Lazarus

by Kepler, Lars

  ‘You’re not hurt, are you?’ Valeria asks, closing her eyes again.

  ‘No, but I’m going to be here for a while, I need to answer some questions.’

  ‘Are you going to end up in prison again?’ she asks, as she hears the door close softly.

  ‘I’ll be OK, I’ve got the backing of Interpol and the International Liaison Office back home,’ he replies.

  ‘You sound sad,’ Valeria says.

  ‘I’m just worried about you, and Saga and Pellerina … They haven’t cut back on the security, have they?’

  ‘This hospital’s crawling with cops, I’ve got two right outside the door, twenty-four hours a day. It feels a bit like being back in prison.’

  ‘Valeria, you need protection.’

  ‘The best thing would be if you came home.’

  ‘Lumi’s going back to Paris tomorrow.’

  ‘I’d like to go there too.’

  ‘I’ll pick you up as soon as I’m done here.’

  ‘Just need to change into some better clothes.’

  ‘I love you,’ he says quietly.

  ‘I’ve always loved you,’ she replies.

  They end the call. Valeria smiles to herself. Her eyes are burning with tiredness behind her eyelids. Thinking about the fact that Joona is coming back, she falls asleep with the phone in her hand.

  When she wakes up again, the effect of the morphine has faded, leaving behind a faint feeling of nausea.

  The police officers outside her door are talking about football and football managers again.

  She’s lying on her back, staring up at the ceiling.

  Her pupils have gone back to their normal size, and her vision is working properly again.

  She looks at the square tiles of the suspended ceiling.

  One of them has a damp grey patch on it, it looks like a photograph of one of the moon’s craters.

  She’s thirsty, and turns her head to look at the bedside table, but her eye gets caught by the tube leading into her left elbow.

  A syringe full of clear liquid is still attached to the cannula.

  She remembers the nurse who was with her when she was talking to Joona.

  The injection was prepared, but never finished. The nurse just left the room without a word.

  There’s a small, empty glass bottle on the metal trolley beside the bed. Valeria reaches out for it and turns it round in her hand.

  Ketalar 50 mg/ml, she reads on the label.

  A drug used to sedate people for operations.

  She can’t understand why they were going to sedate her. No one’s said anything to her about an operation.

  While she was talking to Joona she had glanced at the nurse cleaning the cannula in her arm.

  She doesn’t remember the face, everything was far too blurred.

  But she did notice the beautiful pearl hanging from the earlobe above her.

  Chalk-white, with a sort of creamy glow around it.

  Valeria remembers feeling like a small child while the nurse was fussing about her.

  At least two metres tall, she thinks, and shudders.

  96

  Saga is sitting waiting for the new cardiologist in a room for relatives in the Heart Clinic’s intensive care ward. Her face is tight with anxiety and lack of sleep. There’s a crumpled paper cup on the table in front of her.

  She brushes a stray lock of hair from her cheek with an agitated gesture, then leans forward so she can see along the corridor.

  ‘This is hopeless,’ she whispers to herself.

  She stares blankly at the aquarium with its little shoals of neon-tetras, and thinks back to the time Joona came to her dad’s house to warn her. As soon as he realised Jurek was still alive, he came to see her and begged her to flee with her family.

  She remembers feeling sorry for him, thinking that he’d lost his grip and become paranoid.

  When Joona realised she wasn’t going to hide, he warned her about meeting Jurek.

  Saga gets up from the chair and walks out into the corridor.

  She remembers feeling insulted by his warnings, pointing out that she had actually spent more time with Jurek than Joona had.

  She was ignoring the fact that Joona had lived with Jurek’s presence for years, that he had seen himself reflected in him every day in order to survive the coming confrontation.

  Joona’s first piece of advice was to kill Jurek immediately, with no consideration for the personal consequences.

  The second was that Jurek thinks and behaves like a twin. And that with his new accomplice, he can be in two places at the same time.

  The last piece of advice concerned a hypothetical situation in which Jurek had taken a member of her family.

  ‘If that happens,’ Joona said, ‘you need to remember that you can’t make any agreements with him, because they’ll never work in your favour … He won’t let go, and with each agreement you make with him, you’ll end up deeper in his trap.’

  Saga sinks into a chair and remembers what Joona said, about Jurek planning to take everyone she cares about away from her, not because he wanted them, but because he wanted to get at the darkness inside her.

  If only she had heeded any of those three pieces of advice, she’d still have her old life.

  Saga knows she betrayed Joona.

  Not intentionally, but her contacting Patrik was what led Jurek to Lumi’s hiding place.

  As if she’d been chosen, like some sort of Judas who needed to exist to bring balance to the world.

  Her thoughts are interrupted when a woman in her fifties with shoulder-length blonde hair and no make-up comes over and introduces herself as Magdalena Herbstman. She’s the cardiologist responsible for Pellerina’s care that morning.

  ‘I can understand that you’re worried about your sister,’ she says, sitting down.

  ‘The last doctor said that her heart’s beating too fast because she was so cold,’ Saga says, then clenches her jaw tightly.

  Herbstman nods and frowns.

