The Exception: A Novel Part 16

Paul orders a taxi for her. Everyone tries to be supportive and comforting until the taxi takes her away. Then they go into Pauls office to talk.

Paul is calm.

I know this has been a terrible shock for everyone, especially for Anne-Lise. But looking at it from a broader perspective you know, I think we should allow ourselves to feel slightly relieved. Its clearly not Mirko Zigic or some other experienced killer whos threatening the Center. They wouldnt waste their energy on this kind of prank. Its quite a relief, dont you agree? This looks more like the handiwork of one of those neo-n.a.z.i teenagers. They keep sending me letters, but theyve never done anything worse than break three windowpanes at my home. And they shoved a decaying fish through our mail slot. This has been nasty, but, when all is said and done, it has also clarified the situation: were not being chased by Zigic or any of his kind.

Paul has clearly prepared this little lecture for them, and they listen in silence, unwilling to interrupt him.

Now, many of us will have come to the conclusion that whoever is bothering us must have a link to the Center. We cant be certain, of course. Our front door isnt locked during working hours, so anybody could slip inside.

Ill take action immediately. Naturally, the board must be told, and Ill explain that we need a secure front door and a CCTV camera on the stairs. If the camera is wired up to our computers, we will all have access to an on-screen window showing us who is approaching our landing. And well be able to lock both our front door and the street door with one keystroke, without moving from our desks. The board has to accept that its worth spending money on getting our security systems up to speed.

They will ask me how I can be sure that this isnt an inside job. Now, I cannot imagine that any of you would want to do this kind of thing to Anne-Lise its simply unbelievable. But, again, I have to say that we cant be certain at this stage just that we can choose either to trust each other or not.

Paul looks pleased with himself. My experience tells me that trust always brings out the best in people. Much more effective than trying to control everyone, which is what Ill tell the board. Unless theres a strong reason for changing my mind, I choose to trust the people I work with.

He pauses, but n.o.body speaks up.

Do you agree? Or does anyone want to comment?

n.o.body does.

They all stay on to chat, mostly about the reasons for a private war against DCIG and when the person might have sneaked in. Iben notices that Paul, for all his declared faith in his colleagues, is alert and watching them closely. Will someone give herself away? His casual questions and intent way of listening are quite transparent.

But then, hes not the only one. They all make a point of insisting on their good intentions, each declaring, with slight variations, The person who did this must be caught! meaning It wasnt me!

If we all agree that none of us has done this, Malene asks, shouldnt we call the police?

Paul smiles. Yes, of course. Youre right. Ill do it at once.

In the evening Iben visits her mother in Roskilde. It is the ninth anniversary of her fathers death and they have met on that day ever since he died. It has become a tradition for them to have a special meal together, with the fine wines and good food that Ibens father liked so much. At the dining table, halfway through the first course, the appetizing smell of sauteed lamb chops is wafting through from the kitchen. As usual, it is very quiet.

Ibens mother wants to talk about the Center and Ibens safety. Iben would prefer to change the topic, but explains patiently: Mom, it cant have been any of the men you read about in our newsletter. The police checked the locks and said there was no sign of a break-in.

But someone did get in all the same.

I dont think Serbian ma.s.s murderers can be bothered with sending e-mails or tricks like pouring blood into a magazine box.

Iben could have admitted that, ever since receiving the threatening e-mail, she has taken a combat knife with her everywhere she goes. In fact, she has taped the sheath upside down to her leg, the handle level with the top of her sock, and has practiced drawing the knife in case of a violent attack. Her fastest time so far is three seconds. But she hasnt told anyone about the knife, not even Grith or Malene. Her own nervousness has started to annoy her, but it doesnt abate.

Her mother seems to be concentrating on the remains of her portion of salmon terrine, but looks up quickly when Iben draws in her breath. She doesnt say anything.

I know it must seem far-fetched to you, but what Grith said about split ident.i.ties is the only thing that makes sense to me. Its somehow reasonable that one personality neednt know what the other one is up to. And if all that is true, then Anne-Lise might have poured the blood into the box file herself. Maybe some part of her hates her everyday self. I know it sounds odd, but can you think of a better explanation?

All this is somehow unbearably grim. Iben blinks a few times before starting up again. Grith says that its not that unusual. And Anne-Lise seems different I mean, I think she has psychological problems.

Ibens mother slowly eats her last forkful of terrine before coming out with whats on her mind: By now youve been there long enough, havent you? It would look all right if you applied for other jobs, I mean.

I dont want to apply for other jobs.

There you are well, all I thought was What we do matters. Someone has to do it. And anyway, Malene works there too.

Yes, of course.

