‘Everyone knows.’
‘How do you do it?’
‘You should come here first. Either they let you in, or they deport you. If you are in, you’re in. But if you are deported you are also okay.’
‘How is that?’
‘You refuse to leave.’
‘And that works?’
‘It works very well. You can escape from the refugee camp, for example. Maybe you change names with someone. Or else you disappear. There are churches that harbour refugees.’
‘That sounds too good to be true,’ Humlin protested. ‘I feel like I read articles every day about people with desperate stories who fight their deportation. Some of them try to kill themselves and they are still deported.’
‘It is unfortunate that the Swedish authorities have not yet understood the way things work. We have tried to tell them how refugees think, but they don’t want to listen.’
Humlin was starting to feel like an enraged conservative. In his mind he saw a Sweden with completely porous borders over which people from all over the world cheerfully crossed at will.
‘I thought our government was supposed to set rules for immigration, not the other way around.’
‘You don’t think that is undemocratic? Refugees know so much more about their situation than any public servant. Like what it is like to travel through Europe in a locked container, for example.’
Humlin thought about this in silence, not only what the driver had told him about immigration, but also Leyla’s real motives for learning to write. He had the feeling there was more to the story. Was her desire to write really motivated by superficial motives? Was there no deeper reason, a need to find a form of self-expression? Humlin simply couldn’t believe that all she wanted to do was make money and run a diet institute with her relatives.
The taxi slowed down in front of the boxing club. The windows and outside lights were dark.
‘They have probably gone home. It’s half past eleven.’
Humlin leaned forward to pay. He still didn’t know what had made him change his mind and ask to be driven out here, nor did he have a phone with him to order another taxi and get back. I never know why I do things, he thought despondently. It’s that damned foothold again, I’ve lost my foothold. The best thing I could do would be to go back to the hotel. But I’m determined to get out here.
‘Are you sure you want to be dropped off here?’ the taxi driver asked.
‘Yes, I’m sure.’
Humlin stepped out of the car and watched it drive off at breakneck speed in the snow. What the hell am I doing here, he thought angrily as he pulled at the locked door. Then he flinched and turned around. He saw someone come out of the shadows at him. I’m going to be robbed, he thought. Robbed, stabbed and left for dead in this slush. Then he realised it was Tanya. Her long hair was wet and she was shivering. But unlike last time she was not staring off at the horizon, she was looking into his eyes. And she smiled. It suddenly dawned on Humlin that she had been waiting for him all this time. When everyone else had given up on him and gone home, she had stayed there in the cold.
‘I’m so sorry I’m late,’ he said. ‘There was a problem with the train. And Tea-Bag disappeared. Do you know where she lives?’
Tanya did not reply. I wonder if she even understands what I’m saying, he thought. But she must speak some Swedish. Does she just not want to talk about Tea-Bag?
‘It’s locked,’ he continued. ‘We can’t get in. Everyone has gone home, it appears. I can’t blame them since I’m so late.’
The next moment Humlin realised Tanya understood him very well. She took out a collection of skeleton keys and a small torch and went to work on Törnblom’s door. After a while she gave up, pulled out a small crowbar that had been hidden in her boot and forced it into the door. Before he had a chance to react, Humlin found himself pulled into the dark hallway while Tanya closed the broken door behind them.
‘This is breaking and entering!’ Humlin hissed.
Tanya did not answer. She was already on her way to the room where they had met before, the one with the boarded-up windows. The light from her torch danced over the walls with their old boxing posters. He followed her in. She found the light switch and turned it on.
‘Someone will see the light,’ he said.
‘Even in Sweden light cannot pass through boarded-up windows,’ she said.
She spoke slowly, searching for each word like a blind person trying to find their way down an unknown path. He thought her voice sounded something like a small clear bell, delicate and definite at the same time.
‘Nonetheless someone might have seen us,’ he said.
‘No one saw us.’
Humlin thought about the impressive collection of keys she had hauled out, not to mention the crowbar.
‘Do you do this a lot?’ he asked.
He heard how silly the question sounded, but it was too late to take it back. Tanya sat down on the chair she had used last time. She removed her jacket and the backpack he only now saw she was carrying. She pulled her wet hair out of her face and placed a notebook and pen in front of her. She’s ready to start, Humlin thought. What do I do now?
Then it occurred to him that these events could be used as the start of a narrative. He quickly made some notes in his head. Darkness, taxi, boxing club, Tanya, break-in, empty room with boarded-up windows. Start of story about contemporary Swedish life. He removed his overcoat and sat down on the chair that he had used before. She was watching his every move.
‘You drew a picture of a heart last time,’ he said. ‘Whose heart was it?’
Instead of answering, she picked up her backpack and emptied the contents on the table. In the resulting jumble he could see everything from icons to pine cones, old cinema ticket stubs, a baby’s dummy, a tin opener, a piece of cut crystal and two brown envelopes. Tanya pushed the envelopes towards him. When he picked up the first she gestured to him in an irritated manner to take the other. He opened up the second envelope and saw that it contained a letter from the immigration authorities. Application for asylum and permanent residence in Sweden denied as of this 12th of August, 1997.