  ‘It’s a lot to take in, but, as you say, the cold led to a serious disturbance in the rhythm in one chamber of her heart, so-called ventricular tachycardia, VT … And when her heart is racing, that puts your sister’s body under a lot of strain. At first the tachycardia worked itself out, that’s often what happens, but last night it became even faster and went on for longer, which is why we tried to stop it with defibrillation and stabilising medication.’

  ‘I thought that had helped?’ Saga says, starting to bounce one of her legs nervously.

  ‘It did at first … but the problem is so severe that she’s ended up in what’s known as an electrical storm – repeated sequences of tachycardia. We’re keeping her sedated and are preparing for ablation.’

  ‘Ablation?’ Saga asks, brushing the hair from her face.

  ‘I’m going to insert a catheter into her heart, try to identify the area that’s sending out the wrong impulses, and create some scar tissue there instead.’

  ‘What does that do?’

  ‘I want to scorch off the tiny area that’s causing the problem. If that works, her heart should start beating normally again.’

  ‘You mean she’s going to be all right?’

  ‘I always try to be honest with people … your sister’s condition is critical, but I promise to do my utmost to help her,’ Herbstman says, standing up.

  ‘I have to be with her,’ Saga says, getting up so abruptly that her chair slams into the wall. ‘I need to see what’s happening, I’m going mad sitting here waiting, staring at those damn fish.’

  ‘You can sit with my clinical assistant.’

  ‘Thank you,’ Saga whispers, and follows the doctor along the corridor.

  Saga thinks that she’s going to keep talking to the cardiologist, get her to realise that she and Pellerina are real people, not just patients passing through, not just part of her ordinary working day.

  Maybe she should tell her that her dad was a cardiologist, and worked at t
he Karolinska Institute in Solna.

  They may well have known each other.

  Saga is shown through a door into what looks like an advanced control room in a recording studio, with a huge array of screens and computers.

  She can hear clattering sounds and muffled voices from a loudspeaker.

  It all feels like a dream.

  There are ECG readings on various screens, the contractions marked by a regular bleep.

  She says hello to an older woman but doesn’t catch her name. The woman’s glasses are hanging round her neck on a gold chain.

  Saga mumbles her own name, then walks slowly towards the glass wall.

  There are at least five people in the brightly lit theatre. They’re all wearing pale blue outfits and masks over their mouths.

  A small figure is lying motionless on the operating table.

  Saga can’t believe it’s her little sister.

  The older woman says something and pulls out an office chair for Saga. The cardiologist has gone through a door into the operating theatre.

  Saga stops in front of the glass wall.

  There is a blue sheet covering Pellerina’s hips, her upper body is bares, and she has an oxygen mask over her face.

  Saga stares at the little protruding stomach and pubescent breasts. Two defibrillator pads are attached to her chest, diagonally, on either side of her heart.

  Saga brushes the hair from her face.

  She tells herself that if Pellerina gets better it will mean that she didn’t get there too late, that she will have managed to save her sister.

  If Pellerina survives, then there’ll have been a point to everything after all.

  The older woman is standing in front of the screens, tapping something on one of the computers. She explains calmly that she’s going to be keeping an eye on everything.

  ‘You can sit down,’ she says. ‘Because I promise that I—’

  She breaks off, presses the button on the microphone and tells the team in the theatre that another electrical storm is on its way.

  Saga looks at her sister. Pellerina is lying perfectly still, but on the ECG screens her heartbeat starts to race alarmingly.

  There’s a loud noise from the operating theatre as the defibrillator charges. The team back away just before it goes off.

  Pellerina’s body jerks violently, then lies motionless.

  It looked like someone hit her in the back with a baseball bat.

  Her heart starts to race again.

  The alarm goes off.

  There’s another bang, and Pellerina’s body jerks up.

  Saga stumbles sideways and grabs the desk for support.

  The defibrillator whines as it charges again.

  Another bang.

  Her sister’s shoulders fly up and her skin quivers.

  The older woman speaks into the microphone, informing her colleagues in the theatre of the various readings.

  Pellerina’s heart is beating even faster.

  The team back away from her and there’s another bang.

  Her body jerks upwards.

  Tears are streaming down Saga’s cheeks.

  Someone adjusts the blue sheet covering Pellerina’s hips, then steps back moments before the next shock.

  They defibrillate her sister eleven times to break the recurring VT episodes, and eventually her heart calms down and the readings return to normal.

  ‘God,’ Saga whispers, sinking down onto her chair.

  She wipes the tears from her face and thinks that everything that’s happened, everything that’s happening right now, is her fault, her responsibility.

  She was the one who revealed Pellerina’s hiding place to Jurek. She was confused and numb after their father’s death, and just wanted to collect her sister and hide her away somewhere.

  Saga had already snatched up the entry-phone when she realised that was way too dangerous, but by then it was too late. She had already shown him the way.

  97

  Saga is back on her feet, and can feel her legs shaking as she stands in front of the glass wall facing the brightly lit operating theatre, watching the cardiologist work calmly and methodically.

