Zigic lifts the laptop’s keyboard and fiddles with the small hard disk until it comes out. He puts it in the breast pocket of Nenad’s jacket and addresses him in Serbian.
Then he turns to his three captives. ‘OK, now I have one copy of the file. Where are the back-up copies?’
No one answers.
‘OK. Listen hard. If there turn out to be any other copies in existence after my visit to Denmark, then things will look bleak for you. Bleaker than you can imagine.’
Zigic is in no hurry to leave the flat. ‘Even if I can’t come back to kill you personally, someone else will. And don’t think it is just you who’ll die. Your families will die too and anyone close to you.’
This little speech sounds calm and considered. It is so tempting to think that once he has secured the files, all will be well.
‘Listen, if you want to get out of this, pray to God: “Dear God, please, please help us to remember to tell Mirko about every little thing. And please God, don’t let us make any tiny little mistake in anything we say to Mirko!” You get my message? You understand?’
‘Yes.’
Zigic has had enough. ‘Right. We’d better get out of here, but before we go, tell me this. Are there any more copies of the file kept anywhere else in this flat?’
‘No.’
‘Good. Next question. We are going to take you to a place we know. Is there anywhere we should stop off on the way, any other copies hiding elsewhere?’
Gunnar speaks up. ‘Yes. I have a copy in my office.’
Iben thinks this a very good idea. The reception at Gunnar’s office at the Ministry for Foreign Affairs is open around the clock and is well guarded. The building has long corridors, ideal for escape.
Zigic turns to him. ‘Is that so? At your office everyone will stay in the car, except for you and one of my men.’
He moves until his boots are immediately in front of Gunnar’s face. ‘And if you can’t produce a file, we’ll kill one of the girls. Immediately. This time, think carefully before answering. Is there a copy of the file in your office?’
‘No,’ Gunnar cries.
Iben is so disappointed in him. He has fallen into Zigic’s trap. It’s because he doesn’t dare not to trust the prison guard. Gunnar needs to believe in the only reassuring option, which is that they might survive if they cooperate.
Denim Suit has done the rounds of the flat. He returns with a broad grin on his face, waving a used condom, and Nenad joins him in fooling about with it. Denim Suit finally empties the contents over Malene’s head.
Iben wants to let Gunnar know he mustn’t worry about taking responsibility. ‘I have a back-up copy. I left it in the Ministry for Foreign Affairs for safe keeping.’
Zigic moves towards her and repeats his threat. ‘We’ll check. And remember, if it isn’t as you say, I’ll kill one of your friends. So it’s your turn to think carefully and answer me. Do you have a file copy in the Ministry?’
‘Yes.’
When Malene hears this, she gasps and shouts at Iben: ‘No, you don’t!’
Iben slips into Danish. ‘Malene, you’ve just killed me by saying that.’
‘What?’
‘He’ll kill me now. If I haven’t got a file he’ll kill me here. You’ve just told him to.’
Iben’s outburst makes Malene break down. She starts crying again.
Zigic kicks Iben. ‘You’re not to speak Danish. If you do, I’ll have your families killed.’
Malene tries to speak in English but is crying so hard she is incomprehensible. ‘But what else … Iben, oh, Iben … when they don’t find it, it’ll be me who …’
Zigic laughs. He walks towards Iben. Somehow, he draws his handgun. It is suddenly there, in his hand. It is the first time she has seen it. A little click as he releases the catch.
Gunnar speaks quickly. ‘Iben. That copy I gave you. Is that what you did? Deposited it in the Foreign Affairs Ministry?’
‘Yes.’
Zigic addresses Gunnar with condescending sarcasm. ‘Listen to you, no-balls. How interesting. I think I believe you.’
He bends over Iben, pushes the muzzle of the gun against the back of her head and slides it down until it digs into the hollow where the cranium meets the neck.
‘I believe you, Mister No-Balls.’ And he presses the trigger.
