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3:37 P.M.
Niels stepped into darkness. A gloom broken only by the faint glow from a TV and a terrified scream.
“Maria Deleuran?” he shouted.
Was that a girl on the bed? Niels took a step closer as he ran his hand over the wall, trying to find a light switch. “Maria?”
“Yes?”
“Are you alone?”
“Yes,” she replied. Niels blinked his eyes. The contours of the room slowly began to take shape. She was lying on the bed. He took another step before he discovered a second person. A shadow—something moving swiftly toward him.
“Stop!”
“What’s going on?” shrieked Maria.
Niels took the safety off his gun.
“What the hell is going on?” she screamed again.
Niels didn’t hesitate. He reached out into the dark and seized hold of a collar. The other person twisted out of his grasp and punched him in the face. Maria was crying now. Niels accidentally struck her leg with his left arm as he fell. The other person was on him at once, trying to grab hold of his head.
“Turn on the light!” Niels grabbed the man’s wrist, wrenched it around, and tried to get up. Again Niels was struck, this time in the back of the head, before he managed to get to his feet.
“Call security!” shouted the man. He had a firm grip on Niels’s arm.
“Hannah! Turn on the light!” Niels yanked his arm free and got out his handcuffs. Finally, he managed to grab the man’s hand. A quick twist, a cry of pain, and Niels threw the man to the floor with ferocious strength. At that moment Hannah turned on the light. The half-naked man moved a few feet away across the floor before Niels dragged him over to the bed and clamped the handcuff onto an iron bar.
Only now did Niels look at the terrified Maria, who was trying to cover her naked body with a sheet. “What . . . what do you want?”
Niels was gasping for breath. Blood ran out of his nose and down his shirt. His eyes roamed over the room, taking in the scene. He looked at Maria. Then at the almost nude, agile man in his forties who was cuffed to the bed. At the man’s coat draped over a chair; the name badge said: MAX ROTHSTEIN, M.D. At an open bottle of white wine standing on a small table. At Maria, who was openly weeping.
“Answer me!” she sobbed. “What’s going on?”
“It’s not her,” muttered Niels. “It’s not her.”
“What do you want?”
Exhausted, Niels showed her his police ID. Hannah took a step back, moving out into the hall.
“What time is it?” he asked.
“Niels, this is insane.”
“Will somebody please tell me what’s going on here?” the man shouted.
Niels noticed a little TV in the room. The word “Live” was at the top of the screen, showing helicopter views of an ambulance racing through the city with sirens wailing. “Turn up the sound,” he said. The doctor was about to protest when Niels interrupted him. “Turn it up!”
No one reacted. Niels went over to the TV and fumbled with the volume control. One of the climate negotiators for the NGOs was taken seriously ill during the closing round of negotiations. Sources close to the climate negotiator tell us that this may have been due to the two weeks of inhuman pressure to reach an agreement . . . He is arriving this very minute at the National Hospital.
“Oh, God,” said Hannah.
The TV2 News helicopter captured such a beautiful shot of the sunset over the city. The very last rays.
“The time?”
“It’s now, Niels. Or—”
“Where will the ambulance arrive?”
“I demand to know what this is all about,” said the doctor. “Where?”
It was Maria who answered. “At the ER. Take the elevator up to the first floor.”
3:40 P.M.
Niels was limping. Hannah tried to walk alongside him, but he reached the elevator before she did. He pressed the button repeatedly, but that didn’t make the elevator arrive any faster. Hannah caught up with him.
Neither of them said a word in the elevator. She hardly dared look at him. Instead, she registered how other people reacted to him as they stepped out onto the first floor. Surprise, shock. Niels was limping, his gun was drawn, and he made no attempt to hide the blood running out of his nose.
“Police! Where’s the ER?” he demanded.
Everyone pointed in the same direction. Niels jogged down the hall with Hannah right behind him. They reached the ER just as the ambulance arrived. A team of doctors stood waiting. The two police motorcycles that had provided an escort through town drove off to make room for the hospital staff. A glass window kept Niels from going any farther.
“How do we get in?”
“Niels!” Hannah tried to grab his arm. He pulled free. The patient on the gurney was lifted out of the ambulance, and the doctors closed ranks around him.
“No!”
They couldn’t hear Niels shouting. Panes of glass separated him from the others. He pounded on the window. “Where’s the door?”
“Niels.” Hannah was tugging at his arm.
“Down here!” someone shouted.
Niels was about to run off, but Hannah stopped him. “Niels! Look at the clock. It’s several minutes past the time. The sun has already set.”
Niels looked at the climate negotiator on the gurney. The man sat up and smiled to the doctors; he was already feeling better. Niels was all too familiar with the phenomenon. As soon as the ambulance arrived, people often started feeling better. Unfortunately, Sommersted was standing next to the man. His eagle eyes landed on Niels. Of course they did.
80
Santa Lucia train station—Venice
The military police were blocking the way. The official visitors slowly moved past the rows of government officials and police officers. “Commissario!”
Tommaso tried to shout, but his words were drowned out. “The cardinal is in danger!”