They take the plates to the kitchen. Ibens mother returns with the meat dish, and Iben follows with the red wine and salad.

Ibens mother is a nurse and her father was a doctor. When Iben reflects on her childhood, she often thinks that she and her father were less than kind to her mother. From the age of six onward, Iben devoured books and loved discussing them with her father. Ibens mother was never a member of their smart little mutual admiration society. Grith has argued more than once that Iben collaborated with her father because she was terrified that he would despise her as he did her mother. Later Iben became a medical student, just like her father. One of the outcomes of Ibens breakdown within a year of his death was that she left medicine and took up literature instead.

They drink a toast to the dead man and speak a little about him, recalling some of the things they did together. Then Iben asks her mother how her week has been.

Still, Iben cant help feeling irritated at her mothers remark about how she should get a new job. Her mother wont leave it alone, hanging on even though she tries to change the subject.

But it seems such a ghastly place. You wouldnt want to stay on forever, would you?

It isnt ghastly at all!

Blood pouring from the shelves, and Mom, thats an exception! Ive been there for two years now, for Christs sake! Other things have happened. Please stop harping on about this.

But of course I didnt mean Iben really wants to be nice, to behave like the sympathetic person she finds it so easy to be when she is with other people. Its strange, but the minute she sets foot in this house, she feels resentful, hemmed in, fighting to break free. Whenever she comes here it doesnt take long before she starts slouching and dragging her feet across the pretty parquet floors. She waves her arms about more than usual when she holds forth at the dining table. This time, in the middle of their conversation, she hears herself allude to her s.e.x life in Copenhagen (she doesnt have one). Besides, true or not, she would never say anything like that even to her friends.

Its a fact: back home in Roskilde Iben becomes somebody else. She understands perfectly well why her mother finds it hard to get along with her.

Over the beautifully cooked lamb chops, Iben tries to explain. Isak Dinesen wrote something to the effect that we take on the ident.i.ty of the masks we wear. In books about the psychology of social interaction, people are always discussing role-playing and how we pick roles for each other. But thats not what really happens. Its the other way around Speaking of roles reminds Ibens mother about a previous neighbor, who once joined an amateur dramatic society attached to the open-air stage in the Dyrehaven Park. But Iben wont be distracted by anecdotes.

We dont just put on a different mask or choose to act out a role. The change isnt external, just as it isnt voluntary. Instead, we are transformed into s.h.i.+fting but fully realized people, or ident.i.ties. Each of us contains a variety of ident.i.ties.

Ibens mother has to get up to see to the apple tart in the kitchen. Afterward, Iben cant find a way to return to the subject.

Iben travels back to Copenhagen by train. She sits very still, looking out into the darkness. The lights in Hje Taastrup slip by. Its good that Mom is worried about me, she thinks. I wouldve been much more upset if she hadnt cared.

Time pa.s.ses, but she still mulls over the evening with her mother. Did I really give her a chance to understand what I was talking about? That bit about Isak Dinesen and ident.i.ties perhaps I was being too cryptic?

The inside of the train car is reflected in the dark windowpane. She has to press her face against the gla.s.s and shelter her eyes with her hands in order to see what is outside.

Did I even bother trying to make myself understood? I meant to sound as if I was sharing my thoughts with her, but in reality I was being ruthless. I didnt even give her a chance to understand. It was almost as if I wanted to punish her. Isak Dinesen? Christ, how stupid can you get? There I was, trying to make a detached a.n.a.lysis of ident.i.ty, and all the time I was caught up in one myself, trapped inside the head of a rebellious teenage girl!

Iben leans back and stops trying to penetrate the blackness outside. Inside the car there isnt much to see. She is almost alone. The only other pa.s.senger is a man sitting several seats away. Only the back of his round, bald head is visible.

She thinks about the others at the DCIG. What characters can they turn into?

chapter 18.

when Iben comes into work the next morning, Camilla isnt there. Iben presses Play on the blinking answering machine and hears Camillas voice saying that she isnt well and wont be in today.

Camilla doesnt answer her phone, but theres a recorded message giving her cell phone number, so Iben dials it.

Camilla is reticent. Its personal. Id rather not get any of you mixed up in this. Her voice is as melodious and warm as usual, but a little cagey.

Iben tries to find out what the problem is, but Camilla avoids straight answers. She is scared that much is obvious; but Iben is curious.

Where are you?

Oh, nowhere special.

But you dont want to be at home?

No, not right now. Better not.

Look, Camilla, if you have any idea at all about who might be behind the stunt with the blood, then I think you ought to tell the rest of us.

