by Rachael Blok
‘People are strange, Lois. You know that. People are the game changers. To play and be played.’
Lois thinks of Obaidur and of Aksel. Was his death karma? Aksel hadn’t got away with anything.
‘I’m sorry, Lois. I’m sorry I didn’t question Aksel. He told me of his idea for the lens and said he didn’t want to take the credit. That after what happened to Dad, he wanted us to benefit. I believed him.’ She shrugs. ‘He could have brought us all down. He could have brought the whole thing crashing down. Just like Dad.’
Lois is cold now, spent. A bird swoops low; the day has a chill to it. A gust of wind feels like ice, and it blows straight through her.
65
MAARTEN
Leaning back in his chair, Maarten takes in the fields. Autumn is a funny time. A waiting time. The earth has a mini death in winter, comes back to life in the spring.
One word difference. It’s all he has. One word. There’s no way he could build a case around just that. And who is to say who heard what? Filip said it was something different entirely. No one is convicted on one word, heard differently by two different people.
‘Sir? Shall I get the cars ready? Shall we go to the station?’
‘I’ll need a bit longer,’ he says, picking up another sandwich. ‘Adrika, in a minute I need to run through something with you. First, I need to check with Niamh. See what they’ve found.’
*
‘Maarten.’ Niamh drinks from a bottle of water. ‘That was one big house.’
He smiles. ‘Anything?’
Nodding, she swallows and gestures to the kitchen. ‘Same poison. In a milk jug and in a coffee cup. Did you say Sophie Atwood poured the milk this morning?’
Maarten nods. ‘Yes. Three witnesses for that.’
‘So, there you go. Same poison found in her toilet bag, same poison found in Aksel’s blood, and I would guess, Filip’s.’
Looking up the stairs, Maarten sees SOCO heading down. ‘You all done?’
‘Yes, they can go back in. If you dare let them! I’d be running from this house if it was me.’
Maarten laughs hollowly.
‘You need to get changed,’ Niamh says, walking backwards, swigging the water. ‘Is that Schmidt’s vomit? Snappy.’
Glancing down, Maarten takes off the jacket. His stomach turns.
Adrika enters the main door. ‘Ready?’
Nodding. ‘Go and tell them to head in, and then I need to talk to you. We’ve had a game plan change.’
66
LOIS
Dusk is setting in early. Lois glances at the kitchen clock and it’s almost four. It will be dark in half an hour. The day has almost passed. This weekend is almost over.
Marieke, Ebba and Iqbal all sit. There’s a jug of water on the table, and no one speaks.
It’s over, Lois thinks. Everything’s over. She can see it in their faces. They are done.
Maarten enters, talking to the other officer with the shiny dark bob.
‘So, if you can get a statement?’ he’s saying.
The officer nods, glancing at a pad. ‘And he heard what Aksel said, on the helicopter?’
Maarten stretches, looks tired. ‘Yes. Sarah said we’d find it interesting. She didn’t want to say over the phone.’
‘I’ll get right to it, sir.’
Pulling out a chair, Maarten sits down. It’s like he’s waiting for something. There’s a fruit bowl in the centre of the table. He pulls out an apple and holds it. Something about this bothers Lois. She’s desperate for everyone to just leave. She thinks she will scream if he starts to eat an apple.
‘The cars are arriving to take you all to the station for the final statements,’ he says. ‘Before we all head off, I just wanted to say a big thank you to Ebba and Lois. I know it’s not the weekend you had planned.’ His smile is real.
‘I’ve just got one last question. Dhaka. I know most of you were there at the same time – when you and Iqbal met?’ Maarten looks at Lois.
‘Yes,’ she says, surprised. Then she tenses. Is he going to charge Archipelago? Will they lose it all? Hurriedly, she lists: ‘Ebba and I went to see the factories. That’s where I met Iqbal. And I found out that Aksel was there too.’
‘And Richard,’ Iqbal says.
Lois wonders what is coming. Something is coming.
Ebba frowns. Her skin is practically translucent now. Bloodless.