The letter was addressed to someone named Inez Liepa and the reasons given for the denial of her application were that she had given false information about her name and nationality, as well as the reason for her application for asylum. In the margin someone had doodled in a number of hearts from which drops of blood seeped down the page. Humlin assumed the latter had not been added by the immigration authorities.
Humlin picked up the first envelope. It was from the local police authorities in Västerås. This letter was also addressed to Inez Liepa, a Russian national, and it stated that she was to be deported from Sweden on the 14th of January 1998. Humlin put down the letter. She was still watching him very carefully. Do none of these people ever use their real names, he thought. First there’s Tea-Bag/Florence, now Inez/Tanya. He found it impossible to hide his disapproval.
‘We have laws and regulations in this country,’ he said, ‘in case you hadn’t noticed. How do you expect to be granted permanent residence if all the information you use has been falsified? Why can’t you simply tell them the truth?’
‘What truth?’
‘Your real name, for a start. Is it Inez or Tanya?’
‘Natalia.’
‘Natalia? Now you have a third name?’
‘I only have one real name. Natalia.’
‘And are you from Russia, Natalia?’
‘I was born in Smolensk.’
‘Liepa sounds Estonian. With a name like that people assume you come from a place like Riga.’
‘But Riga is in Lithuania, not Estonia.’
‘That was what I meant. Lithuania.’
‘There are so many countries in this world. It is easy to make mistakes.’
He looked at her searchingly but couldn’t tell if she was being ironic. He grew more irritated.
‘Can’t you just answer my question? What is
your real name and what is your nationality? I would also like to know where Tea-Bag lives. I’m worried about her.’
She didn’t say anything. He looked at the objects that were still lying on the table.
‘You can of course also tell me why you decided to come to Sweden,’ he said. ‘In particular I’m rather curious to know how you have managed to dodge the police for so long. But most of all I want to know why you came. What made you leave your home? That is what you are here to write about. It is your story. I promise to listen, but I want to hear the truth. Nothing less. I am tired of this never knowing who you really are.’
Humlin waited. Inez/Tanya/Natalia was silent. Well, we have the whole night, he thought. She has to say something sooner or later.
But he was wrong. She had still said nothing after half an hour. The silence was finally broken by the sound of the front door being thrown open by a barking police dog. The dog was quickly followed by three armed officers.
‘Hands in the air where we can see them!’
Humlin felt like he was in a bad dream. But the fear was real.
‘I can explain,’ he said. ‘There’s nothing illegal going on here, I promise.’
Tanya was frozen in her chair. Her gaze was once more fixed on some point far away. But Humlin was sure she was following everything that went on in the room.
‘Please call Pelle Törnblom who owns this building.’
‘His alarm system indicated that the front door had been opened and the door does show signs of force.’
‘I can explain. My name is Jesper Humlin and I am an author. I take it none of you officers is a fan of poetry but you may have heard my name. My name appears in the papers with some regularity.’
‘We’ll get to the bottom of this at the station. Come with us.’
Tanya gathered her things together and put them in her backpack. Humlin saw that she intentionally left the two envelopes behind.
‘I protest!’ Humlin said. ‘I demand to be allowed to call Pelle Törnblom.’
One of the police officers grabbed his arm. Humlin could already see the next day’s headlines.
*
Humlin did not manage to convince the officer who filed the report to let him call Pelle Törnblom until four o’clock in the morning. Before then he had managed to spend a few moments alone with Tanya.
‘I’m going to tell them the door was already open when we arrived,’ he said. ‘And I won’t tell them anything about who you are. How did you learn to break open doors anyway?’
‘My father was a burglar. He taught me.’
‘Is that what you do, then? Are you a thief?’
‘How would I manage otherwise?’
‘Is that why you keep a crowbar in your boot?’
Her eyes glinted angrily.
‘I hate being poor. Do you even know what that is? To be so poor you start to despise your own existence? Do you know? No, how could you know.’
‘Is that why you left? You wanted to escape the poverty?’
‘I did not try to escape anything. I left Smolensk in order to become rich. I was tired of breaking into houses where there was nothing left to take. I wanted to come to a country where there was something to take behind the doors I was going to break open. And it happened to be Sweden.’
At this point they were escorted to different rooms. Humlin was placed in a room with a drunken ice-hockey fan who had thrown up on the floor and whose right eye had swollen shut. During the half-hour that followed, Humlin was forced to listen to a completely incomprehensible account of the brawl that had taken place at the Scandinavium arena. It was only when the ice-hockey fan was taken away that Humlin was able to gather his thoughts. What could he do? When Törnblom finally turned up at dawn Humlin had prepared an explanation that shielded Tanya. Törnblom stood and glared at him for a long time before speaking.
‘Why didn’t you just call me and ask me to come down and unlock the door?’
‘I left my phone on the train. Didn’t you ring to check what time the train was coming in and hear it was delayed?’
