The Last Good Man

by A. J. Kazinsky

  Yet another resurfacing to consciousness. It happened in small waves that made her open her eyes for a moment and then retreat once again.

  “I . . .” said Hannah, then came to a halt. This time she wouldn’t speak to anyone. She wouldn’t ask for help. Or plead with the staff to let her stay awake. This was a hospital; they would do everything possible to save her life. But they misunderstood. Hannah knew that now. She was supposed to die. Today. By sundown, Hannah would be dead.

  She needed to move calmly—to keep pace with her thoughts, which were still under the influence of the drugs. First she pulled out the IV and pressed the tape over the wound. Then she swung her legs over the side of the bed and stood up, wavering like a toddler taking her first steps. One leg was almost useless. She needed a crutch. Or a wheelchair.

  She leaned on the wall and worked her way over to the cupboard. The only thing inside was her jacket. Still muddy from the accident, it reeked of juniper and alcohol. She remembered the smashed bottle of gin. The light blue shards of glass. She put on her jacket. At first she didn’t recognize the woman standing in front of her, looking angry. Then came the painful realization that she was looking at her own reflection in a mirror. One side of her face was swollen. But it didn’t matter. Very soon she would be leaving her earthly husk for good.

  2:24 P.M.—1 hour, 17 minutes before sundown

  “Two more. They’ll take the edge off the pain.”

  The nurse was leaning over Niels as he swallowed the two big pills with difficulty. She looked at him.

  “Is today Friday?” he heard himself ask.

  “Yes, it’s Friday. Christmas Day. You’ve been asleep for a long time, Niels.”

  “This afternoon . . .”

  “What about this afternoon, Niels?”

  “When the sun goes down . . .”

  “I hear that you’ve been running around the hospital in the middle of the night.” She smiled. Maybe because of the word “running,” which made him sound like a dog in heat. “It was lucky they found you so quickly. I think you’re just feeling a little confused about the whole situation.”

  Niels didn’t reply.

  “Do you know what, Niels?” she went on. “It’s actually quite common for patients to wake up and feel completely bewildered. It’s perfectly normal.”

  She took his hand. He looked out the window, trying to catch sight of the sun. For a moment he thought it was the bright light that dazzled his eyes so much that he couldn’t see the trees. But it was just the reflection from the lamp. He tried to whisper something, but the nurse didn’t hear him.

  “You need to stay here, Niels. So we can take care of you.” Her hand rested on top of his. “Did you say something?”

  “Turn off the light.”

  “Sure. Of course.”

  She turned off the lamp next to his bed, and the reflection in the window disappeared. The sun was hovering above the treetops in the park. Crimson and impatient. There wasn’t much time left. He gave up. He thought: Go ahead and take me to the realm of the dead. Just let the whole world go to hell.

  The nurse interrupted his thoughts. “There are a couple of men outside who want to talk to you. They’ve been here every day since you were admitted.” She stood up and went to get them.

  Sommersted and Leon came into the room. Leon stayed next to the door. Like a bodyguard for a Mob boss. Sommersted came closer.

  “Just for a moment,” said the nurse, and left the room.

  Niels couldn’t read Sommersted’s expression. It wasn’t recognition or compassion, coldness or contempt. If it weren’t for that scrap of humanity that manifested itself as jealousy when it came to his wife, Sommersted easily could have fooled Niels into believing that he was a robot consisting of nothing more than wires and intricate mechanisms.

  “To be honest, Niels, I don’t understand any of this.” Sommersted spoke in measured tones. Like a man who had all the time in the world and knew that he wouldn’t be interrupted. “But you were right. Last Saturday a police officer was found murdered in Venice. And it was just like you said—he had a mark on his back. We’re still waiting for the final report from the Italian ME, but it looks like we’re talking about the number thirty-five possibly tattooed onto the victim’s skin. Interpol is actively working on the case.”

  Sommersted took a deep breath, which Niels interpreted as a form of apology. I’m sorry for not listening to you. Niels made eye contact with Leon. It was like looking into the eyes of a dead fish.