Her mind explodes. Gunnar. Malene. Evil. A future. A life. Omoro, who died. Rasmus, who died. Father, who died. A moment in Africa, when she stood on the back of a white pickup truck and decided that everything should be different from now on.
The blood under her cheek. The pool of blackening red is about to seep into her ear. She realises that there was no shot, no bullet in the chamber.
She looks up at Zigic. He’s still standing over her. She’s still lying at his feet.
Malene screams, a long howl, with her face pressed into the floorboards.
Zigic speaks quietly to Iben. ‘No such luck. Not this time. Maybe it will be second time lucky.’
Zigic orders them to get up.
Nenad turns to Iben, explains that he is going to clean the blood off her face. Of course – her bloody face would make driving through central Copenhagen unnoticed quite a bit more difficult.
Nenad goes off to fetch a roll of paper towels and, in the meantime, Iben slumps down on the middle of the three armchairs. He returns, cleans her nose and cheeks, twists the paper up her nostrils and pushes. It hurts like hell, but Iben thinks how careful he is being. It’s a little like being a piece of fillet, lovingly marinated by a top chef, but knowing that seconds later, he might decide to carve you up or tenderise you with a mallet.
While he concentrates on her nose, Iben fumbles a little under the chair. And then she too is ready to leave.
The three Serbs stroll downstairs with the prisoners between them. Zigic is at their side, with Denim Suit scouting in front of them and Nenad following behind, keeping watch up the stairwell. They have been told to be silent and when Gunnar tries to catch Iben’s eye, Zigic knees him in the groin.
It has snowed. A thin powdery layer covers the dark, abandoned street.
An empty police car is pulled up on the white pavement outside Gunnar’s front door. Iben looks around for the bodies, but they are nowhere to be seen.
Zigic orders them to climb into a silver car parked nearby, Iben first. She is to sit in the back, with Malene on her lap. Gunnar is told to sit on the bulge in the middle of the back seat and direct the driver. Denim Suit sits next to him. Zigic gets into the driver’s seat and Nenad into the front passenger seat, so he can keep his gun trained on the prisoners.
Iben’s broken nose means that she cannot smell her friend, but they are so close it seems that she can taste her. The sweet, iron flavour of blood blends with the warm pressure of Malene’s body. It is the same familiar body she has hugged so many times, when they met or when something important happened.
Iben realises that Malene’s hand is trying to find hers. She responds, reaches out, despite all that has passed between them. The car’s movements press Gunnar’s thigh against Iben’s, making her sense every slight vibration.
They cross the harbour canal on Knippel Bridge. One left turn to go. Zigic directs a question towards the back seat: ‘Tell me again. Is there a back-up copy at the Ministry?’
Gunnar and Iben both answer him: ‘There is.’
‘OK. And you know what happens if we don’t find it.’
‘Yes.’
The thin layer of fresh snow makes the streets and buildings look delicate. Iben’s face is close to her friend’s back. Once, when the car bumps, her nose hits Malene’s spine and it feels like being knocked out. The blood must have soaked through the paper twists, because now a red blob stains the pale blue material of Malene’s blouse.
Malene’s body is trembling and she is crying silently.
They park in the lot in front of the Ministry, a grand building that is almost completely dark. Two rows of street lamps cast a faint lig
ht on the snowy cobbled yard.
Zigic turns to Iben. ‘You. Are you ready to come in with me?’
Iben answers at once: ‘Yes.’
Maybe she sounded too eager. Zigic turns to Gunnar. ‘You know where it is too, right?’
‘Yes.’
‘And you’ve got a night pass to this place?’
‘Yes.’
‘Good. You should worry more about your pals than that bitch next to you. You come with me. And you know what happens if anything goes wrong? Anything at all?’
‘Yes.’ So it isn’t Iben who will have a chance to knife Zigic and flee from him in the long corridors of the Ministry. It is to be Gunnar. Unarmed.
Iben winks at him when he climbs out. It’s all she can do to try and tell him that he must feel free to do whatever he can, because when he returns to the car Iben and Malene will either be dead or gone.
