‘What did you imagine?’ He extended his arms out to the sides like a crucified man. ‘This is my experiment…My world.’
Tom slumped back in his chair. ‘You’re sick. It’s much worse than I thought.’
‘The blind are the ones who are sick,’ Abelsen said. ‘I’m the future.’ He sat down again, very calmly. ‘Tom, Bárdur knows perfectly well not to touch you. You’re safe in this room.’
‘My safety be damned,’ Tom grunted angrily. ‘What about Mona? She’s chained up, for God’s sake. He beats her and he rapes her…Have you seen her eyes?’ Tom tightened his hands around the fabric of his brown trousers, creating taut folds down the legs. His nails dug into the fabric.
‘I think it’s best that you stay down here and focus on the experiment,’ Abelsen said.
Tom looked at the Bunsen burner and the glass flasks. The many little boxes and plastic containers. The wooden moulds for the pills. He closed his eyes and exhaled slowly.
‘Tom,’ Abelsen continued, ‘you and I have a deal, and you don’t have to worry about anything other than keeping your end of it. That way your boy lives, and that’s all there is to it.’
‘But—’ Tom protested and opened his eyes.
‘Nothing down here will change,’ Abelsen said. ‘I thought you had realised that by now. Perhaps I’ve been too soft on you?’
‘The whole thing is perverse.’ Tom closed his eyes again and shook his head. His temples had started to throb. ‘Do you ever air this place?’
‘I thought I made myself perfectly clear when I told you about Bárdur the last time?’
Tom sat still and kept his eyes closed.
‘Bárdur was born out here and he grew up in a very small and isolated community,’ Abelsen said. ‘And, as I told you, it was a deeply religious community, one built on corporal punishment, Bible school and, yes, at times also abuse. That was what life was like for most people out here, and it’s very easy to judge other people’s morality when you haven’t been a part of it, for better or worse.’
‘For better or worse,’ Tom snapped back. ‘There’s nothing good about beatings and rape.’
‘But if that’s your whole world,’ Abelsen said, ‘then you know no other, and they haven’t had a lot of schooling out here. In fact, I don’t think there ever was a school…Just the Bible and God…And then Bárdur’s world fell apart, his father disappeared without a trace. The fishing collapsed, everybody went away. Eventually only Bárdur was left. Always remember the context, Tom.’
‘Context? What the…’ Tom ground to a halt and stared at Abelsen in disbelief. ‘You make him sound like a psychiatric patient we ought to pity, but nothing excuses this sick world and the rapes, nothing!’
Abelsen heaved a sigh and patted his thighs. ‘I can see I’m not getting anywhere with you, Tom. I don’t want to listen to you any longer. Shut up and make some more pills. I’ll pick them up in a few hours. I’m going to have lunch with Bárdur. You won’t forget that I also give your pills to his girls, will you?’
‘You’re even crazier than he is,’ Tom exclaimed.
‘I’ve brought you some boxes,’ Abelsen went on. ‘The kind of equipment I was able to get in Nuuk. It’s from the university, so it should be the real McCoy, and you already have all the notes and your data from Thule, so you’ll just have to make do with that. Now, get to work!’
Tom looked away. ‘Make your own damned pills.’
‘Very well, I’ll arrange for you to travel to Denmark next week.’
‘Eh?’
‘I imagine you would like to attend Matthew’s funeral.’
‘You evil bastard,’ Tom shouted, and jumped up. He grabbed Abelsen’s throat and squeezed it, but felt at that same moment a pain shoot through his body so violently that he collapsed on the floor in spasms.
‘Now, would you look at that.’ Abelsen was holding a stun gun. He smiled at Tom, who was gasping for air. ‘Matthew’s fine, Tom. Only it sounded as if you wanted that to change, and I would like offer you the opportunity to see his coffin being lowered into the ground.’
Tom pressed a hand against his side where the electricity had entered. There was burning and stinging under his skin.
‘Two hours, Tom. And I’ll be back for some new pills.’
46
Tom’s chest felt tight, as if his lungs were being dissolved by stomach acid. He knew that he could breathe, but it felt laboured. He was choking on his own bile.