Youre right, I know that. But Im absolutely certain that the person Im worrying about isnt after any of you.

Camilla, listen. We were the ones who received those e-mails. And the blood was on Anne-Lises shelf.

Camilla doesnt reply. They chat for a while and then she bursts into tears.

There was a man once it was so silly of me, but I went out with him. A long time ago. I didnt want to tell you. The whole thing is so I just didnt want anyone to know.

Oh, Camilla, you mustnt worry. Iben feels herself soften. She holds the receiver with both hands, the way Malene sometimes does. You can trust us! Honestly, all of us and I mean all know what its like to fall for somebody whos not the right one. Dont feel bad. Weve all been there!

Iben gives Camilla time to reply, but the line remains silent. Iben rea.s.sures her again. n.o.body will judge you. It doesnt matter who youve been in love with. But are you sure we have nothing to fear from this man that he isnt after any of us?

No! You mustnt think that. Please dont worry.

Its hard to think of what to say next.

Is Finn there with you?

Oh, yes. Well, no but he will be, when he comes back from work. He can leave early today.

It would be nice to know where you are.

Id rather not say.

Im only asking because there might be something one of us can do for you?

No, thank you. But the fewer people who know, the better, I think.

Paul turns up in the middle of their conversation and wants to speak to Camilla too. She promises him that sh.e.l.l be back in a few days, when the new security measures are in place.

Malene arrives next. Iben notes the taxi-borne neatness of her hair and skin; she isnt windswept and red with cold from cycling. Malenes arthritis has probably acted up this morning, but Iben makes no mention of it. They chat about Camilla and who the man shes scared of might be.

According to Malene, Camilla is imagining things. The e-mails couldnt possibly have come from one of her old boyfriends. Never mind who he is it doesnt make any sense.

Anne-Lise comes along to talk to them. After what she went through yesterday, she might well have called in sick herself. Paul urged her to take time off, but she must have more steel in her than anyone thought.

Malene holds the fingers of one hand with her other hand. She waits until Anne-Lise has left.

Iben, did Camilla ever tell you who she went out with before she got together with Finn?

Later that afternoon Iben is on the phone, talking to yet another unemployed graduate. Practically every week, a few of these forlorn young ex-academics contact the Center and want to know if there might be a position available, or at least a freelance job, or a project a.s.sistants.h.i.+p or a chance to make the coffee, anything. Iben tries to turn them down as gently as possible, but many wont take no for an answer.

While Iben listens to the job seekers long list of qualifications, Anne-Lise emerges from the library. She looks deeply serious.

Malene, may I have a word?

Of course.

Malene makes no sign of getting up, so Anne-Lise asks again: Could you join me in the library for a moment?

Malenes calm seems almost a pose. Why? Cant you tell me whatever it is in front of Iben?

I thought maybe youd prefer Theres nothing you can say to me that Iben isnt allowed to hear. Malene turns to look at the door to Pauls office. Today, just for once, its been left wide open, and she smiles faintly, as if he can see her. And the same goes for Paul. Now that weve got an open-door policy Anne-Lise still waits.

Finally Malene gets up. With a quick wink to Iben, she follows Anne-Lise into the library.

Neither of them closes the door, but Anne-Lise leads the way in among the shelving so that Iben can hear only a distant murmur of their voices.

Ibens anxious caller gives up, and she returns to her work on a new article for Genocide News on the ma.s.s killings in the Sudan. Two million people murdered over the last twenty years. She has never written anything lengthy on Sudan before, and her desk is awash with books and papers.

The voices in the library are raised now. Paul probably cant hear what is being said, but Iben can. Anne-Lise is speaking loudly, but sounds unsure of herself.

say they have never heard of any library search facility here, except whats available online.

Malene crisply enunciates every word a sign of anger that Iben recognizes. And who would have liked to know about other search options?

Thats not important.

Anne-Lise, I normally tell people what is available. If I have failed to do so, I would like to know who has been given the wrong information. Obviously. How else can I make up for my mistake?

The answer is inaudible, but Malenes voice cuts through the mumble. Anne-Lise, please get on with it. I have other things to do.

A short pause. Now Anne-Lise speaks very quickly. What Ive heard, in so many words, is that youve tried to keep customers away from the library.

So tell me who youre referring to!

Certainly that doesnt matter.

Malene sounds even more authoritative now. Im sorry, but I disagree. You and I are in this together. Anything you hear about one of your colleagues should be pa.s.sed on its part of being a team. Were meant to work together here you too! The Center is what matters. And because of that, everyone must be given the chance to make up for her mistakes, so that we can improve our service.

Anne-Lise turns the volume down again, but now her tone is plaintive.