by Jens Lapidus
“Yeah, it changed me. But you weren’t exactly much help during those ten years you kept your mouth shut. So I want you to do something to make up for it.”
“Huh, what do you want me to do?”
Emelie could hear the anxiety in Hugo Pederson’s voice.
Teddy said: “I want you to give thirty million kronor to the girls.”
“What? What do you mean? Which girls?”
“You heard what I said. Find out who they are and donate thirty million to them. It won’t change what they’ve been through, but you have to do something. Otherwise the Mauler will be paying you another visit.”
* * *
—
Emelie saw Dejan approaching from a distance. He had a particular way of walking: his arms swung slowly from left to right, right to left. The Mauler was skipping along beside him, without a lead.
She was skeptical about Dejan—she didn’t really know him, but she instinctively sensed that he was a pig, something she had also mentioned to Teddy a few days earlier. The strange thing was how he replied: “Yeah, he’s a pig. Probably one of the biggest assholes in northern Europe. But he’s the friend I’ve got.”
Possibly even stranger was what Emelie thought next: Dejan was a pig, but she could live with that—because she knew she wanted to live her life with Teddy.
The asshole friend approached. “Sweet stroller you’ve gotten yourselves.”
“You don’t know anything about strollers,” said Teddy. “But you can test-drive it if you want.”
Dejan looked like Teddy had asked if he wanted to lick poo. “Can’t we just carry it over to my car instead? I’ve bought a new Range Rover Autobiography. It came last week. Insane amount of storage space.”
“Strollers aren’t dangerous.”
Dejan’s fingers touched the handle as though he wanted to check it wouldn’t burn him.
“Get used to it,” said Teddy. “Because you’re going to be the little one’s kum.”
SWEDISH WOMEN’S WEEKLY
ELEGANT MINGLE AS PEDERSONS START NEW FOUNDATION
Stockholm’s society and financial elite gathered this week for the opening of Hugo and Louise Pederson’s foundation, which will work to counter the trafficking and sexual exploitation of women. The charity dinner was held in the Hall of Mirrors at the capital’s Grand Hôtel.
“I’ll be auctioning twenty or so pieces from my collection,” Hugo Pederson said proudly. “The proceeds, in full, will go to the foundation.” Swedish Women’s Weekly’s reporter on the scene can confirm that these weren’t any old works of art: among the pieces being auctioned are several unique works by wildlife photographer Nick Brandt. The collected works have been valued at over fifty million kronor.
Louise Pederson, dressed for the occasion in an elegant evening gown from Lars Wallin, was radiant. “We’ve got important work ahead of us. This is just the beginning.”
Evil tongues have, however, criticized Hugo Pederson’s business methods and suggested that he has profited from unethical practices. “He can’t have earned that money legally,” writes the anonymous finance blogger YourXmoney.
“Gossip is for losers. I’ve always paid my way. I’m a moral person through and through,” says Hugo.
Johan W. Lindvall, 2007
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