  She has inserted a tube into Pellerina’s right thigh, working through the veins to her heart in order to find the substrata, the area where the impulses that make her heart race are triggered.

  Using fluoroscopy, she can see the exact position of the tube on a large screen.

  The cardiologist and her assistant seem to agree on the location that’s sending out the wrong signals.

  Saga understands that they need to hurry, before the next storm starts.

  Everyone in the room is concentrating hard, working in silence.

  They all know what they have to do.

  The cardiologist is studying a three-dimensional image of Pellerina’s heart. She slowly adjusts the catheter, then begins the ablation.

  A piercing ringing sound cuts through the room as the doctor burns away the tissue.

  The catheter moves a tiny distance.

  Saga keeps telling herself that Pellerina wasn’t frightened in her coffin, because Valeria was there with her the whole time.

  She wasn’t scared of the dark then, and she isn’t scared of the dark now.

  The older woman says something into the microphone in an agitated voice.

  Saga glances quickly at the ECG-screens. The waves are getting closer together, like stitches made by a sewing machine.

  ‘Prepare for defibrillation,’ the assistant says loudly.

  The cardiologist tries, right up to the last moment, to burn away another area, as the ringing tone merges with the whine of the defibrillator as it charges.

  The assistant reads out the measurements into the microphone.

  The members of the team step back, and the next instant there’s a bang.

  Pellerina’s chest jolts and her head sways sideways.

  Another storm has begun.

  Saga realises that Pellerina isn’t going to be able to cope with this for much longer.

  The screens show that her heart is beating far too fast, but her sister is lying on the operating table perfectly still now, as if there was nothing happening inside her.

  There’s another bang, then another.

  Her heart continues to race.

  The cardiologist is sweating, talking quickly in an agitated voice, then moves the tube and tries to ablate Pellerina’s racing heart.

  The anaesthesiologist’s hands are shaking as she checks the oxygen supply.

  They make another attempt with the defibrillator.

  Another bang, but her heart doesn’t slow down, then suddenly it stops beating altogether and the line on the ECG-screens goes flat.

  For a moment or two there are slight undulations, a faint remnant of the contraction of the atria, then the line goes completely flat.

  The system sets off an alarm.

  The team starts to massage Pellerina’s heart. The cardiologist has stepped back slightly and pulled off her mask. She stares at the screen with an intent look in her eyes, then walks out.

  Saga stands behind the glass wall, looking at the man whose hands are on her sister’s chest, pressing it in an even rhythm.

  The door opens and the cardiologist comes in. She walks over to Saga, says she needs to speak to her, and asks her to go with her.

  Saga doesn’t answer, just pulls her arm away when the cardiologist puts her hand on it.

  ‘I wanted to tell you in person that we weren’t able to find the area causing your sister’s ventricular tachycardia,’ she says. ‘We’ve tried everything, but we weren’t able to stop that last attack.’

  ‘Try again,’ Saga says.

  ‘I’m sorry, but it’s too late for that now. We’re going to have to stop all attempts at resuscitation.’

  The cardiologist leaves her by the glass wall and walks out. The man stops massaging Pellerina’s heart.

  Saga puts both hands on the glass.

&nbs
p; They remove the defibrillator paddles from Pellerina’s body.

  Saga feels like screaming, but stands there in silence.

  She turns and walks towards the door, past the assistant, doesn’t hear what she says, just walks out into the operating theatre.

  The monitors are switched off and the room falls silent as the tube is removed.

  Someone pulls the pale blue sheet up over Pellerina’s naked chest.

  Everything is far too quiet.

  The lights above the operating table are turned off.

  At first it feels like it’s gone completely dark, but the room is still perfectly light.

  The members of the team drift off, like ripples in a pool of water.

  Leaving Pellerina behind at the centre of the rings.

  The plastic covers of the lamps click as they cool.

  Saga approaches her dead sister as if in a trance, thinking that they can’t stop, they can’t give up. She doesn’t notice herself walking into a chair that’s in the way.

  The oxygen mask has left a pink mark on Pellerina’s pale face.

  You have to try again, Saga thinks.

  Her legs threaten to buckle beneath her as she gets closer.

  It feels as if she has to cross an entire ocean before she can grasp her sister’s limp hand.

  ‘I’m here now,’ she whispers.

  Her sister looks calm, as if she’s sleeping soundly, without nightmares.

  Saga hears someone from the team trying to explain to her that Pellerina’s heart couldn’t cope with the last attack.

  His voice tails off and he leaves her alone with her sister.

  The nurses clear the equipment away.

  Saga has never felt so exhausted in her entire life. She feels like lying down beside her sister, but the operating table is too narrow.

  There are drops of blood on the plastic floor next to an instrument trolley covered with haemostats, scissors, and scalpels.

  The light reflects off the metal onto the ceiling.

  Saga sways as she looks at her sister’s little hand in hers, then at her sunken mouth, and pink eyelids.

  She knows it’s all her fault, she thought she had the situation under control, thought she could deceive Jurek, but instead she killed her own father and led Jurek to Pellerina’s hiding place.

  It’s her fault that her sister is dead.