he was a goner, that he would never walk again. But Axel was so pale and his eyes so black, as though he might attack the first person he saw. And I would be the first person, Reilly thought. He retreated a step, just to be on the safe side.
‘We were walking down the road,’ Axel said. ‘We were in the middle of a conversation. My dad was quite talkative; he always had something to say, an opinion about something or other. A point of view. Suddenly he shot off to the left and then he simply ran into the ditch head first. I’ve never seen anything so terrifying. It was like the air going out of an inflatable toy. All I could think about was the stinging nettles. He was wearing a short-sleeved shirt. When I bent over, I noticed his jaw had slackened, it was disgusting. On one side. Do you know what I mean?’
Reilly knew. He saw Axel touch his jaw. He moved to the wall for support. The drugs he had taken were making him dizzy.
‘His face was completely distorted,’ Axel said. ‘I didn’t know what was happening, so I phoned for help. It was a long wait. I couldn’t get anything out of him. I just squatted down in the sun thinking that someone had beaten him up. Because that’s what it looked like. Someone had given him a beating that he would never recover from. I didn’t know exactly what had happened, but I was certain of this: he had been destroyed. He was gurgling and waving one hand as though he wanted me to go away. I didn’t know what to do and I couldn’t bear to look at him. I had to get up and walk a little way down the road, but I kept hearing the noises he was making. Then they came to get him. They rolled him on to a stretcher and later into a bed. That was the last time we had a conversation.’
‘But he does make sounds?’ Reilly tried. Gravity making its way through his drug-induced haze.
‘Yes, but they’re completely meaningless,’ Axel interrupted him. ‘Just gurgling and grunting. It would be better if he would just shut up. I can hardly bear to look at him, either. I don’t even know if he is pleased to see me. I don’t think so. I don’t think he gives a toss. Everything about it is embarrassing. It’s humiliating and revolting. He needs help with everything. From strangers.’
‘Does he know who you are?’ Reilly asked cautiously.
‘Yes.’
‘How do you know?’
‘He starts to cry.’
Axel paused. The pain hammered away at his jaw and he was about to be overcome by a violent attack of self-pity.
‘He’s been lying in that bed for four years,’ he said.
‘Mm,’ Reilly sighed.
‘He’s got bedsores,’ Axel said. ‘Lots of them. They’re really deep.’
Reilly nodded for the second time. He had never seen bedsores because his job was moving beds around, but he understood that if you spent years lying in a warm bed, then your skin would not get the circulation that it needed, especially not where the skin was stretched tightly across the bones. It grew red and tender and eventually tiny cracks would form. That was how he imagined it.
‘They’re deep,’ Axel repeated. ‘His body is riddled with holes and the holes have turned into long tunnels.’
Reilly’s eyes widened. He visualised the long tunnels through the haze, and he began to feel queasy.
‘It’s like an eel has bored through him,’ Axel said, ‘and it’s no use closing the sores, they’re too big. I was there once when they changed his bandages. They stank of decay. He’s completely perforated. Like a worm-eaten apple.’
‘What’s this really about?’ Reilly asked. ‘You’re completely manic.’
‘Infected wisdom tooth.’
‘Christ Almighty. Does it hurt?’
‘Like hell,’ Axel replied.
‘You might have told me straight away,’ Reilly said. ‘Instead you go on about your perforated dad.’
Axel groaned. ‘I just wanted to make a point,’ he said. ‘My dad did everything right. His whole life. Because he believed it would lead to something good. But I’ve learned my lesson. I don’t owe anyone anything. I reserve the right to make my own rules. I’ve never signed any contracts and I’ve never made any promises. I could do the right thing my whole life, but no one would reward me for it.’
‘I’m not sure where you’re going with this,’ Reilly stuttered.
‘I’m not going anywhere,’ Axel barked. ‘I can give everything I own to a poor man in Africa, and the next second I might get run over by a truck. That’s how it is and we have to accept it. So don’t ask me to make moral decisions! And don’t you whine on about Jon!’
Reilly opened his mouth to say something, but Axel continued, his eyes shining.
‘Don’t you dare quote the Koran!’ he yelled.
Reilly pulled a chair over to the window. Axel had a view of the river. They saw a tanker move slowly, its lights shining. A long silence followed Axel’s bitter rant.
‘What do you think it’s carrying?’ Reilly asked and pointed.
Axel massaged his jaw and said nothing.
‘Chemicals, probably,’ Reilly mused.
‘I don’t give a damn about its cargo,’ Axel said. ‘For all I care it could be chocolate mice.’
‘The crews of chemical tankers become sterile,’ Reilly said. ‘They never have kids. By the way, we don’t import chocolate mice,’ he added, ‘we make our own. It’s Nidar isn’t it, who makes the mice?’
Axel focused on his breathing. He knew that oxygen was important when it came to pain management. ‘I need to talk to Hanna Wigert,’ he said. ‘I need to know if she suspects anything. I need to be in control.’
‘We lost that in December,’ Reilly said.
Axel swallowed a large mouthful of red wine.
‘It’s worth keeping your eyes open,’ he said. ‘And then there’s Molly. I don’t trust her either. Girls like her have a vivid imagination. And fantasies can turn into rumours.’
Reilly shook his head in disbelief. ‘You had best take an axe and kill off all of Ladegarden just to be on the safe side. Cut them down. Right at the root. Best kill Ingerid, too, she’s probably reading Jon’s diary this very minute.’
Again he looked out at the huge ship. The child in him marvelled that it was possible for thousands of tonnes to float. Axel would explain in his usual way that it was a matter of even weight distribution, it was always about that. Also, when you move through enemy territory, he would say, it’s a question of putting your feet down with care.
‘I fancy working on a boat,’ Reilly said. ‘Being in constant motion, under the sky, seeing new cities, new landscapes. Standing on the top deck at night and gazing at the stars. The feeling of floating, drifting, not being tied to anything. They earn good money too. Not that I care about that.’
Here he glanced at Axel. ‘“Better starve free than be a fat slave,”’ he said.
‘I’m starting to get fed up with the Koran,’ Axel said.
‘It’s not from the Koran. It’s just an old proverb.’
They were silent. Reilly savoured the gentle haze that filled his head and made him feel brave and brimming with confidence. The drugs dulled his conscience, and he became generous and indulgent towards himself. I haven’t really done anything wrong, he thought, I’m a victim. Of circumstance. Of course I bloody am. He looked out at the river again. Then he burst out laughing at the idea that the huge ship might be loaded with chocolate mice after all. He imagined the mice escaping through the packaging and darting around the hold, crawling around the boat and spilling out on to the deck while the crew pressed themselves against the rail and watched the invasion.
‘Could you shut up, please,’ Axel said. ‘I’m in pain.’
Reilly calmed down and felt remorseful.
‘I’m really sorry about your dad,’ he said.
Axel blanked him. Reilly kept looking at the tanker. Her slow progress, her beauty and elegance on the grey water mesmerised him.
‘I’ve never laid a hand on anyone in my life,’ Axel said out of the blue. ‘Not on Jon, or anyone else.’
Reilly wanted to reply, but the drugs had made him sluggish and he was incapable of formulating a sentence.