He caught sight of Flavio and called to him. Finally, someone who could hear him. But Flavio didn’t react. He stood at attention as the justice minister shook hands with the police chief, wiped his sweaty brow, and introduced the others accompanying him. More nervous handshakes, kisses on the cheek, and an exchange of well-rehearsed phrases. The cardinal stood in the middle of the group. Tommaso looked around. No one suspicious except a man hiding behind a pair of sunglasses. There was no sun at the train station, so why was he wearing shades?
“Flavio!”
At last Flavio responded. He stepped away from the ranks of police officers and came over to Tommaso. “What are you doing here?” he asked.
“Somebody’s life is in danger,” Tommaso told him.
“What are you talking about?”
“You have to believe me—”
Flavio interrupted him. “You look like shit. You’re ill. You shouldn’t be here. You should be with your mother.”
Tommaso pushed him away. The man with the sunglasses had disappeared in the crowd. No, there he was, standing not far from the cardinal. His hand was resting on a bag.
“That man over there, Flavio!” shouted Tommaso, pointing.
The commissario noticed Tommaso. Flavio took his arm. “You need to leave. You’re ruining everything for yourself. Do you hear me?”
The procession of dignitaries began moving away from the train station. The man with the sunglasses followed.
81
Basement, the National Hospital—Copenhagen
A lone drop of blood landed on the floor. It had dripped from Niels’s nose. Dr. Max Rothstein studied Niels as he unlocked the handcuffs.
“Police officers make mistakes, just like you do,” muttered Niels in an attempt to cut off all the questions and angry accusations issuing from Maria Deleuran and her secret lover, Max Rothstein.
“You certainly do.”
“I’m sorry.”
Maria had long since put on her clothes. The doctor cast an uncertain glance at her
. “Is there going to be a report filed about this incident?”
Niels gave him a puzzled look, wondering what answer the man most wanted to hear. “Report?”
The doctor cleared his throat. “Listen here. I have a family. You made a mistake. And I don’t think I should be made to suffer because you need to write up a report about what happened here.”
“No, of course not. Not a word.”
Rothstein tried to catch Maria’s eye, but his protective attitude toward his “family” had left her cold. Hannah was wondering if Maria had just failed the test, or if she could be considered a “good person” even though she was having an affair with another woman’s husband. Rothstein turned to Hannah. “And you are?”
“Hannah Lund.”
“Gustav’s wife.”
“Yes.” She was surprised he knew who she was.
“We both lived in the Regensen dormitory when we were students.”
“I see.”
Rothstein rubbed his wrists. They were red and swollen. “Shall I take a look at your nose?”
Rothstein went over to Niels and studied his nose. Cautiously, he tipped Niels’s head back so he could peer into his nostrils. The balance of power between the two men had shifted. Maybe that was exactly what Rothstein had in mind: to regain some of his lost dignity.
Maria rolled some cotton into a ball and handed it to Rothstein. He stuck it into one of Niels’s nostrils and said, “Okay. I think that makes us even.”
Rothstein left the room, giving Hannah a nod as he passed her. Perhaps it was his way of acknowledging her as an equal, one academic to another. While leaving the nurse and policeman to fend for themselves.
Lobby, the National Hospital—Copenhagen
Niels insisted on sitting down to wait for a while. Maybe someone had died unexpectedly somewhere in the hospital just as the sun set. They waited for half an hour without saying a word. Finally, Hannah got up.
82
Santa Lucia train station—Venice
The sun was about to set in Venice. Tommaso stood outside the train station, watching the cream of the Italian justice system disappear into the police boat. No one had died. The man with the sunglasses had taken them off and disappeared in the direction of the Ghetto.
Tommaso was not feeling well at all. He could feel snot running out of his nose. When he wiped it off, he saw that it was blood.
He was also having problems keeping his balance. He needed to find something to drink and just sit down by himself without anyone seeing him. Flavio was on his way back. He waved to Tommaso, who hurried away. He bumped into a young couple wrapped in an embrace, kissing. “Sorry,” he muttered.
There was a line outside the women’s bathroom. He went into the men’s room, but a metal bar blocked the entrance. “You have to pay,” someone behind him said. Tommaso felt dizzy as he searched his pockets for a couple of coins. The man behind him was getting impatient. Tommaso finally found the three coins. He put the fifty-cent piece into the slot. The metal bar still wouldn’t budge. The man behind him snarled, “It costs eighty cents!”
Tommaso tossed in the last two coins. EIGHTY CENTS, it said on the display. The metal bar slid aside.
83
Kongens Nytorv—Copenhagen
A Christmas tree on a sled. A father and son pulling the sled across the thin layer of snow. Niels watched them through the car’s windshield, which was starting to fog up. He should be in Africa right now. Celebrating Christmas Eve in a swimming pool, going out to look at lions on Christmas Day, and feeling the Indian Ocean caress his bare feet. Instead, he felt the cold whistling up from the floor of Hannah’s car.
“Do you want me to drive?” she asked.
“No, that’s okay.”