It was just over an hour since Abelsen had picked up another portion of pills. This time Tom hadn’t added any mind-altering substances. He didn’t mind Abelsen overdosing and dying, but if he really did give the pills to the girls as well, then that would be unacceptable.
Tom wrung his hands. Then he got up and found the printed pictures of Matthew. He studied the boy closely, but it was impossible to work out the recipient of his son’s smile. He caressed Matthew’s pale skin and blond hair lovingly before folding up the sheets and slipping them into his back pocket. He also stuffed in a bag of pills and a small folding knife, which had arrived with the items for the experiment. Then he took out a thin file with the data from the Thule experiment, put it into a plastic bag and wedged it firmly in place under his shirt and the waistband of his trousers.
Out in the corridor, the light was off.
By now he had been around this section of the corridor so often that he no longer struggled to find his way in the dark. He knew exactly how far it was to the next corner, and how far to the abattoir and the rooms where Mona was being kept and the two girls were asleep. He could also make his way to the swimming pool blindfolded, but he had abandoned the idea of diving as his means of escape. The corridors above the water felt long and branched out, and if he didn’t have enough air to swim the whole way in an underground channel, or if the underground channel narrowed, he would suffer a claustrophobic death and end up on the bottom of the pool with the other skeletons.
His hand trailed the rough concrete in the darkness as he followed the corridor around the first bend.
There was another corridor in the bunker, which he had also previously explored. It culminated in a wide iron gate, but the gate was impossible to open. It felt as if it was covered or bricked up from the outside, although it looked like it had once served as the main entrance to the bunker.
He slowed down. His hand carefully touched the door to the girls’ bedroom. The hairs stood up on his arms. If he was lucky, they would be in there now. It was better if Mona was alone when he tried to talk to her. The girls were just as damaged as their father, but if he could convince their mother to escape, they might listen to her.
Tom looked up at the ceiling. The lights should have come on, but nothing happened.
He grabbed the handle to the living room door and opened it. It was the second time he’d been in there, but the first time he hadn’t noticed very much except the chained woman and the girls on the floor. Now the living room was empty. The woman’s armchair stood up against one wall and the chain lay slack across the floor like a dead snake extending its body into another room, through an open door right behind the chair.
In front of the chair was the rug the two girls had been sitting on. Slightly to his left were a coffee table and a sofa.
He looked at the crucifix on the wall to his left. It was large and hung right above an altar-like bookcase with two tall candles and a well-thumbed black Bible. Jesus hung on the crucifix. He looked tired. Worn out. Golden. Bloodstains had been painted onto his body, on his feet and hands and around his hairline. His mouth was open, his eyes staring impotently at the ceiling.
Tom continued to the armchair and picked up the chain. The iron was cold. It felt heavy in his hands. He straightened up and looked over his shoulder before he continued towards the door to the other room.
The door was open and he could see a double bed inside the room. On one side the chain continued under a duvet, while the other side of the bed was empty; the duvet hung over the edge
of the bed. The air was sour and stuffy. Light from the living room reached the bedroom like artificial twilight. He took a cautious step through the doorway and cleared his throat.
The woman sat up in the bed with a jolt and stared at him. The chain clattered slightly as she pulled up her knees and folded her arms around them outside the duvet. Her eyes were simultaneously empty and filled with fear. She looked at Tom, then out through the open door.
‘I’m here to help you,’ Tom said as softly as he could. ‘You can leave with me…now.’
She retreated even further.
He looked into her eyes. She wasn’t as old as he had initially thought. No more than thirty. About the same age as Bárdur.
‘Your name is Mona, right?’ He extended a hand towards her.
She stared at his hand and then back at his face.
‘How long have you been here?’ Tom said. ‘Don’t be afraid, I’m here to help you.’
Mona said nothing. Her hair was messy, but not dirty. She just looked like someone who spent a lot of time in bed; she was pale and had rings under her eyes. There was no kind of colour in her face and her arms were skinny. Most of her body was hidden underneath the nightdress.
‘You can leave with me,’ Tom said, taking another step towards her. ‘You want to leave, don’t you?’
