leaned against the wall.

  ‘Could you have a seat? We need to show you something,’ said the first officer, gesturing at the easy chair across from the sofa. Anna-Maria quickly sat down, pressing her knees together and pulling her skirt over her legs so their trembling wouldn’t be noticeable.

  ‘Do you know a Sofia Bauman?’

  Anna-Maria acted puzzled, frowning and pretending to wrack her brains.

  ‘Do you mean the girl who testified against one of my clients?’

  ‘Exactly. Someone installed a spy camera in her apartment – a truly troubling situation – and sent her images taken from it.’

  He held out a phone showing an image of Bauman putting on jeans. She stared at the picture until she recognized the details of Bauman’s apartment. The blinds. The cheap furniture.

  It was in that exact moment that Anna-Maria almost fell into the trap. She lost her footing as different scenarios buzzed around in her mind. Lying about the camera was one thing. The realization that the images had, in some unimaginable way, ended up on someone’s phone was so overwhelming that she choked and ended up in a coughing fit that ended with a squeak. She couldn’t breathe. The officer who had been leaning against the wall came over to thump her on the back.

  ‘Are you okay?’

  ‘This is certainly creepy,’ she wheezed. ‘But why are you here?’

  ‘Because the camera was traced here, to your apartment, by our computer experts.’

  ‘That’s impossible. This is absurd! Surely you don’t think I had anything to do with it. That would be ridiculous. You’re welcome to search the apartment.’

  ‘We plan to,’ said the officer, handing her a warrant.

  They spent over an hour searching the apartment, stomping around with their shoes on, tracking dirt onto her floors and rugs. They opened and shut every damn drawer and every cabinet as she sat there holding back tears. Each time she tried to speak, to defend herself, an officer held up a hand.

  ‘We’ll deal with that when we’re done here.’

  Now her thoughts were running away with her. She wondered if she had been sloppy somehow. Left some part of the equipment behind. Or was there a DVD she’d forgotten to take with her? The officers turned her lovely apartment upside down. At last one of them came to sit on the sofa.

  ‘We didn’t find anything. I don’t suppose you hid it somewhere, or got rid of it?’

  By now she had gathered her courage; some of her attorney spirit had returned.

  ‘This is especially serious, what you’ve come here to accuse me of. Why on earth would I hide a camera in the apartment of someone I don’t even know? My God. I’m an attorney. Don’t you get it?’

  ‘Sure, but it’s not as if your client is a big fan of Bauman.’

  ‘Don’t you realize that this is a setup? Some IT guy did this to drag me through the mud. They know I defended Franz. You should look into what types of contacts Bauman has instead.’

  ‘She’s had to deal with an awful lot of harassment, were you aware of that?’

  ‘No, I certainly wasn’t. But it doesn’t surprise me, the way she’s spread lies about my client. Franz is a popular man, and he has contacts in many important circles.’

  The officer gave a protracted sigh.

  ‘Well, anyway, we didn’t find anything. We had to check, perhaps you understand. Would you like us to clean up after ourselves?’

  ‘No, I’ll take care of it.’

  She stood at the window, watching the patrol car leave the parking lot and turn onto the street. She felt empty and both ears were full of a persistent ringing. That had been a hell of a close call; her life had almost ended up in the trash. In the midst of her misery, one thought stuck with her: only Franz had had access to the recordings. There was no other explanation. She grabbed her phone and dialled the number to Skogome.

  McLean picked up.

  ‘You’re visiting again? You were just here yesterday.’

  ‘As if it’s any of your business,’ Anna-Maria snapped. ‘I have an important matter to take care of, and I want to see him this morning. That is the only time that will work for me.’

  McLean sighed.

  ‘Fine, come on over then.’

  She began to shout at him the instant she closed the door to the visitors’ room behind her. But Oswald was neither surprised nor angry. He just started laughing.

  ‘You want to drag the guard in here before we’ve even had a chance to talk?’

