Sun Storm aka The Savage Altar

Magdalena. See if Maja wants to talk to me. Tell her it’s about her holdings in the company.”

“I’m closing it,” said Magdalena threateningly, pulling the door back slightly as if she were going to slam it. “If your hand’s still there, you’ve only yourself to blame.”

You won’t do it, thought Rebecka. You’re a nurse.

R ebecka sits down and flicks through a magazine. It’s from last year. It doesn’t matter. She isn’t reading it anyway. After a while the nurse who first saw her comes back and closes the door behind her. Rosita is her name.

“You’re pregnant, Rebecka,” says Rosita. “If you’ve decided to have an abortion, we need to book you in for a D & C.”

D & C. That means they’re going to scrape Johanna out of her womb.

It’s when Rebecka is on her way out that it happens. Before she manages to get past reception, she bumps into Magdalena. Magdalena stops in the corridor to say hello. Rebecka stops and returns her greeting. Magdalena asks if Rebecka is coming to choir practice on Thursday, and Rebecka looks uncomfortable, makes excuses.

Magdalena doesn’t ask what Rebecka is doing at the hospital. That’s how Rebecka realizes that Magdalena knows. It’s the things you don’t say. That’s what always gives a person away.

“Let her in. The neighbors must be wondering what the hell’s going on.”

Maja appeared behind Magdalena. The years had etched two hard lines around the corners of her mouth. They grew even deeper as she contemplated Rebecka.

“You can keep your coat on,” said Maja. “You won’t be staying long.”

They sat down in the kitchen. It was spacious, with new white cupboards and a central island. Rebecka wondered whether the children were in school. Rakel must be in her early teens, and Anna should be at high school by now. Time had passed here too.

“Shall I make some tea?” asked Magdalena.

“No, thank you,” replied Maja.

Magdalena sank back onto her chair. Her hands moved to the cloth and brushed away nonexistent crumbs.

You poor thing, thought Rebecka, looking at Magdalena. You ought to get your own life, instead of being one of this family’s possessions.

Maja stared stonily at Rebecka.

“What do you want with me?” she asked.

“I want to ask you about Viktor,” said Rebecka. “He-”

“Just now you were standing out there showing us up in front of the neighbors and playing hell about Victory Print. What did you want to say about it?”

Rebecka took a deep breath.

“I’ll tell you what I think I know. And then you can tell me if I’m right.”

Maja snorted.

“According to the tax records I’ve seen, Victory Print has reclaimed VAT from the state,” said Rebecka. “A great deal of VAT. That indicates that considerable investments have been made in the company.”

“There’s nothing wrong with that,” snapped Maja.

Rebecka’s gaze was icy as she looked at the two sisters.

“The church of The Source of All Our Strength has informed the tax authorities that it is a nonprofit-making organization that is therefore exempt from income tax and VAT. That’s brilliant for the church, because it presumably rakes in a ton of money. The profit from the sales of books, pamphlets and videos alone must be huge. No translation costs, people do it as a service to God. No royalties to the author, at least not to Viktor, so the whole of the profit must have gone to the church.”

Rebecka paused briefly. Maja didn’t take her eyes off her. Her face was set, like a mask. Magdalena was gazing out through the window. In a tree just outside, a great tit was pecking eagerly at a bit of bacon rind. Rebecka went on:

“The only problem is that when the church is exempt from tax, it isn’t allowed to make deductions for its costs either. Nor can you reclaim VAT on those costs. So what do you do? Well, the smart solution is to set up a company and put all the costs and expenses that can give you back your VAT into that company. So when the church decides it’s a good idea to print books and pamphlets and copy videotapes itself, it sets up a trading company. The wives of the pastors are designated the owners of the company. The company buys all the necessary equipment. And it costs a lot of money. You get twenty percent of your outgoings back from the state. That’s a tidy sum in the pockets of the pastors’ families. The company sells services, printing and so on, cheaply to the church, and runs at a loss. That’s good, because then there’s no profit to be taxed. And there’s another good thing. The partners can claim up to a hundred thousand kronor each of those losses against their earned income for the first five years. I noticed that you, Maja, were paying zero tax this year and last year. Vesa Larsson’s wife and Gunnar Isaksson’s wife had minimal taxed income from employment. I think you’ve used the company’s losses to make your wages disappear, to avoid paying tax on them.”

“Yes, what about it?” said Maja crossly. “It’s perfectly legal. I don’t understand what you want, Rebecka. You of all people ought to know that tax management-”

“I haven’t finished,” Rebecka cut her off sharply. “I think the company has been selling its services to the church below the market price, and has therefore deliberately created losses. I’m also wondering where the money to invest in the company has come from. As far as I know, none of the partners has a fortune hidden away. Perhaps you took out a massive bank loan, but I don’t think so. I didn’t actually see any deficit in capital earnings for any of you. I think the money to buy the printing works and other things comes from the church, but it isn’t on record. And that means it isn’t a matter of tax management. That means we’re talking about tax fraud. If the tax authorities and the Economic Crimes prosecutor start poking about in all this, then this is what will happen: If the partners can’t account for where the investment money has come from, you will be taxed on that money at the business rate. The church has made an advance payment, which should have been recorded as revenue.”

Rebecka leaned forward and fixed Maja Soderberg with her eyes.

“Do you understand, Maja,” she said. “About half of the money you have received from the church has to be paid in taxes. Then there’s national insurance and supplementary tax. You personally will be declared bankrupt, and you’ll have the authorities after you for the rest of your life. On top of which you’ll end up in jail for quite some time. Society takes dubious financial dealings very seriously. And if the pastors are behind the whole thing, as I believe they are, then Thomas is guilty of both fraud and a breach of trust against his principals, and God knows what else. Siphoned money from the church into his wife’s company. If he’s sent to jail as well, who’s going to look after the children? They’ll be able to come and visit you. Some depressing visitors’ room for a few hours at the weekend. And when you get out, where are you going to find a job?”

Maja stared at Rebecka.

“What is it you want? You come here, into my home, with your speculation and your threats. Threatening me. The whole family. The children.”

She stopped speaking and covered her mouth with her hand.

“If you want revenge, Rebecka, then take it out on me,” said Magdalena.

“Shut the fuck up!” snapped Rebecka, and saw how the sisters jumped when she swore.

It made her feel like swearing again.

“Too fucking right I want revenge,” she went on, “but that’s not why I’m here.”

R ebecka is at home alone when the doorbell rings. Thomas Soderberg is standing outside. Maja and Magdalena are with him.

Now Rebecka understands why Sanna was in such a hurry to go out. And why she insisted Rebecka should stay at home and study. Sanna knew they were coming.

Afterward Rebecka thinks that she should never have let them in. That she should have slammed the door in their well-meaning faces. She knows why they’re here. Can see it in their faces. In Thomas’s serious and concerned expression. In Maja’s pursed lips. And in Magdalena, who can’t quite bring herself to meet Rebecka’s eyes.