Denim Suit gets out too. He starts pacing up and down restlessly away from the car. Perhaps he’s beginning to worry.
Malene moves to sit next to Iben. Nenad watches them. His gun looks different from anything Iben knows. Longer than other handguns, the muzzle cross-section is square and there is a bulge below the stock in front of the trigger.
He keeps an eye on them, but can’t see everything. Iben’s knife is hidden in her underwear, across her buttocks. She scratches her bum. The next moment she has the knife in her hand, hidden behind the back of the driver’s seat.
Malene sees it. Her face turns to stone, but she stays quite still.
Iben watches the pulse on Nenad’s neck. It beats in a slow rhythm. Da-dum. Da-dum. Da-dum. It is alive. Nenad’s life is there. She stares. Da-dum. Nenad is good at computers. He likes his coffee and biscuits. Nenad treated Iben’s nose with real care. There it is. That small beating thing, the spot that her knife must hit. Just there. And his life will be spurting out of him.
She leans forward, shifting the knife to her right hand behind the back of the driver’s seat. Her leg muscles stiffen in readiness to leap.
She waits. The best possible moment may not be now. Maybe it will never come. Maybe Denim Suit will return any second.
It might have been Malene’s quickened breathing that alerted Nenad, or the frightened look on her face. He moves over, craning to see. He will soon find out what Iben is hiding.
She throws her body across the small car and raises the knife with both hands. She plunges it in, straight into the life-sustaining pulse.
His blood sprays all over Iben and the car. His eyes roll up. His lips draw back over his teeth and his arms begin to shake. Still his eyes stare at her. Then slowly fade. He falls.
She grabs the gun from his lap. Denim Suit, who had been about ten metres away, must have heard something and runs back to the car. Iben doesn’t lower a window, just shoots at him through the rear window. She only touches the trigger, but a volley of shots rings out. It is some kind of miniaturised machine gun.
Malene’s face is white. She might be about to faint. Iben shouts at her, ‘Get out! Out! Out!’
Iben shouts, ‘Run!’
Malene runs.
Iben searches Nenad’s pockets, but can’t find a spare car key. She’ll have to get out and run too.
She’s only gone a few steps when Zigic and Gunnar come out through the brightly lit main door of the Ministry. Zigic sees her. He doesn’t turn towards Gunnar, but thrusts the knife sideways with an instant backhand stroke. The blade is driven precisely into the centre of Gunnar’s chest and he slumps to the ground.
Malene has reached the other side of the short channel of dark water flowing between the complex of Ministry buildings and draining into the harbour canal. She shouts that she has seen a taxi. Iben runs after her, following the waterway.
She is in time to see the taxi on the far side of the Ministry compound. Despite Malene’s flailing arms and shouting, the cab drives off.
Zigic is closing in on her. It is the worst conceivable place for running. The cobbled quayside is deserted. Tall, dark warehouses on one side; on the other, the black, freezing water of the canal. Where can she hide? There is nothing. She runs on.
Zigic is fast. Iben turns to shoot at him, but after a short burst the magazine is already empty. It is much smaller than a real machine gun. She throws it into the snow and runs.
Only one brightly lit object stands out against the dark – a large, white shape: a houseboat. It is moving away from the quay. The mooring ropes have been pulled in and its decks seem completely abandoned. It is about to sail away, to leave them, but it is slow. They can still leap on board.
Iben overtakes Malene, whose arthritic feet must be hurting her badly. A few seconds more and then Zigic will be almost on top of them and everything will be over for them both.
Iben reaches the dock and leaps. She lands on the deck. Now, rescue Malene. There’s only one short moment to spare. She turns to reach out for her friend.
Iben has a vision of a scene set in Gunnar’s flat. Malene and Gunnar are together, damp with sweat, in his bed.
Does she hesitate for just a moment too long before reaching out? She doesn’t know. How long before she acts? Two seconds, or three? She doesn’t know. Perhaps she doesn’t hesitate at all.
