would have to disappear before the undisputed king of Egely deigned to carry on a conversation with a mere commoner.
“Is there anything about it in Uffe’s case file?” asked Carl.
Again the director nodded, as he continued to chew very slowly.
“Has it ever happened since?”
The man shrugged.
“Did it happen again or didn’t it?”
The director shook his head.
“I’d like to see Uffe alone today. Just for ten or fifteen minutes. Is that possible?”
The director didn’t reply.
So Carl waited until the man finished his lunch, wiped his mouth on a cloth napkin, and licked his teeth with his tongue. A single gulp of ice water and then he looked up.
“No, you can’t be alone with Uffe” was his answer.
“Dare I ask why not?”
The director gave him a condescending look. “Your profession is a pretty far cry from what we do here, isn’t it?” He didn’t wait for Carl to respond. “We can’t risk having you cause a setback in Uffe Lynggaard’s development. That’s the way it is.”
“Is he in a period of development? I didn’t know that.”
Carl noticed a shadow fall across the table and turned around to face the supervisory nurse, who gave him a friendly nod, immediately stirring up memories of better treatment than the director was willing to offer.
She gave her boss an authoritative look. “I’ll take care of this. Uffe and I are going out for a walk now, anyway. I can accompany Mr. Morck.”
It was the first time Carl had stood next to Uffe Lynggaard, and he now saw how tall he was. Long, lanky limbs and a posture that indicated he spent his time sitting down, hunched over a table.
The nurse had taken Uffe’s hand, but apparently he didn’t care much for that. When they reached the thickets near the fjord, he let go of her hand and sat down in the grass.
“He likes to watch the cormorants. Don’t you, Uffe?” she said, pointing at a colony of prehistoric-looking birds perched in clusters of semidead trees covered with bird shit.
“I’ve brought something that I’d like to show Uffe,” said Carl.
She looked with alert interest at the Playmobil figures and car that he pulled out of a plastic bag. She was quick on the uptake-he’d noticed that the first time-but maybe not quite as accommodating as he’d hoped.
She placed her hand on her nurse’s badge, presumably to give her words added weight. “I know about the episode that Karen Mortensen described. I don’t think it would be a good idea to repeat it.”
“Why not?”
“You want to try to replay the accident while he watches, right? You’re hoping it will open something up in him.”
“Yes.”
She nodded. “I thought so. But to be honest, I don’t know if I should let you.” She made a motion to get up, but then hesitated.
Carl cautiously placed his hand on Uffe’s shoulder and squatted down next to him. Uffe’s eyes shone happily in the reflection from the waves, and Carl understood him. Who wouldn’t want to disappear into this beautiful clear and blue March day?
Then Carl set the Playmobil car on the grass in front of Uffe and one by one put the figures in the car seats. The father and mother in front, the daughter and son in back.
The nurse closely watched every move Carl made. He might have to come back another day and repeat the experiment. But right now he wanted to convince her that at least he knew enough not to abuse her trust. That he regarded her as an ally.
“Vroooom,” he said warily, driving the car back and forth in front of Uffe on the grass, to the great distress of a couple of bumblebees flitting among the flowers.
Carl smiled at Uffe and smoothed out the tracks left by the car. That was clearly what interested Uffe most. The flat-pressed grass that sprang back up.
“Now we’re going out driving with Merete and Mum and Dad, Uffe. Oh, look at this, we’re all together. Look, we’re driving through the woods! Look how lovely it is.”
Carl glanced at the woman in the white uniform. She looked nervous, the lines around her mouth showing traces of doubt. He had to be careful not to go too far. If he shouted, she would flinch. She was much more into the game than Uffe, who was just sitting there with the sun glinting in his eyes, letting everything around him mind its own business.
“Look out, Dad,” warned Carl, imitating a woman’s voice. “It’s slippery, you might skid.” He gave the car a little jolt. “Watch out for the other car-it’s skidding too. Help, we’re going to crash into it.”
He made the sound of a car braking and metal scraping the undercarriage of the car. Now Uffe was watching. Then Carl tipped the car over, and the figures tumbled out on to the ground. “Look out, Merete! Look out, Uffe!” he shouted in a high voice. The nurse leaned toward Carl and put her hand on his shoulder.
“I don’t think…” she said, shaking her head. In a second she would take Uffe by the arm and pull him to his feet.
“Bam!” Carl said and made the car roll along the grass, but Uffe didn’t react.
“I don’t think he’s really here,” said Carl, assuring the nurse with a wave of his hand that the performance was over. “I have a photograph that I’d like to show to Uffe,” he went on. “Is that OK? Then I promise to leave you in peace.”
“A photograph?” she asked, as Carl pulled all the pictures out of his plastic bag. Then he took the photos of Dennis Knudsen that he’d borrowed from his sister and lay them on the grass while he held up the brochure from Daniel Hale’s company in front of Uffe.
It was clear that Uffe was curious. He was like a monkey in a cage, who, after looking at thousands of humans making faces, finally sees something new.
“Do you know this man, Uffe?” asked Carl, studying his face attentively. The slightest twitch might be the only signal he’d get. If there was any possible response from Uffe’s sluggish mind, Carl had to make sure he saw it.
“Did he come to your house in Magleby, Uffe? Was this the man who brought the letter to you and Helle? Do you remember him?” Carl pointed to Daniel Hale’s bright eyes and blond hair. “Was this the man?”
Uffe stared at the picture with a blank expression. Then his eyes shifted downward until he was looking at the photos on the grass in front of him.
Carl followed his gaze and noted how Uffe’s pupils suddenly contracted as his lips parted. The reaction was very clear. Just as real and visible as if someone had dropped a carjack on his toes.
“What about this man? Have you seen him before, Uffe?” asked Carl, quickly moving the silver anniversary photo of Dennis Knudsen’s family close to Uffe’s face. “Have you?” Carl noticed that the nurse was standing behind him now, but he didn’t care. He wanted to see Uffe’s pupils contract again. It was like having a key in his hand and knowing that it was the right one, but not which lock it would open.
But now Uffe was looking straight ahead, quite calm, and his eyes had glazed over.
“I think we should stop now,” said the nurse as she tentatively touched Uffe’s shoulder. Maybe all Carl needed was twenty seconds more. Maybe he would have been able to reach him if only they’d been alone.
“Didn’t you see his reaction?” Carl asked.
She shook her head.
Damn it.
Then he put the framed photo back on the ground next to the other one he’d borrowed in Sk?vinge.
At that instant a jolt passed through Uffe’s body. First in his torso, where his chest sucked in, then his right arm, which jerked up at an angle in front of his stomach.
The nurse tried to calm Uffe, but he paid no attention to her. He started taking short, shallow breaths. Both the nurse and Carl heard it, and she began to protest loudly. But Carl and Uffe were alone together at that moment. Uffe in his own world, on his way into Carl’s. Carl saw his eyes slowly grow bigger. Like a shutter in an