They just all need to leave, Lois thinks. They are killing Ebba.
The doorbell rings. ‘That might be the first car,’ Maarten says, standing up. ‘I’ll get it.’
67
MAARTEN
Walking across the wide hall with its thick rugs, its bright velvet curtains, Maarten opens the door to Sunny. ‘Great. Nearly done. Can you stay here?’
‘Of course. I won’t move.’ Sunny nods, flicking his hair.
‘Thanks, Sunny. Any news on Sophie Atwood’s lawyer?’
Sunny shakes his head. ‘Nah, nothing. They’re coming from Holland. It’ll be tomorrow at the earliest.’
Nodding, Maarten thinks of her in the cell. If he’s right, she might be out by tonight.
The sun has dimmed. The well-lit reception hall is darker now, and he flicks on a light.
‘Stay here,’ he says. ‘We’ll need you in a bit.’
*
Walking back into the kitchen, the sun falling outside, the air is tighter. Maarten looks from Iqbal to Lois, to Marieke.
‘Where is Ebba?’ he asks, glancing round the room.
‘I don’t know.’ Lois stands up. ‘I didn’t see her leave. She must have gone to the toilet.’
There’s a scent change. Maarten sniffs again. He’s been waiting for evidence. Stirring for evidence. Some kind of evidence.
Smoke.
68
IQBAL
The smell. The smell is back, and the taste of pennies floods his mouth.
‘Fire!’ he shouts. ‘There’s fire! Quick, everyone out!’ He runs to the door that leads out to the garden, unbolts it, and it flies open, banging hard on the stone of the house. He shouts louder, ‘Now, out!’
‘Ebba?’ Lois calls, looking round. ‘Where’s Ebba? Has she gone upstairs?’
‘Lois, out!’ Iqbal repeats. He is sweating, and the dizziness is back.
Maarten calls, ‘Iqbal, I’ve got this. You go out with everyone. I’ll look for Ebba.’
But Iqbal can see Lois running into the house, not out of it.
‘Lois!’ he screams.
‘Iqbal, please. Can you look after everyone here? Get them away. I have officers inside the house. You can go.’ Maarten’s hand is on Iqbal’s arm, and it’s his height more than anything. He is persuaded. The dizziness is all-consuming.
The guests run out. Marieke trips and falls, and Iqbal pulls her up.
‘Iqbal, what’s happening?’ she screams.
The factory walls are back. The heat of the burning fabrics – cheap material, the plastic polyester that catches like dry timber, like fire starters.
69
LOIS
‘Ebba!’ Lois shouts as she runs towards the hall, past the snug. She glances through doors as she runs – no sign of Ebba.
She hears a cry, back in the snug, and she runs.
Ebba stands, her hands up to her face. She screams again, staring at the fireplace.
It’s been set every morning. And now it blazes upwards, outwards. Flames have leapt and caught the kindling, which burns. The sofas, soft and velvet, smoulder. The rug is on fire, and the flames stretch towards the curtains.
‘What’s happened!’ Lois screams. She runs and grabs Ebba’s arm. ‘Come on! Let’s get out!’
Ebba holds some papers in her hands. She steps forward and throws them in the fire.
‘Ebba, come on!’ Lois pulls her arm, hard and firm.
But Ebba doesn’t move. ‘I think there are more upstairs. I need to check… I took his briefcase… It’s in my room. I hid it in our secret panel.’
‘What are you talking about? Come on! Get out of here!’
‘No. Lois, I need to go upstairs. I told the blond officer in the hall that Maarten wanted him. We have to be quick. There’s not much time!’
‘How has this all happened?’ Lois looks round the room. Tiny trails of fire burn in lines down the centre of the rug. They spring outwards.
‘The whisky,’ Ebba says. She grabs both of Lois’s hands. ‘Then I threw the match, and a box of firelighters—’
‘The whole box!’
‘Yes, I need it all to be burnt, Lois! We only stand a chance if they can’t read it!’