  ‘Jesus Christ, God damn it, this is terrible, how could you do this?’

  She threw herself at him and pounded his chest with her fists, shocked to find that she really was capable of attacking him. But it only made him laugh harder.

  ‘Quit that. What’s going on?’

  ‘How did you get the recordings out of here? I’ve felt every envelope you’ve sent, and there has never been any sort of hard object.’

  ‘No, that’s true. Why would I do something so stupid?’

  ‘Someone copied the contents from one of them and emailed a picture to Bauman. The police came sniffing around my apartment today. They wrecked everything. If I hadn’t gotten rid of the receiver, my life would have become pure hell. Can you explain yourself?’

  A few flecks of spit flew from her lips and hit his cheek, which made her feel ashamed and even more miserable.

  ‘Maybe you should check with your buddy. Damian, wasn’t that his name? He’ll do just about anything if the price is right. And he sure is awfully good at breaking into apartments. Or perhaps you gave him a key?’

  ‘What? How did you end up in touch with him?’

  ‘I’m sure you can work that out for yourself, Little Miss Smartypants. You’re my messenger, after all.’

  Anna-Maria sank into the small yellow easy chair, buried her head in her hands, and began to cry. There was nothing else she could do. Her powerlessness had completely destroyed her.

  ‘You can always ask him, but it seems likely he’ll deny everything,’ Oswald’s voice reached her, now dry and cynical.

  ‘I trusted you,’ she managed to say. Her voice came out as squeaky as a little kid’s, but she couldn’t help it.

  Oswald came over to her and pulled her to her feet. He threw his arms around her, rocking her in his embrace. That warm, firm, safe embrace she had longed for so much.

  ‘There, there, calm down. I’ll explain why it was necessary. Surely you know I would never deliberately hurt you?’

  ‘But this can’t continue,’ she sobbed, burying her face in the soft prison sweater, which smelled like burned fibres and cheap detergent. She took a deep breath, trying to get a whiff of his real scent, whi
ch was always so clean and fresh.

  He placed one finger under her chin, lifting her face.

  ‘No, my dear Annie. Everything has only just begun. Now comes the fun part!’

  27

  The first thing Sofia saw was the low, green mountains along the coast, which gave way to gentle rolling hills further inland. A wide, deep valley stretched as far as the eye could see into the distance. The Golden Gate Bridge appeared, and then the contours of San Francisco took shape. Skyscrapers towering at the edge of the sea, swept in a light haze – or maybe it was just that her eyes weren’t used to this new light and couldn’t quite focus. There were several islands in the ocean, one with what looked like a fortress – that must be Alcatraz.

  The day was sunny, but a curtain of fog rested at sea, past the Golden Gate Bridge, as if it were waiting to sneak under the bridge and swallow the whole city. As the plane descended over the peninsula, the city seemed enormous – but she’d read somewhere that the cities around the bay all melted into one another, so you never knew where one stopped and the next began. Really, only the skyscrapers separated San Francisco from this jumble of buildings. Both sides of the bay were edged with houses, high-rises, streets, and highways, in a chaotic scene that seemed to have been erected according to no plan whatsoever.

  They flew over another bridge, this one so tall that a ship was sailing under it. The water shimmered green. The rippling waves seemed so close that she felt dizzy, but at that moment there was a thud as the plane landed. She’d been in the air for over ten hours and hadn’t gotten a wink of sleep, but she wasn’t tired at all.

  Here we go, she thought. My new life can begin.

  It had all happened so fast. She’d decided to move the night they cut Dilbert’s ear. The walls she had built, the constant denial that she wasn’t in top shape mentally, that the harassment had even affected her – it had all come crumbling down that evening. As soon as she regained control of her body – whether it took ten minutes or an hour, she didn’t know – she had lain down on the sofa and sobbed into Dilbert’s fur until she was hoarse. Croaking like a frog, she called her parents and asked them to pick her up. She didn’t even want to wait for the police to arrive; she couldn’t stand to spend another moment in the apartment.