And now the distance is too great. Malene can’t jump.
She screams.
Iben stands under the bright spotlight on the small area of the deck. In front of her, a white steel wall with one door set in it. She pulls at the handle. It’s locked.
What? Fucking what? The houseboat is only three metres from the quay, moving so slowly it’s practically standing still.
She runs the few steps to the other side. The deck is barred there and she can get no further. She runs back. Barred again. She hammers on the door.
This boat will not mean freedom and survival. It is a floating cage. She climbs up a ladder welded to the white wall. She hangs onto the boat’s flank, illuminated, like a black dot on a huge sheet of paper. She is just a few metres from Zigic’s gun.
She keeps climbing while she looks over her shoulder. She watches. Zigic stops a few metres behind Malene. He raises his gun and aims. Iben moves on up, but it takes time to climb so many small rungs.
He is so close she can see his finger bending to press the trigger.
He has her now.
Iben
Malene
Anne-Lise
Camilla
52
Iben shows up in good time. Today looks like one of the first proper days of spring. The brilliant sunlight brings out every crack in the pavement where she stands. Weeds will soon push up through the gaps.
Malene’s parents are the only other people who are present. Like Iben, they wait in silence, staring down the long one-way street. Cars should be coming into sight soon.
Over the last five days Malene’s mother has phoned Iben almost every evening. Malene’s parents arrived in Copenhagen yesterday and Iben went to meet them.
Not one day will pass when Malene’s parents won’t wonder why it was their daughter and not Iben. Even now they must lie awake at night, thinking that it should have been Iben.
As for herself, Iben watches Animal Planet and eats bowls of ice cream with marshmallows night after night. She thinks about what Malene did. In bed she twists and turns and thinks about what she herself did.
A green car shows up at the bottom of the street. Malene’s father and mother wave. When the car draws near them Iben recognises Malene’s aunt and her three children, whom she has met on her visits to Kolding with Malene.
Another thing that Iben has been pondering: Should she go into therapy again? But then, how will it help now?
More cars pull up. She must not be so nervous. Zigic can no longer come anywhere near her.
A whole fleet of police cars responded instantly to the shootings. Zigic was easy to arrest, hemmed in by the icy water and holding an empty gun. The disk Zigic had removed presented a much harder case. Detectives searched Zigic, his car, the w
astepaper baskets and corridors of the Ministry, the rubbish bins in the yard and every other possible spot. Police divers combed the bottom of the canal several times. The disk was never found, but the man in the denim suit survived Iben’s gunshot and told the Serb police where to find Zigic’s computer. The data it held was sufficient to round up almost the entire organisation.
Malene’s aunt hugs her parents and, after a few quiet words, moves on to Iben.
‘Iben, this must be hard for you.’
‘Yes. It is.’
‘And you have much to be grateful for.’
‘Believe me, I know.’
The uncle talks to her too, as do other members of Malene’s family. Iben looks down at her feet. Do they see anything in her face? What are they thinking?
Frederik gets out of a taxi and catches sight of her. He walks quickly towards her, stumbles on the kerb, and saves himself by taking a couple of running steps.
Everyone has come: Malene’s friends as well as colleagues, Rasmus’s family, and of course Camilla, Anne-Lise, Paul and members of the DCGI board.
A transport van pulls up to lower two women in wheelchairs. Iben has never seen them before. Presumably they knew Malene from the Association for Young Arthritic People.
At last she spots Gunnar climbing out of another taxi. She observes his black suit, which looks new and expensive. His eyes are bloodshot and so swollen that his whole face looks different. She has been visiting him at the hospital over the last few days. Iben walks inside the chapel with Gunnar. She knows the music and hymns that Malene’s mother has chosen. All of them echo inside her head.
‘What happened on the quayside was an exception and I’m perfectly aware of it. In principle, it shouldn’t have happened. Her every instinct would have urged her to save her own life. So, what she did was – exceptional. Incomprehensible. Against nature.’
The Exception Page 50