‘I don’t want to…’ she said. Her voice was panicky and croaking. ‘Don’t touch me.’
Tom looked at her and held his breath for a moment. He felt a heavy weight spread across his chest.
‘I’ll bite,’ she snarled. Her gaze had grown hard and crazed. ‘Fornicator…You filthy fornicator.’
‘But you need to get out,’ Tom continued. ‘This place.’ He could feel the tears forcing their way out. ‘This is a terrible, evil place.’
‘I don’t want you to fuck me,’ Mona shouted. ‘Fornicator! Go away!’
‘What?’ Tom said, waving his hands in the air to calm her down. ‘I’m not going to…Please don’t think…I…Sorry.’
‘You all want to fuck,’ Mona screamed. She released her grip on her legs and pulled the duvet over her head. ‘Get out! Just get out.’
‘Shhh…’ Tom looked over his shoulder, but then returned his attention to the bed. Mona’s lower legs had become exposed when she pulled the duvet over her head. She screamed under the duvet. She took a breath and then she screamed again.
Her legs were just as skinny as her arms. The ankle with the chain was covered in scars and red bruises after years of the iron ring being locked around it. Tom tried to grab her ankle in order remove the iron ring, but she started kicking out immediately.
‘Demon,’ Solva’s voice cried out behind him. ‘Dangerous man.’
Tom spun around.
‘Dada,’ Kristina shouted out into the air, staring deadpan at Tom. ‘Dada!’
‘Be quiet,’ Tom hissed at the two girls in the doorway. ‘I’m here to help you, God damn it. Don’t you understand?’
He looked desperately back at Mona, who had poked out her head again.
Out in the living room the door to the corridor was opened, and Bárdur stormed inside with a roar.
Tom saw him stop when he reached the bedroom.
The big man’s gaze flitted briefly from one to the other. ‘This time I’ll bloody well kill you,’ he thundered. His lips were quivering and bits of saliva dribbled into his dense, red beard. His hands were shaking. ‘To hell with Kjeld.’
‘No,’ Tom said, holding up his hands. ‘I want to help you.’
Bárdur lunged at Tom, who at that moment ducked and punched Bárdur hard in the groin with his right fist; he continued the movement and made a half-turn, so his boot smashed into the side of Bárdur’s right knee with full force.
The two little girls screamed. Tom looked at them. Their terrified expressions. Solva covered her eyes, but peeked out between her fingers.
‘Dangerous man,’ Kristina screamed. ‘Punish him with the wrath of God, Dada.’
Tom stared at her pale, freckled face. She couldn’t be much more than five years old. Her red hair was in pigtails and she wore an old-fashioned dress with green stripes. Red shoes.
He stared back at Mona. ‘You need to get out of here!’
Mona gazed apathetically into the air. She looked straight through him. She seemed absent.
‘I’m going to kill you,’ Bárdur screamed at him again from the floor. He was trying to stand up and threw himself at Tom, who was knocked over, but rolled around and managed to get back up again. He couldn’t fight the red giant lying down; he would get himself killed.
Bárdur went for Tom once more. He managed to grab Tom’s shoulder and drag him down onto the floor.
‘Man must suffer death,’ Bárdur shouted. His eyes were ablaze with rage and his saliva hit Tom’s face. ‘Let the whole church stone him, while I take great vengeance on him and chastise his sinful body in anger, so that he can know that I am the Lord when I rend him asunder.’
Tom punched Bárdur hard in the side and several times in the face, but it had no effect. Instead he felt Bárdur’s hands lock themselves firmly around his throat, and he lashed out blindly. His right hand managed to grab some fabric and he heard one of the girls scream and kick his arm. He tightened his grip, then yanked the girl close to him.
She panicked and screamed hysterically and pounded him as hard as she could, but Tom kept hold of her and pulled her right between himself and Bárdur.
Bárdur slackened his grip and Tom seized the chance to wriggle free so that he could get up from the floor. He just had time to see Bárdur carefully set Solva down before he ran out of the bedroom door and through the living room.
‘I’m going to kill you,’ Bárdur roared behind him.