‘What are you talking about, Ebbs? What’s going on?’ Staring, aghast, Lois sees the decanter on the floor. Its crystal lid is flung close to the logs, and it’s empty. ‘Fuck! Come on, Ebba!’ She pulls again.
‘I had no choice. He knows. I hid the letters here, in the gardening book. It’s only me who likes gardening. I knew no one else would ever open it. I stuck the edges of a few pages together to make a pocket. No one would ever find it. Even the police. I put them in there. But I haven’t had a chance to go through his briefcase. I hid it in the wall panel, the one we used to hide our treasures in. There’s no way they will have found it. I need to go! Quick!’
‘What letters? Ebba? Come on!’
But Ebba has fled the room. Lois looks round, sees the water jug and throws it at the fire. But the whisky must have splashed everywhere, and the flames are too hungry. The firelighters have all caught. The whole kindling box, the magazines on the coffee table…
It’s spreading. It curves up and out of the open window. The wooden sash, the wisteria… Lois can’t breathe. The panic sets in. She’s tumbling.
No. No one will rescue her this time. She can get herself out. She needs to save Ebba.
70
IQBAL
There is heat behind them. The back of the house has caught, and the wisteria that climbs up and round the brickwork is flaring quickly, searing up and over the window frames, reaching the roof where moss hides in the guttering. The flames leap from the building like they’re trying to reach the moon.
The clouds are dark now, and an explosion blisters overhead, rockets reaching for the heavens. Piles of colour thrown, heaped into the sky. Fireworks have begun early at the Rugby club nearby. The whole sky is burning.
He looks up. The sisters’ rooms are above them. If Lois can’t use the stairs, she could always jump. He starts pulling cushions from the garden chairs; he searches for anything that might break her fall.
‘Help me!’ he shouts. For the second time that weekend, the fire crews are on their way. But they might not be fast enough. ‘Help me!’
And they need to fight the fire. Not just run from it. He needs to face it.
‘Come on!’ Iqbal shouts, and he can hear the distant sound of sirens as he runs for the hose. His hands tremble. Flames shoot from the roof. Colour bursts in the sky above them. The world is ablaze.
71
LOIS
‘Ebba!’ The main hallway is clear – the front door is closed and the hall empty. Ebba had looked like she would fade away. And smoke is already seeping towards the stairs.
‘Ebba!’ Lois screams again. The curtains on the main stairs are lit. Velvet – catching the sparks from outside. Tiny flames. The window in the hall is open. The wisteria must have caught.
On either side of the huge window on the curving staircase the heat is growing by the second.
She doesn’t know where Ebba has gone, but she knows where the secret panel is. She runs upstairs: Ebba’s room.
The heat beats as she rises. She knows already that she will struggle to get downstairs again. The velvet has welcomed the flames. Allowed them to settle in, take hold.
The fire rises upwards quickly, like a snake, darting its head, its tongue.
‘Where are you?’ she cries. Not again. This can’t be happening again.
There’s a shout below her. ‘Lois! Come down! We’ll take care of it!’ It’s Maarten. ‘Sunny?’ he’s shouting. ‘Where are you?’
Lois makes it to the landing. Up here is barely smoky, the fire from the main curtains, ablaze below her, hasn’t yet caught. She will trust Ostle House to protect them. She runs forward, to Ebba’s room.
‘Ebba!’ she screams, pushing the door open. It rebounds off the wall and the bang is loud. She pulls it shut, to keep out the flames, the smoke at bay.
‘Ebba?’
Ebba stands by the window, looking across the lawn.
‘What are you doing?’ Lois says. ‘We’ve got to get out!’
‘It’s empty.’
Lois stares at Ebba’s feet. A briefcase has been upended. Pens, papers are strewn on the floor.
‘He said he’d made copies. But I think he was lying.’ She rubs her head. ‘I think that’s all the evidence now.’
‘What are you talking about, Ebbs? We need to get out!’
Ebba talks as though to herself, rubbing her hands up and down her face.
‘Richard is awake. He must have heard what Aksel said on the helicopter. I heard it. Filip got it wrong. It won’t be long. I need to plan.’
