“Oh, I’m sure someone does. But, like I said, we’re not at liberty to discuss the case.”
“I realize that it’s a matter of confidentiality, and I know that Uffe Lynggaard is not under state guardianship. But I didn’t drive all the way out here to go back home empty-handed. Could you let me see his case file?”
“You know very well that I can’t let you do that. If you’d like to speak with our attorney, you’re welcome to do so. The files aren’t accessible right now, anyway. And Uffe Lynggaard no longer lives in this district.”
“So the documents have been transferred to Frederikssund?”
“I’m not at liberty to say.”
What a patronizing bitch.
Carl left her office and paused outside in the hallway for a moment, looking around. “Excuse me,” he said to a woman who came walking toward him, seemingly too tired to put up much of a fight. He pulled out his police badge and introduced himself. “Could you possibly help me find out the name of the person who handled cases in Magleby ten years ago?”
“Ask in there,” said the woman, pointing to the office he had just exited.
So it was going to take a court order, paperwork, phone calls, waiting time, and more phone calls. He just didn’t have the energy for all that.
“I’ll remember this the next time you need my help,” he said to the woman, giving her a slight bow.
The last stop on their expedition was the Clinic for Spinal Cord Injuries in Hornb?k. “I’ll drive myself up there, Assad. Can you take the train home? I’ll drop you off in Koge. There’s an express train to the Central Station.” Assad nodded, not looking terribly enthusiastic. Carl had no idea where the man lived. He’d have to ask him sometime.
He glanced at his odd companion. “We’ll start working on a different case tomorrow, Assad. This one is going nowhere.” Not even that promise set off any fireworks in Assad’s face.
At the clinic Hardy had been moved to another ward, and he wasn’t looking good. His skin was OK, but darkness lurked in his blue eyes.
Carl put his hand on Hardy’s shoulder. “I’ve been thinking about what you said last time, Hardy. But it’s not going to work. I’m really sorry. I just can’t do it. Do you understand?”
Hardy didn’t say a word. Of course he understood; at the same time, of course, he didn’t.
“How about if you help me out instead, Hardy? I’ll give you all the facts, and you can take your time thinking them over. I could use some extra input, you know? I don’t give a flying fuck about any of it, but if you help me out, then at least we’ll have something to laugh about together.”
“You want me to laugh, Carl?” said Hardy, turning his head away.
All in all, it had been a really shitty day.
16. 2002
All sense of time vanished in the darkness, and with it the rhythms of her body. Day and night merged like Siamese twins. There was only one fixed point in the day for Merete, and that was the click from the retractable hatch in the arched door.
The first time she heard the distorted voice on the loudspeaker, the shock was so explosive that she was still trembling when she lay down to sleep.
But if she hadn’t heard the voice, she would have been dead of thirst and hunger; she knew that. The question was whether that might have been a better alternative.
She had noticed the thirst and dryness in her mouth disappearing. She’d noticed the fatigue dulling her hunger, the fear being replaced by sorrow, and the sorrow by an almost comforting acknowledgment that death was approaching. And that was why she lay there calmly, waiting for her body to give up, when a grating voice revealed that she was not alone and that she ultimately was going to have to surrender to someone else’s will.
“Merete,” said the woman’s voice without warning. “We’re sending in a plastic container. In a moment you’ll hear a clicking sound and a hatch will open over in the corner. We’ve seen that you’ve already found it.”
Maybe she’d imagined that a light was turned on, because she pressed her eyes closed and tried to gain control over the shock waves that were flashing along her nerve endings. But there was no light in the room.
“Can you hear me?” shouted the voice.
She nodded, breathing hard. Now Merete noticed how cold she was. How the lack of sustenance had sucked all the fat out of her body. How vulnerable she was.
“Answer me!”
“Yes. Yes, I hear you. Who are you?” She stared into the darkness.
“When you hear the click, go over to the hatch at once. Don’t try to crawl inside. You won’t be able to do it. After you take out the first container, there will be another. One of them is a bucket that you can use as a toilet to relieve yourself. The other bucket holds water and food. Each day we’ll open the hatch, and then we’ll exchange the old containers with new ones. Do you understand?”
“What is this all about?” She listened to the echo of her own voice. “Have I been kidnapped? Is it money you want?”
“Here comes the first one.”
There was a scraping in the corner, and a slight whistling sound. Merete moved toward that sound and noticed that the bottom of the arched door set into the wall opened to deliver a hard container the size of a wastebasket. When she pulled it out and set it on the floor, the hatch closed for ten seconds and then reopened, this time revealing a slightly taller bucket that was presumably supposed to serve as a dry toilet.
Her heart was pounding. If the containers could be exchanged so swiftly, that meant someone had to be standing on the other side of the door. Another human being very close.
“Won’t you please tell me where I am?” She crawled forward on her knees until she was sitting right under the place where she thought the loudspeaker was located. “How long have I been here?” She raised her voice a bit. “What do you want from me?”
“There’s a roll of toilet paper in the food box. You’ll get another one each week. When you need to wash, use water from the container that’s inside the toilet bucket. Remember to take it out before using the toilet. There’s no drain in the room, so be sure to lean over the bucket to wash.”
The sinews in her neck were stretched taut. A shadow of anger fought with the tears, and her lips quivered. Snot ran from her nose. “Am I supposed to sit here in the dark. . the whole time?” she sobbed. “Can’t you turn on a light? Just for a moment? Please!”
Again the clicking sound and a little whistle, and the hatch shut.
After that came many, many days when she heard only the fan, turned on weekly for ventilation, and the daily clattering and whistling of the hatch door. At times the intervals in between seemed interminable; at other times it felt as if she’d just lain down after a meal when the next buckets arrived. The food was the only physical bright spot for her, even though it was a monotonous diet without any real flavor. A few potatoes and overcooked vegetables along with a scrap of meat. The same every day. As if there were a bottomless pot of stew, always simmering out there in the light, in the world on the other side of the impenetrable wall.
She had thought that at some point she would get so used to the dark that the details of the room would emerge, but that didn’t happen. The darkness was irrevocable, as if she were blind. Only her thoughts could send any light into her existence, and that wasn’t easy.
For a long time she was truly afraid of going mad. Afraid of the day when all control slipped out of her hands. She made up images of the world and the light and the life outside. She took refuge in all the nooks and crannies of her brain — those areas that usually become silted up with the ambitions and trivialities of life. And memories of the past slowly surfaced. Tiny moments with hands that held her. Words that caressed and comforted. But also