‘I was waiting for your call, you know. It was damned difficult to stand there and explain to everyone that you had simply stood them up.’
‘The train was delayed,’ Humlin repeated in hurt tones. ‘I didn’t let them down.’
‘Haiman had brought a rugby ball to give to you. When he realised you weren’t coming he said he regretted not having hit you even harder. Everyone was very disappointed.’
‘The train lost all power just outside of Herrljunga! How many times do I have to say this?’
‘Why didn’t you call?’
‘The phone was out of range.’
‘I hope you realise I find this all a bit hard to believe. There are a few too many convenient coincidences in your story.’
‘Every word I’m telling you is true. What happened anyway? I mean, when I didn’t show up.’
‘I had to explain that unfortunately you had revealed your true colours as a fundamentally unreliable person. We decided to cancel the whole thing.’
‘Cancel?’
‘I hope you realise how disappointed the girls are.’
‘This is ludicrous. You’ve heard my explanation. I haven’t let them down.’
‘Where did you find Tanya anyway?’
‘She was waiting for me outside your club.’
‘Why was she still there?’
It was at this point that Humlin used his newly fabricated story.
‘She was guarding your door since there had been a break-in.’
‘There was no break-in. Nothing was stolen.’
‘I wouldn’t know about that.’
Humlin was completely unprepared for Törnblom’s next reaction which was to reach out and grab Humlin by his shirt.
‘I don’t know what the hell you’re up to or what you’re thinking. But you leave my club alone!’
He slowly let go. Humlin was speechless. They were alone in the room. Humlin had to wait for the report to be completed before the police could let him go. He had no idea where Tanya was.
‘How many times do I have to tell you that I had nothing to do with your club being broken into?’
‘You’re probably enough of a worm to pin this on Tanya, aren’t you?’
‘I told you she was just guarding the door. I’m not pinning anything on her.’
Törnblom pulled out a pack of cigarettes although a sign clearly stated that all smoking was forbidden.
‘You can’t smoke here, you know.’
Törnblom calmly lit his cigarette and sat down.
‘This isn’t good enough. You’re not good enough.’
‘What do you mean?’
‘You aren’t man enough to help these girls start to believe in themselves.’
‘And how could I do that? You just cancelled everything.’
‘I was humiliated when you didn’t show. Leyla was close to tears and all her relatives were upset. Even if you don’t care about them you don’t have to treat them like shit. You’ll have time to regret you did.’
‘I assume you mean Haiman is going to come looking for me.’
‘We don’t use violent methods. That’s part of the stereotype of immigrants people like you help to perpetuate.’
‘I’m not perpetuating any stereotypes. I’m just trying to understand what you’re saying.’
‘The reporter was also very disappointed. He said he was going to study your poetry for signs of a mindset that despises weakness in people. Even if you try to hide behind pretty words he’ll find you out. He’ll crush you.’
Humlin’s stomach started to hurt.
‘This is unfair. I don’t deserve this kind of treatment.’
Törnblom threw his cigarette on the floor and crushed it with his foot.
‘There’s no point in continuing this conversation. I still don’t understand how you can claim one of the girls was with you on the train only to disappear in Hallsberg. It sounds impl
ausible. I take it for granted you understand that we will have no contact after this. You should also avoid Stensgården, at least for the next few years. The people out there have their pride, however humble their circumstances.’
Törnblom left. Humlin searched desperately for a solution to what he now viewed as his greatest problem, the fact that a reporter was going to write an article with the intention of crushing him. But he was also hurt and saddened by Törnblom’s words.
The door opened and a police officer looked in.
‘You are free to go,’ he said. ‘We just need you to sign a couple of papers.’
‘I’m not signing anything.’
‘It’s just a document stating that you are not accused of having committed any crime.’
Humlin signed it.
‘What happened to the girl who was brought in with me?’
‘Do you mean Tatyana? Tatyana Nilsson?’
Humlin wasn’t surprised by anything at this point.
‘Yes. Where is she? We arrived at the boxing club at the same time. The door was already broken in.’
‘We know that.’
‘So I’m assuming that means she is also being released now?’
‘We can’t release her.’
‘Why not?’
‘She escaped through a window in the bathroom. We’re still not sure how she actually opened it and got herself out.’
‘Is that a crime?’
‘Not in itself. But we have been checking her driving licence in our registers and there’s something fishy about the information she gave us. We haven’t got to the bottom of it yet.’
‘There are few things that make any sense in this life,’ Humlin said. ‘But can I go now?’
It was a quarter past five. Before Humlin left the station he called his mobile phone number. He was surprised to hear that someone answered.
‘Who am I speaking to?’ he asked.
‘Who’s asking?’
‘The phone you’re using actually belongs to me.’
The man who had answered Humlin’s phone sounded sleepy and not completely sober.
‘I bought this phone yesterday for one hundred kronor.’
‘I’m going to block the account as soon as this conversation is over. If you really did buy the phone you bought stolen property.’
The Shadow Girls Page 14