  “What about you, Niels?” asked Sommersted. All of a sudden there was an undertone of empathy in his voice.

  “What about me?”

  “How are you doing? The doctor says you had a narrow escape. Was it a train?”

  “A car at a railroad crossing.”

  “Ah, so that was it.” Sommersted nodded. “Great thing you did for those girls. I heard they would have been killed if you hadn’t been there. First that family in the Nordvest district, now those two girls. You’ve saved quite a few lives.” He shook his head and looked down at the floor before he continued. “As I said, we can’t really make sense of the whole thing. But we’re going to increase the police presence here at the hospital for the next few days and see what happens.”

  “Just until this afternoon. At sundown,” said Niels. He looked out the window. The sun had begun to caress the tops of the trees.

  “Okay. We can certainly manage that. Right, Leon?”

  Leon jumped into the conversation. “Of course, we’re not talking about the same level of security that we had for the climate conference. But we’ve informed the hospital’s own security officers and asked them to be extra-vigilant. We’ll be watching the four main entrances and keeping an eye on the parking garage.” He kept his gaze fixed on Sommersted. Like a boy pleading for recognition from his father. And he got what he wanted.

  Sommersted nodded. “That’s good, Leon.” The police chief turned to leave, but then he changed his mind and came back. He said, “I can never figure you out, Niels. Do you know what I’m getting at?”

  “Not really.” Niels sensed that Sommersted was about to get tangled up in his own words.

  “Maybe I should have listened to you. But I just never know with you. You seem so . . . maybe the word is ‘naive’?”

  He came to an abrupt halt. Niels could tell that his boss was on the verge of offering a major concession.

  “I’m glad that you’re going to be okay. I really am. I can’t evacuate the hospital—I’m sure you realize that. But Leon and a couple of the other boys are going to keep an eye on things here.”

  Niels nodded, surprised at his use of the word “boys.” That was not a term that Sommersted had ever used. It made him sound like a Little League coach. And it suited him. Maybe it was that very word that made Leon clench his fist and exclaim, “Goddammit, Bentzon, we’re all thinking about you. So you’d better see about getting back on your feet.”

  Niels looked at him but couldn’t think of anything to say. Sommersted clearly noticed the awkward silence and hurried to intervene. “By the way, everything went fine here—with Hopenhagen, as they called the city. We took good care of all the heads of state.” He shrugged. “It looks like the world has been saved this time around.”

  Leon smiled. He’d always known how to play by the rules. Even the unwritten ones. One of the rules was that you should always smile when the boss attempted to make a joke.

  Niels nodded. He didn’t know why.

  Someone knocked on the door a bit too loudly. The nurse stuck her head in. “Are you done in here?”

  “I think so.” Sommersted gave Niels a clumsy collegial pat on the shoulder and left the room.

  “Bentzon,” said Leon, and gave a little wave. Then he followed his boss.

  The nurse closed the door after them.

  Niels didn’t notice when it opened again. But he did hear someone quietly whisper his name. “Niels.”

  He turned over in bed.

&nb
sp; Hannah was sitting in a wheelchair. It pained Niels to see her like that, but one glance at her face gave him hope. There was something different about her.

  “Niels.”

  “Hannah.”

  She rolled the chair over to his bed and put her hand on his arm. “I’m glad to see you. I’ve been looking for you.” Her voice was weak but determined. “I tried to find you, but they sent me back to my room.”

  “We need to get out of here, Hannah. There’s not much time left.”

  “Niels. We have time. I just need to explain the whole thing. And you need to listen.”

  “The sun is on its way down.”

  “When I died, it wasn’t all darkness.” She squeezed his hand. “There’s more than this life. And now there’s proof.”

  “Proof?”

