“I’ve reread this material about the donor many times,” Axel says. “It’s in wonderful order. I’m impressed. Everything seems to be perfect.”
“There’s an interesting thing about desire,” Raphael begins as if he hadn’t heard Axel’s words. “A desire you want more than anything else in the world; myself, I wish that my wife was alive today and we could be together again.”
“I understand…” Axel murmurs.
“But I have a quirk. I like to see desire balanced by its opposite,” Raphael says.
He takes a hamburger and a scoop of french fries. Then he passes the platter to Axel.
“Thank you,” Axel says automatically.
“The desire is on one side of the scale,” Raphael continues. “The nightmare is on the other.” “The nightmare?”
“I mean to say… we live our lives with many outer trappings while inside… we have deep unfulfilled longings that we desire, and also nightmares that never come true.”
“Perhaps we do,” Axel says.
“You wish desperately to be able to sleep again, something very good, but what… I’m talking about the other side of the scale here… what is your worst nightmare?”
“I really don’t know,” Axel says with a smile, raising his brows.
“What are you afraid of?” Raphael shakes salt over his french fries.
“Illness, death… mostly pain.”
“Of course, everyone fears pain, I agree with you there,” Raphael says. “But as far as I am concerned, my worst nightmare, as I’ve begun to realize, concerns my son. He’ll soon be grown up, and I’m afraid he’ll turn away from me and pursue his own life.”
“So, loneliness?”
“Yes, I believe so,” Raphael says. “Complete loneliness is my worst nightmare.”
Axel shrugs. “Well, I’m already alone; the worst thing has already happened to me.”
“Don’t say that!” Raphael jokes.
“No, what I’m afraid of… oh, well, let’s not talk about it.”
“What?” Raphael coaxes.
“Forget it, I really don’t want to talk-”
“You fear you were the reason a young girl committed suicide so long ago,” Raphael says, and lays something on the table.
“Yes-”
“And who might think of suicide today?” asks Raphael quietly.
“Beverly,” whispers Axel, and sees that the item Raphael has set on the table in front of him is a photograph.
It’s facedown.
Axel doesn’t really want to touch it, but he does and turns it over. He pulls his hand sharply back. Beverly’s wondering face is clearly visible in the light of a camera flash. He stares down at the photograph, almost too afraid to understand its meaning. It is a warning. The photograph was taken a few days ago, inside his house, in the kitchen, the day Beverly tried to play the violin and then went away to find a vase for her dandelion bouquet.
103
After two hours on the Finnish navy’s gray boat, Joona finally sees Raphael Guidi’s luxury yacht smoothly gliding along on the horizon. In the sunlight, she appears to glimmer like a ship made of crystal.
Captain Pasi Rannikko comes over to stand next to Joona. He nods toward the huge yacht.
“How close do we need to get?” he asks intently.
Joona gives him an ice-gray look.
“As close as we can. We need to see what’s going on,” he says calmly. “I need-”
A huge throb of pain knifes through his temples. He falls silent and grabs on to the railing and tries to breathe slowly.
“What’s the matter?” Pasi Rannikko asks with a bit of laughter in his voice. “Are you getting seasick?”
“No.”
The pain shoots through his head again and he grips the rail tightly. His medicine is out of the question even if it would help. He cannot lose his focus. He cannot accept the exhaustion it would bring.
The wind of their passage cools the drops of sweat that appear on Joona’s forehead. He thinks about Disa’s gaze and her serious, open face. The sun strikes across the rolling surface of the sea, and in his mind he can see the bridal crown. It shines in its display case in the Nordic Museum. The braided tips gleam. He thinks of the scent of wildflowers and a church that has been decorated in leaves for a summer wedding. His heart is pounding so strongly in his ears that he doesn’t hear the captain speaking to him.
“What did you say?”
Joona looks in confusion at Pasi Rannikko beside him and then out toward the huge white yacht.
104
Axel feels nauseous. His eyes are drawn back to the photograph of Beverly.
Raphael dips his greasy fries into a pool of ketchup on his plate.
Axel looks up to see a young man standing in the doorway, watching them. He looks very tired and worried. He’s holding a cell phone.
“Peter!” Raphael calls jovially. “Come on in!”
“Please, no,” Peter answers in a gentle voice.
“That wasn’t a request.” Raphael smiles, but anger quirks his mouth.
The boy walks over and shyly says hello to Axel.
“This is my son.” Raphael introduces them as if they were at a normal dinner party.
“Hello,” Axel says in his usual friendly way.
One of the men from the helicopter is now standing next to the bar. He’s throwing peanut shells toward a happy, ragged dog. His gray hair looks like metal and his glasses flash white.
“Nuts make him sick,” Peter remonstrates weakly.
“When our dinner is through, could you bring out your violin?” asks Raphael in a suddenly tired voice. “Our guest is interested in music.”
Peter nods. He is very pale. There is a sheen of sweat on his face and the rings around his eyes are almost violet.
Axel makes an attempt to smile.
“What kind of violin do you have?”
Peter shrugs. “It’s much too good for me. It’s an Amati that belonged to my mother. She was a musician.”
“An Amati?”
“Which one do you think is best?” Raphael breaks in. “Amati or Stradivarius?”
“It depends on who’s playing it,” Axel replies.
“You’re Swedish,” Raphael says. “There are four violins made by Stradivarius that now reside in Sweden. None of them were played by Paganini, however, and I imagine-”
