‘You could say that.’
‘How long do they stay here?’
‘Seven weeks.’
‘So you hire this place for the whole of the summer?’
‘Yes. We have two devotional weeks for adults in August as well. Our girls have about half their time left now.’
‘Twelve, you said?’
‘Yes, twelve.’
‘And what do you spend the time doing?’
‘Prayers, self-denial, purity. Those are the pillars of our faith – but I don’t think you are interested in that kind of spirituality, Chief Inspector.’
Don’t say that, Van Veeteren thought. It’s more a question of what the hell it means, and how a normal thirteen-year-old could possibly be interested in it.
‘How many adults?’
‘Four. Me, and three assistants who help with practical things.’
‘Women?’
‘Yes.’
Van Veeteren thought for a moment.
‘Can you give me a list of the girls you have here now?’
Yellinek shook his head.
‘Why not?’
‘It’s not in our interest. Neither the girls’ nor their parents’.’
‘Meaning what?’
‘We have had some experience of the police. As you said yourself.’
‘You realize that I can compel you to tell me if needs be?’
Yellinek didn’t turn a hair. Merely paused, while contemplating his crossed thumbs.
‘Of course. But I’m not going to give you any names unless you force me to by violent means.’
‘So you think you are above the law?’
‘There’s more than one law, Chief Inspector.’
‘Rubbish.’
Van Veeteren leaned back in his chair and fumbled in his breast pocket for a toothpick. Found one, held it up to the light and inspected it for a moment, then inserted it into his lower teeth. Yellinek observed his shenanigans with undisguised scepticism.
‘So you are suggesting that I should accept your word?’
There was a glint of something yellow in the depths of the prophet’s beard. Possibly a smile.
‘Yes. That’s what I’m suggesting.’
‘I want to speak to one of the girls. Several of them, in fact.’
Yellinek raised a finger and shook his head.
‘We don’t allow them to do anything that isn’t in their programme. It’s important that they are left alone during this time.’
Van Veeteren took out the toothpick.
‘Are you saying that you keep them incommunicado for seven weeks?’
‘You don’t understand what this is all about, Chief Inspector. It’s sometimes necessary to protect the spiritual. Not to expose it to the bumps and bashes of everyday life. It’s absolutely essential at this stage of their education.’
‘So you are refusing to let me speak to any of them? Just for a couple of minutes?’
‘It’s so easy to undermine what has been built up over a long period. I know this might sound harsh, Chief Inspector, but you have to understand that we mean well. We believe in what we are doing. We are practising our religion – it’s easy to mock and pour scorn upon us, but we have a legal right. Since you seem to be so obsessed by rights and the law…’
He looked at the clock. Van Veeteren replaced the toothpick. Five seconds passed.
‘And those telephone calls?’ he wondered. ‘That anonymous woman who insists that one of the girls has been murdered – what do you have to say about that?’
‘Malevolence,’ said Yellinek without hesitation. ‘This isn’t the first time we’ve been accused, Chief Inspector. We’ve been through this before, as I’ve said.’
Van Veeteren thought that over.
‘What about the women?’ he said. ‘Your assistants. If I were to grab one of them and chat to her for a while – would that reduce your spiritual palace to ruins?’
‘Of course not,’ said Yellinek. ‘I have to leave you now. It’s time for prayers. If you stay put here, I’ll send one of them in to you.’
He left the room. Van Veeteren closed his eyes and clenched his fists. After a while he clasped his hands instead.
What a load of crap, he thought. Oh lord, give me strength!
He made up his mind on the drive back.
Not to start more intensive investigations and not to shoot and sink Yellinek’s spiritual longboat, but to stay in Sorbinowo for another day.
Perhaps just one. Perhaps several.
For there was something. It wasn’t clear what, but hidden away somewhere in this story – which presumably wasn’t a story at all – was something that reminded him of… Hmm, what did it remind him of?
He didn’t know. The underhand and unmotivated sacrifice of a peasant? A monster concealed inside stupidity? Why not?
Or was it just his imagination? The woman he had spoken to for ten minutes was the one who had come to escort him from his car. She introduced herself as Sister Madeleine, and didn’t have much to say over and above what Yellinek had told him already.
Except that she had been a member of the Pure Life from the very start. Unlike Sisters Ulriche and Mathilde, who had joined rather later.
That the group was a collective, but that Yellinek was their spiritual leader.
That her life had changed eleven years ago, and since then she had lived in enlightenment and purity.
That the three sisters shared all the chores at the camp; that the girls – all twelve of them – were still wandering around in the dark, but were on their way towards the light, and everything was in the hands of God.
And in Oscar Yellinek’s.
Also that all these things were beyond the chief inspector’s comprehension, because he was not initiated.
Van Veeteren spat out an ill-treated toothpick through the driver’s window and chanted a long sequence of curses to himself. Tried to identify the dark suspicion that had been lurking deep down inside him ever since he backed out from between the pine trees.
All the time, in fact. While he was talking to Yellinek. While he’d been sitting waiting, and watched the girls walking in neat formation back from their bathing expedition. While he’d been listening to Sister Madeleine’s pious outpourings.
He eventually realized that it was probably a question of being unable to do anything about it. Impotence.
Pure, unadulterated impotence.
He made a supreme effort to suppress it, and lit a cigarette instead.
There are too many ingredients in this soup, he decided. Far too many. I don’t even know if it is a soup.
Anyway, time to stop thinking, he decided a few moments later. I’m just rambling on. Like some damned television personality.
‘Word for word?’ asked Kluuge, puckering up his brow. The chief inspector noted that it was quite a high brow with room for rather a lot of creases, and decided that he must not underestimate what was behind it.