  “Like I told you on the phone. But maybe you were a little out of it.” She smiled. “They’re carrying out a major research experiment, Niels. They’ve put pictures on shelves up near the ceiling in hospital emergency rooms all over the world. Pictures that you can see only if you’re hovering near the ceiling. It’s not some hocus-pocus; it’s a scientific study. Carried out by doctors and scientists under the auspices of the UN—people like me who have been trained with strict adherence to scientific integrity. I’ve been told that you can read about the whole thing on the Internet. Wait. Just listen to the rest of it before you interrupt. I saw what they put on that shelf near the ceiling. I was able to describe the picture, which I couldn’t possibly have seen any other way except if my consciousness had left my body.”

  “Consciousness.” Niels sighed. Hannah had a fanatical glint in her eye that he didn’t care for.

  “Call it whatever you like. The soul? I don’t know. All I know is that because of this proof, we need to rethink everything.”

  “What we need to do is get out of here before the sun goes down, Hannah.”

  “Do you remember the story I told you? About my colleague at the Niels Bohr Institute who could never say no? The guy whose goodness became a problem?”

  “We need to leave, Hannah. Will you help me?”

  “Look at yourself, Niels. You tried to save those girls. You wanted to stop that car with your bare hands.”

  “I just did what anyone else would have done.”

  “Go running around the National Hospital looking for a good person? Is that something everyone else would do, Niels?”

  “It’s because I’m manic. Manic-depressive. I’m not well.”

  “Yes, you are! You’re a good person who does good things.”

  “We need to get out of here.”

  “We can’t. And you know it. You know full well what I’m getting at.”

  Niels didn’t reply. A sentence was echoing in his mind: But first I have to do something evil.

  “Remember the story about Abraham? God commanded Abraham to take Isaac up on the mountain. You told me about it when we were lying on the sand dunes by the North Sea.”

  “I don’t want to hear about it.”

  “You’re going to have to,” said Hannah.

  Niels shoved aside the covers and tried to swing his legs down.

  “You need to stop being good, Niels. It’s your only chance.”

  “Hannah.” Niels stopped. He remembered Worning’s words: But first I have to do something evil. He sat forward and looked out the window at the sun.

  “You need to sacrifice something. Something you love. Something to show that you’re listening. Do you understand what I’m saying, Niels? I was dead, and then I was brought back to life. I saw with my own eyes an opening into . . . something else.”

  Niels let her talk.

  “We—you, Niels—have to accept it. There’s something bigger than us. And you need to show that you understand.”

  “What do I need to show? What exactly do I need to show?”

  “You have to show that we’re capable of believing in something other than ourselves.”

  Niels felt like throwing up. Or hitting her. Giving her a good slap. Like they used to do to hysterical women in the old days. He looked with sympathy at her swollen face. Those intelligent eyes of hers. She could be reached only through rational arguments. “And then what, Hannah?” he heard himself say. “What happens then?”

  “I don’t know. Maybe . . . maybe we just go on. And then a new generation is born. The new thirty-six.”

  He shook his head. “We need to get out of here,” he whispered without any conviction. “How much time do we have?”

  “It’s no good, Niels. Think about the Italian. He was also part of the system. You need to stop being good. You—”

  He interrupted her, shouting, “How much time do we have?”

  “About ten minutes. Then the sun will set.”

  Niels yanked the IV out of his arm. A spurt of dark red blood shot up. Outside in the corridor, they heard people yelling and running. Hannah got up from her wheelchair to hand Niels a tissue. For a moment she wavered. Then she regained her balance. While Niels got himself out of bed, Hannah rummaged through the cupboard in the room.

  Niels was as pale as a corpse when he grabbed her hand and said, “Help me, Hannah. Help me so I can at least try to escape.”

  She turned around. She was holding his gun in her hand. “Okay.”

  18

  3:31 P.M.—10 minutes until sundown

  Leon had heard it on the police radio several minutes ago: Dark green van drove through a red light at Town Hall Square. At high speed. A police cruiser giving chase a few hundred yards behind. It had nothing to do with him, but he stood up and went over to look out the window.

  “Are you a doctor?” a voice asked behind him. “I need some help.”