Tom ran as fast as he could. His own room, the doctor’s surgery, the swimming pool or any other room in the bunker was no longer an option for him. He had to get out.
The light was on in all the corridors now. He followed one corridor around in a curve and reached a place where metal brackets cemented into the wall led to a large grate higher up. It was the first time he had seen them. He had been down this long corridor before, but it had been completely dark and he hadn’t noticed the grate until now.
The grate shifted easily and a few minutes later he found himself in an empty industrial laundry. Several of the windows were broken, but the room looked otherwise functional.
He looked over his shoulder. There was no time to waste. It could only be a matter of minutes before Bárdur caught up with him.
As soon as he stepped outside the laundry, he saw a boat lying anchored near the shore. There were no rubber dinghies or small boats to be seen anywhere, so he simply carried on running, then jumped from the rocks into the sea and swam towards the boat.
The icy water knocked the air out of him immediately. He gasped a couple of times. The cold sank its teeth into his skin and stabbed at his muscles. Then he started to swim. He forced his arms through the water and fought back. The plastic bag under his shirt scratched his skin with every stroke he took in the cold water. He estimated that he would be able to reach the boat before he started cramping. This was what he had trained for: operating in the cold. His arms were working; his legs were kicking. His muscles felt better. Calmer. Slowly he drew nearer the boat.
He swung himself up on the small transom of the boat and crawled from there onto the aft deck. The wheelhouse looked empty and the rubber dinghy, which should have been on its stand near the stern, was gone. He looked towards the shore, but he still couldn’t see anything. Perhaps he had hit Bárdur’s leg more cleanly than he had thought.
The wheelhouse wasn’t locked, but the engine needed a key to start it. With the small folding knife he managed to short-circuit the mechanism and start the engine. Everything seemed to be working and he had almost a full tank of fuel.
The engine engaged the moment he pushed the throttle forward. He glanced briefly back at the shore, but there was still nothing to see. He pushed the
throttle a notch further. He would sail south, to Qeqertarsuatsiaat to begin with, and decide what to do next once he got there.
He carefully took out the sheets of paper with the pictures of Matthew and unfolded them. He put them on the area above the dashboard. They were soaked, but not dissolved. Water trickled over his face and he raked a hand through his hair.
He also took out the file with the Thule data to check that it hadn’t been water-damaged. He placed the file next to Matthew and looked back at Færingehavn. The blood was roaring through his body and he pulled the throttle back again and sat down with his eyes closed. The scent of the sea entered the wheelhouse and he inhaled it greedily. Then suddenly the tears started to flow down his cheeks. His whole body trembled. The wet clothes stuck to his skin. They were the tears of the freedom he felt, tears of relief after thinking that death would find him in the darkness of the underground corridors. But they were also the tears of a new fear that had replaced his fear of death: his fear of losing Matthew.
47
QEQERTARSUATSIAAT, WEST GREENLAND, 17 APRIL 1990
It was dark when Tom steered the boat into the small harbour. The trip had taken him just under four hours, and it was coming up to eleven o’clock at night when he docked.
Most of the windows in the houses were dark, but the lights were still on in one or two. It was his first visit to Qeqertarsuatsiaat and it looked even smaller than he had imagined. Most of the houses were modest and made from wood, and he had seen no more than eighty buildings as he sailed towards it. There was still a little snow here and there, but not much.
Tom moored the boat and walked up the sloping, yellow wooden bridge, which took him ashore. He’d had the heating on in the wheelhouse all the way down from Færingehavn and his clothes had dried enough for them to no longer bother him. He had been hoping that he could buy some new clothes in Qeqertarsuatsiaat and hide out there for weeks or possibly longer, but the town was so small that there was unlikely to be a clothes shop or a hotel.
He closed his eyes and pinched the bridge of his nose. The hell that was Bárdur’s world was churning around his mind so much so that he couldn’t think straight. It must have been nearly a month since Bradley and Reese were killed—possibly by Abelsen, but everything had been set up so that it was Tom who would go to prison for it. A US military tribunal would likely give him a harsh sentence.
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