'If there was any other place for them,' he said. 'But in spite of everything we've never got any further than… cages.'
'Do you care about them?' she asked. He had to look up to see what her expression was. She was teasing him again.
'Yes, I do, although I don't have much time for them. Besides, I'm not a prison guard. But I know that the guards do care about them.'
'Ah, yes!' She shrugged. 'I suppose we do have some of the most humane penitentiaries in the world.'
'Humane?' He couldn't keep the hardness out of his voice. 'The prisoners dope themselves up. They escape by jumping out of windows, and break their legs or even their necks. They go crazy, rape each other, kill each other, and take their own lives. That's how humane it is!'
He took a deep breath.
'You really do care about them!' She smiled.
'I said I did.'
'I had to be sure.'
They both fell silent, and once again he was astonished by this strange conversation. It was as if she lacked the usual respect for the authority he represented, which made people speak with deference or not at all.
'Errki,' he said at last. 'Tell me about Errki.'
'Only if you're truly interested.'
'Of course I'm interested!'
She went out into the corridor. 'Let's go to the cafeteria and have a Coke. I'm thirsty.'
He found himself trotting after her, struggling to suppress the commotion in his head, or his chest, or his stomach, or wherever it was right now. He was no longer sure of anything.
CHAPTER 10
'Which way do you think he went?'
'Through the woods.'
Dr Struel pointed a little to the left of the Beacon. 'There's a small lake that we call the Well, but we've already looked there. If he went past it and continued on, he would come out on the main road where it passes under the motorway. And if he was seen in Finnemarka, that direction would make sense.'
A little while later they were sitting in the cafeteria, drinking Cokes. 'Would it be possible for you to explain to an ordinary person what psychosis actually is?' Sejer asked her.
'Are you an ordinary person?'
There was something mocking about her tone of voice, and he wasn't quite sure whether the question was meant as a compliment or something else. In his confusion he started fiddling with the mobile phone attached to his belt.
'In some ways it's impossible because it's so abstract,' she said in a low voice. 'But I think of it as a kind of hiding place. It's a matter of having all the normal defence mechanisms totally break down. Your soul is thrown wide open, so that anyone and everyone can step right in. Even the most innocent advance is experienced as a hostile attack. Errki has found himself a hiding place. He's trying to survive by creating a survival strategy, a sort of corrective force that very gradually takes over entirely and restricts his freedom and the possibility of making his own choices. Does this make any sense?'
She took a sip of her Coke and wiped her mouth with the back of her hand.
'Does he want to escape it?'
'Most likely he doesn't, and that's the problem. All forms of illness have their benefits, as we know, like having someone to pamper us when we're in bed with a fever. It's so nice.'
That's easy for you to say, he thought.
'But how sick is Errki?'
'He's got plenty of problems, but at least he's not in bed. He eats his food, and he takes his medicine. In other words, he's being cooperative.'
'And… schizophrenia? What is that?'
'We call it that, in all our helplessness, because it's practical to have categories for things. It's when a psychosis has been going on for a while. Let's say several months.'
'Has Errki been sick for a long time?'
'He's one of those people everyone has given up on. He wanders from place to place like damaged goods.' She sighed heavily. 'If he killed that woman, I'm afraid there's no hope for him. He won't get any more help. Not the kind of help that I want to give him.'
'But…' he looked at her as he raised his glass, 'what do you know about the cause of Errki's illness?'
'Not much. I have my theories.'
'Can you tell me about them?'
'I've often wondered whether it has something to do with his mother's death.'
'According to the rumours, Errki killed her,' Sejer said quickly. A bit too quickly.
'Oh yes, I've heard that. He spread the rumour himself.'
'Why?'
'Because he believes it's true.'
'And you don't?'
'I choose to keep an open mind. We all deserve a chance,' she said firmly.
Yes, he thought. I deserve a chance too. But I probably wouldn't take it even if it fell into my lap. She's not wearing a ring, but that doesn't mean anything. In the past it was a definite sign, it was possible to separate out the ones who were available. The way he had with Elise. Long, smooth fingers and no ring… What on earth am I sitting here thinking about? Sejer wondered.
'How did she die?' he asked.
'She fell down the stairs.'
'He didn't push her?'
'He was eight years old.'
'Eight-year-olds push and shove all the time. By accident, or when they're playing. Errki was home, wasn't he?'
'He saw it happen.'
'Did anyone else?'
'No.'
'What exactly do you know about it?'
'Almost nothing. He was sitting on the steps when help arrived, and he may well have been sitting there for a long time, unable to move.' She pulled a pack of Prince Lights out of her blouse pocket. 'It happened so long ago.'
'One other thing. Officer Gurvin said something about him living in America for a while.'
'He lived in New York with his father and sister, for seven years. They came home to Norway at regular intervals, for Christmas, and so on.'
'And… is it true that he was in contact with a rather unusual person?'
She suddenly smiled. 'I haven't been able to check on that. I talked to his father, but he admits that he didn't keep very good tabs on what Errki did with his free time. He was more involved with his daughter. In contrast to Errki, she was good at everything, and socially accomplished. But you're thinking of the magician, aren't you?'
'Maybe he put some strange ideas in his head.'
'I think he had plenty of those already. But I don't expect that it helped matters. The worst thing is…'
She fell silent and stared at her Coke. Sejer could see that she was deciding whether to continue, or whether she might be overstepping a boundary.
'The worst thing is,' she repeated, 'that sometimes I've wondered whether he really might have that ability. Whether he can see more than the rest of us, and even make things happen through deep concentration. I can't