  Leon was about to correct the patient’s mistake when he heard the radio again: Dark green van being pursued along Østersøgade. We’re blocking off Fredensbro. A faint alarm bell sounded inside Leon’s head. Christmas Day. Not an entirely normal day; in fact, it tended to be sleepier—aside from those family patriarchs who insisted on driving after having downed four Christmas beers and five shots of aquavit. It was highly unusual to see a car speeding through the city streets, slippery with snow, on Christmas Day. Leon grabbed the radio. “Albrectsen? Have you got a view of Fælledvej?”

  His question was answered at once: “Great view. All calm.”

  Leon stared out the window. At first he wasn’t sure. But when he saw other cars veering out of the way, he caught sight of the vehicle through the blowing snow. Tinted windows. An old van. Dark green Citroën van on its way across the bridge and heading for the National Hospital.

  “Fuck!” Leon raised his voice as he spoke into his walkie-talkie. “Albrectsen! Have you been listening to the chase in progress?”

  “Yes! I’ll cover the main entrance.”

  “Team two! Have you got the driveway to the basement parking garage covered?” He waited for their answer. “Team two? Jensen?” No answer. “Albrectsen? Can you see team two?”

  “No. They were here a minute ago.”

  Leon could hear the sirens from two patrol cars in pursuit of the van. “Shit!” He set off running as he shouted: “Albrectsen! Take up position farther down the street so you can cover both the entrance and the driveway.”

  He stopped abruptly. He couldn’t believe his eyes when he saw Niels come limping down the hallway. “Bentzon? What are you doing here? Shouldn’t you be in bed?”

  Niels was leaning on Hannah, and she was leaning on a crutch. They made quite a pair. “What’s happening, Leon?”

  “Nothing that you need to worry about. We’ve got it under control.”

  They both heard Albrectsen’s desperate shouting on the radio: “It drove past me! Heading for the parking garage!”

  Leon took off running. He sounded like a general in a war. “No one gets out of that van! Understand?”

  “We need to go, Hannah.” Niels’s voice was weak. Just getting out of bed had drained most of his strength. And his back was b
urning.

  “We can’t, Niels. What about the roof? We’ll have a good view from up there.”

  “Okay. Where’s the elevator?” Niels staggered toward the nearest elevator. As he passed a window, he looked outside. A strong wind was making the trees nearly bend in half. A few cars had hydroplaned on the slick streets and were stranded like beached whales in the big snowdrifts—no doubt because they had tried to avoid colliding with the speeding van. And through the whole scene, the last rays of the sun were fighting a losing battle, trying to penetrate the snow and the gathering dusk. The reddish-yellow rays made it look as if all of Copenhagen—the rooftops, the streets, the air—were on fire. “Judgment Day,” whispered Niels. “So this is how it looks: quiet and calm and red.”

  He saw a dark van speeding along the street, turning with a screech, and heading down the ramp to the parking garage under the hospital. The van crashed into several parked bicycles that were thrown into the air.

  “Come on, Niels!” Hannah was standing next to the elevators.

  Niels went over to join her. He couldn’t get the image of the dark van out of his mind. “Not the roof,” he said as he practically fell into the elevator.

  “It’s our only chance, Niels. The exits are all blocked. It’s impossible. And the basement . . . you heard it yourself—it’s full of police.”

  “The main entrance. We’ll have to risk it. We just have to get past them.” Niels pressed the button for the ground floor and then collapsed.

  “Niels!” Hannah sat down next to him. “What’s happening to you?”

  “My back. It’s burning. . . . How much time left?” Niels could taste blood. “My mouth.” He gave up.

  “Come on, Niels.” She tried to haul him to his feet.

  He heard her words, but they didn’t make sense. He was sitting on the floor of the elevator, hunched over. The pain in his back was unbearable. It felt like he was leaning against burning coals.

  “Your nose is bleeding.”

  As if in a trance, Niels lifted his hand to his nose. Hannah was right.

  “We need to go up on the roof, Niels.”

  “Why?” he managed to stammer.