The woman caught sight of the car. She leaned down to pat what lay inside the pram. They could see part of a blue quilt. Andreas strained his eyes.
'I see her handbag,' he whispered. 'It's on top of the blanket. That's great!'
'Why?'
'It's more difficult when they carry their handbags over their shoulders.' He sat for a moment, squinting under the peak of his cap, going over his plan of attack. It wasn't a time for threats or violence, but for pure cunning.
'You stay here. Keep the engine running. Find something in the glove compartment. Pretend that you're sitting here looking at a map or something. I'll get out and ask for directions – to somewhere. The football field. I'll snatch the handbag and hightail it back.'
'She'll get our registration number!'
'They usually don't. They get too damned scared.'
Andreas got out and approached the woman.
She took stock of him and slowed her pace, casting an uneasy glance at the car.
Women are strange, thought Andreas. It's as if they can smell that something is up. Or maybe they just look at things in a different way from men. Because they have more enemies, maybe that's it. To be a woman and have to be on guard all the time, what a fucking strain that must be! She had actually started in the direction of the car park, but then she would have to pass the car. Suddenly she turned the pram around and set off in the opposite direction. The manoeuvre was pitifully obvious. He wondered where the idea came from. Whether on account of the foaming sea, because her path was blocked on one side, or maybe because of the child, the responsibility for someone other than herself. And because they were male. A sudden fear. In addition, the wind was fierce and the waves were slamming hard against the shore. No-one would hear her if she yelled. Andreas stopped, shook his head and stared after her. She turned around, wary. He reacted fast and made a helpless gesture with his hands. The light was white and harsh, making his face shine. She started up a path that rose steeply along a ridge above the sea. Possibly a way out. Zipp sat in the car and waited. He followed Andreas with his eyes, Andreas followed the woman. She quickened her pace, but then she heard his voice behind her and again she turned around. In spite of everything, most people found it difficult to ignore someone who was calling out in a friendly manner. And surely he couldn't be dangerous or anything like that! What a ridiculous idea! She had merely taken precautions, withdrawn from a potential danger. The baby in the pram had shown her so clearly how dangerous the world was. She hardly slept at night; when she fell asleep the child was erased from her consciousness, and she couldn't allow that to happen.
'Excuse me!'
Andreas called out in a paper-thin voice. The yellow shirt flapped around his slender midriff. His right hand held the shirt over his knife. He looked like a very tall kid of confirmation age. Zipp, still in the car, saw the woman stop at last. It didn't seem right to choose her, not a woman with a little baby. There was something about the way that she was clutching the handle of the pram that frightened him. A sense of desperation in those white hands tight around the handle. It wasn't because of the handbag, but because of the little bundle under the blue blanket. He realised that something might happen, that she was unpredictable because of the baby. He put the brake on and got out. He did this even though Andreas had told him to stay in the car.
Andreas was almost level with her. He stopped a short distance away so as not to seem threatening. And he had an air about him that was hard to resist. Zipp could see in her eyes that she had read what it said on his cap, that she had noticed the little white cross and the words underneath. Her shoulders relaxed. She even ran her hand over her scarf, almost coquettishly, and looked at him with a smile. Andreas opened his mouth and said something. The woman replied and started pointing, past the car park and up towards the road. Zipp stared at the pram and caught sight of the handbag.
A nylon bag, black and red. Andreas moved a few steps nearer as he looked the other way. He was backing up towards the handbag. Zipp kept walking. Then Andreas noticed him, and for a moment he looked confused. They were high up on the path now. There was no beach below, just a bare slope descending to the water that ended in piles of sharp rocks. Andreas made his move. He leaned and
grabbed the handbag, then ran hell for leather back towards the car. The woman screamed. In desperation she tried to make sense of the new situation, the fact that they had duped her, after all, just when she had decided that they were decent boys with good intentions. Something took hold of her, a violent rage, or maybe it was a sense of impotence. She kicked on the brake of the pram out of pure reflex, and started running.
'Get in the car!' Andreas shouted. But Zipp stood stock still. They came running towards him, but he didn't move because he could see the pram starting to roll down the slope towards the water. She hadn't set the brake properly!
Paralysed, he watched the little blue plush pram tip over the edge. He screamed as he ran like crazy and almost collided with Andreas. But the woman stopped in her tracks. She finally realised what was happening. She whirled around and saw Zipp leap over the edge and vanish. And then she gave a piercing shriek and started to run. Andreas stopped where he was and stared in astonishment. The handbag slipped out of his hands. In the distance he heard the roar of the waves, the sound of heavy swells that almost knocked him over. He heard several faint screams before Zipp's blond head appeared over the edge. His face was red with agitation.
'Run, for God's sake, run!'
'What about the baby!' shouted Andreas. He grabbed the handbag and ran after Zipp.
'The pram stopped against a stone and tipped over! The baby fell out! Oh, fucking hell!' They threw themselves into the car and drove out of the car park with a screech of tyres. Neither of them dared to look back. But they could still hear the roar of the waves, a loud thundering that rose and fell.
'Shit! The baby was screaming its head off!'
'Calm down, it went fine.'
'Fine? That baby could have drowned!'
'He didn't drown!'
'But he definitely hurt himself. Shit, you should have heard him screaming!'
'It would have been worse if he didn't.'
'Jesus Christ.'
'Cut out the Jesus crap!'
The Golf roared along the road, sending up a shower of gravel and careening wildly. An ugly grinding sound came from the gearbox. Andreas had to hold on to the door handle. He tore off his cap and stuffed it into his pocket. His curls came tumbling out.
'She saw both of us. She saw the car. Do you have the handbag?'
Zipp was stammering.
'Do you think I'm an amateur?'
'We'll have the police at the door by tonight.'
'No, we won't. She's too preoccupied with the baby. She'll forget about everything else.'
'Are you out of your mind?' shrieked Zipp, as he struggled to hold the steering wheel in his trembling hands.
'I know what women are like. She'll be thanking God because the baby survived and she'll realise how unimportant the money is. Mothers have a whole new set of values in life. So shut up and drive!'
He bent over the bag and rummaged inside it. Pulled out a baby bottle.
'The milk's warm,' he said in surprise. After that he took out a dummy, a mosquito net for the pram and a purse. He tore it open. 'Her name's Gina,' he said.
'Is there any money?' asked Zipp in confusion.
'A few hundred-kroner notes. Four. Shit, Zipp, let me tell you, I'm a genius of cunning and strength! According to the Tyrell Corporation. Nexus 6 fighting model!'
*
My mother was not really a mother, but rather a kind of corrective entity. That's why I'm a well-behaved girl. I say 'yes, please' and 'no, thank you'. I have a firm handshake. Look people in the eye. Remember names. Remember little things, what people like and don't like, notice how attractively they blush. I'm not so dangerous. I take good care of myself, I do not lack for anything. It's no sacrifice. A person can argue his way through life and insist on having his own way or someone else having theirs, and live a life of pain. Why should I do that? Nothing is important to me, or not important enough. I don't mind standing at the end of the line, I'm a patient person. If