The stoplight turned red, yellow, green. First gear, he released the clutch, and the front tires skidded across the snow. For a couple of seconds he lost control of the vehicle, but then he got it pointed in the right direction, and they headed out. Control? At the moment he felt that anything could happen and he wouldn’t be able to do a thing about it. His hands would start shaking if he let go of the steering wheel, and he would collapse, sobbing, if Hannah so much as touched him. She didn’t, and Niels kept a firm grip on the wheel. That was how they drove. Across the bridge between the lakes. Past Kongens Have. By the time they reached Kongens Nytorv, neither of them had said a word, but they both stared at Santa Claus walking past with a flock of little kids in tow.
In the middle of the square, five-foot-tall posters had been set up, showing hundreds of places on earth that were in danger of disappearing because of climate change. From inside the car, they could faintly hear the man holding the microphone, speaking to a modest crowd: “More than seven hundred thousand workers make their living from tea production in Sri Lanka. Drought will destroy all production.”
Traffic was at a standstill. People were lugging their Christmas purchases across the square. Past the posters of the Solomon Islands, where the local population lived on coconuts and fish, only seven feet above sea level. Heading for the antiques shops on Bredgade, where they passed the illuminated photos of Lake Chad, which was in the process of evaporating, transforming yet another corner of Africa into a wasteland of dust and sand. The traffic began moving again. Hesitantly, uncertainly, as if all the drivers at the square were considering whether to take the lead in the battle: shut off their engines, throw away the car keys, and try to save the Solomon Islands. At the last minute, the drivers changed their minds and the cars rolled on as usual. If they were very quiet, they might hear the last coconut pull loose from its branch and float down toward the sea that intended to swallow up everything.
Hannah was the first to break the silence. “Where are we headed?” She looked out the window as she spoke. As if her question were directed not at Niels but at all of humanity.
“I don’t know.”
She looked at him and smiled.
“This whole day . . . I’m sorry, Hannah.”
“You don’t need to apologize.”
“There’s just one last thing I’d like to ask you.”
“What’s that?”
He hesitated. “I don’t think I can be alone tonight.” He cleared his throat. That sounded all wrong. Like an invitation. “I mean,” he muttered, “not anything—”
“That’s all right. I understand.”
He looked at her. She did understand.
“Would that be okay with you? I have a good pull-out sofa. We could have a glass of wine.”
She smiled. “You know what? I just realized this. There were three things that Gustav never said to me. ‘I don’t know,’ ‘I’m sorry,’ and ‘Would that be okay with you?’ ”
84
Carlsberg silo—Copenhagen
My wife is an architect,” said Niels as the elevator doors slid open to reveal his apartment.
Hannah didn’t say a word about the size of the place. She merely sank onto the sofa as if she lived there. Everyone else was always spellbound by the 360-degree view. Not Hannah. I suppose she’s seen much more impressive things, thought Niels as he uncorked a bottle of red wine. As an astronomer, she had probably lain under the open skies in the Andes Mountains, watched suns explode in Orion’s Belt, and all sorts of things like that. By comparison, looking out at the view of Carlsberg probably didn’t rate. He handed her a glass of wine. “It’s okay to smoke in here.”
He felt a sudden pang of guilt. As if he’d been unfaithful. Hannah now stood next to the window.
“It has always struck me . . .”
“What?” He moved closer.
“When I look at cities from above. Like here. Or when I look down at Europe at night. With all the lights. Do you know the feeling?”
“No. I’m not very good at flying.”
She looked taken aback. “You’re not?” She stared at him. As if she’d just realized something.
“You were saying?” Niels prompted her.
“That the lights around the
cities look exactly the way light looks in space. When we gaze out into the galaxies, Niels. That’s the way it looks.” She pointed at a distant light on the horizon. “Amazing areas of nothingness. And then all of a sudden a cluster of lights. Life. Almost like a city.”
Niels didn’t know what to say. He refilled their glasses. “Maybe we should call Tommaso. To hear if he found out anything.”
“Found out anything? I don’t know if I can stand any more of this tonight.”
“Then I’ll call him. I just want to see if he answers. Could you translate if he does?” Niels punched in the number. No answer. He tried again. “Hello? English? Is this Tommaso di Barbara’s phone?”
Hannah poured herself some more red wine. She could hear Niels talking on the phone in the bedroom. What was it he’d just told her? Hannah couldn’t get the words out of her head. I’m not good at flying. Traveling. He was shouting in the bedroom: “What? Can I talk to him? I don’t understand.”
After a few minutes, he came out of the bedroom and went toward the bathroom. She caught a glimpse of his confused expression. “I think they’re trying to find him. I can’t really tell what’s happening.”
Hannah followed him. At a distance. In the bathroom he took off his shirt and tossed it on the floor. She looked at him. There was blood on his shirt. He turned his back to her. Hannah knew what she was going to see, but it still came as a shock.
“What? No? Tommaso?” said Niels on his cell.
Niels was trying to make sense of the phone conversation, but the person on the other end had already gone. He put down his cell. He was standing in front of the sink, leaning on both hands. Hannah didn’t take her eyes off him. Finally, he turned around.
“It . . . he . . .” Niels stammered.
“He’s dead,” she said.
“How did you know that?”
The Last Good Man Page 32