‘Ebba, what are you talking about?’ Still thinking of the fire, rising, Lois isn’t really listening.
‘I killed Aksel, Lois. It was me. Don’t you know that by now?’
Lois stares. Frozen.
‘I had to kill him, Lois. I just had to. It was the only way to save our company. To save us! It’s the only thing we have.’
There are so many things to say, and Lois can’t think where to begin.
72
MAARTEN
‘Sunny!’ Maarten roars. ‘Where are you?’
‘Sir?’ The voice comes from the hallway.
‘I told you to stay near the front door!’
‘Ebba Munch said you’d asked me to wait outside. I only stepped out for a few minutes. Oh my God, the fire!’
Christ. ‘Where is she?’
The hallway is hot now. The flames rise on the outside of the building.
She must have lit it from in here. He has officers outside, had Sunny in the house. He hadn’t thought of this. He hadn’t thought she’d be capable of this.
‘I’ve phoned it in. Fire crews are on their way.’ Sunny is red, realising his mistake, red with heat.
‘The sisters must both be up there!’
Maarten runs, Sunny’s footsteps loud behind him.
73
LOIS
Lois leans back against the thick door to Ebba’s room. She had lain on that bed two days ago, planning the weekend. She’s lain on that bed more times than she can count. How can her sister have done what she says she’s done? Her head spins.
‘But Marieke… It was Marieke who was supposed to be killed. Not Aksel? You said so yourself. We were all there. Aksel’s glass broke, and Marieke gave him hers…’
‘Lois, will you stop it and just wake up? No she didn’t. Marieke didn’t give Aksel the glass. I gave him the fucking glass! I gave Marieke’s glass to Aksel. I asked him to make the speech. I’d tampered with Aksel’s – it was going to break. It was barely holding on. I was so nervous it would break too soon… But it worked.’
Lois needs to sit down. Sliding down the door, she slips to the floor, knees up, resting her head back against the thick wood. She needs support.
‘But the poison…’
‘I put it in Marieke’s glass. I brought the cocktails out.’
‘They were on the table. It could have been anyone.’
‘Oh, for fuck’s sake, Lois. Get out of cloud cuckoo land. I’m telling you what happened. I had to kill Aksel. He was blackmailing us, and he was about to take over the whole company. His distribution terms were daylight robbery.’
The information crushes Lois’s brain. It’s all too much. ‘What?’ she says. ‘What are you saying?’
‘Aksel helped us from the start – don’t you remember? He helped me structure the deal, fle
w us out to Dhaka to see the factory. And it wasn’t until later that I realised he’d set the whole thing up, so he could take it off us, right at the end. All the liability ours. And all the profits his. He was going to steal it from us, exactly as he tried to steal from Dad!’
The smoke smell is stronger, and because Lois is already burning inside, she doesn’t move. Not right away. It leaks in under the door, pools around her feet.
‘Why? Why wouldn’t you tell me?’
‘Because you’re always so fucking perfect, Lois! You’d never let us get off the ground, if you knew what it took! For fuck’s sake! You live on the moral high ground. Nice up there, isn’t it? Not so fucking nice down here. Where the men are in charge and if you’re clean, you get nowhere.’
Lois stares at her. The roar of the fire not as loud as the roar in her head.
‘So you knew the VR tech wasn’t ours? You knew that Archipelago was built on a stolen idea?’
‘I knew that Aksel bought the idea cheap from a factory worker. He asked me to write a memo and leave it on a desk in your team. It allowed us to launch our company, Lois! I never looked back. We never looked back.’
Ebba moves, but Lois is light-headed. All the secrets. She’d been so naïve.
‘And the distribution? Was Filip right? Was Aksel getting a much better deal?’
‘Oh, Lois. Of course he fucking was. By then, Aksel knew too much. He was blackmailing us. I had no choice.’
‘But you could have told me? We could have gone out to Dhaka, sorted it out. We could have brought the factory worker on board – paid for the IP properly. It wouldn’t have been too late. For God’s sake, Ebba, why didn’t you tell me?’