Redemption aka A Conspiracy of Faith

15

The next night, he made sure he brought his hostess and temporary lover to the brink of climax. In the seconds before she threw back her head and drew in breath to the very bottom of her lungs, he removed his fingers from her crotch and left her lying there, muscles quivering, eyes flickering.

He rose quickly, leaving Isabel Jønsson alone with the issue of how best to discharge her arousal. She looked bewildered, which was exactly his intention.

Above her little row house in Viborg, the moonlight contended with thick, downy clouds. He stood naked on the patio and looked up at them, exhaling cigarette smoke through his nostrils.

From now on, the hours would proceed according to a familiar pattern.

First the arguments. Then she would demand some explanation for why their relationship had to end, and so suddenly. She would plead and they would argue, and then she would plead again. He would spell it out to her and she would tell him to pack his things and go, after which he would be out of her life for good.

At ten o’clock the next morning he would be leaving the hills of Dollerup Bakker with the children next to him on the front seat, and when they asked why they had turned off the road too soon, he would chloroform them. He knew exactly where this could be done without fear of discovery. His research had been thorough. A dense copse of trees that would conceal the van and his activities during the few minutes it would take for him to neutralize them and transfer their sedated bodies into the back of the vehicle.

Four and a half hours after this took place, having crossed the Storebælt Bridge and stopped off for lunch at his sister’s on Fyn, he would be back on Sjælland, at the boathouse by the woods of Nordskoven, north of Jægerspris. Just twenty paces through the thicket to the low-ceilinged space with the chains. Twenty paces, shoving two cowering figures on in front of him.

He knew the sound of urgent invocations from previous times crossing that little stretch of ground. He would hear it again.

Only then could negotiations with the parents begin.

He emptied his lungs of smoke and stubbed the cigarette out on the tiny lawn. He had a busy night and day ahead of him.

He was compelled to put aside his unpleasant suspicions that something was awry at home, something that threatened to turn everything on its head. If his wife was being unfaithful, it would be the worse for her.

He heard the patio door squeak behind him and turned toward Isabel’s confused face. Her bathrobe barely concealed her trembling nakedness. In a moment, he would tell her it was over on account of her being too old, though she was nowhere near. Her body was exciting and piquant, her presence made him hungry for her. It was a shame, in more ways than one, that their relationship had to end, though the feeling was by no means new to him. It had happened so many times before.

“You’ll catch your death out here with no clothes on. It’s freezing cold.” She tilted her head, not focusing on him. “What’s happening between us?”

He stood in front of her and took hold of the collar of her robe. “You’re too old for me,” he said without feeling, drawing the garment around the bareness of her throat.

For a second, she seemed to be paralyzed. Ready to either lash out at him or scream her anger and frustration into his face. Invective surged, only to stall on her tongue. He knew she would say nothing. Respectable divorced public servants such as she would never make a scene with a naked man on their patio.

People would talk. They both knew that.

By the time he awoke early next morning, she had already gathered up his things from around the house and thrown them into his bag. There was no breakfast, not even coffee, just a barrage of rather pertinent accusations and questions indicating to him that she was still on her feet.

“You’ve been into my computer,” she said, composed, though her face was bleached with anger. “You did a search on my brother. Fifty great big, elephant-size footprints in my data. Couldn’t you have gone to the trouble of finding out what I actually do in the local authority while you were at it? Don’t you think that was rather disrespectful of you? Rather stupid, perhaps?”

As she spoke, his mind was on the fact that he needed to use her shower, no matter what she said. The family out at Stanghede would surely not leave their children in the hands of an unshaven man smelling of sex.

What she said next, however, mobilized all his senses.

“I work in IT. I’m an expert. In charge of data security and IT solutions for Viborg Municipality. So I know what you’ve been up to. What the hell do you take me for? Don’t you think I can read the log files on my own laptop?”

She looked him directly in the eye. She was quite calm now. The first crisis was over. She had aces up her sleeve, could rise above self-pity, tears, and hysteria.

“You found my passwords,” she said. “But only because I put them there for you to find. I’ve been watching you. To see what you might get up to. There’s always something not right about a man who tells so little about himself. Something not right at all. You see, what men love more than anything else is to talk about themselves. Obviously, you had no idea!” She smiled wryly, sensing his alertness. “How come he never says anything about himself, I wondered. And to be honest, it was rather intriguing.”

He knitted his eyebrows in a frown. “So now you think you know me, because I’m silent about my own life and curious about yours?”

“Curious, that’s an understatement. I can see why you might want to check my dating profile, but why would you want to know about my brother?”

“I thought he was your ex and that maybe I could figure out what went wrong.”

She wasn’t buying. She didn’t care about his whys and wherefores. He had misjudged her, that was all there was to it.

“I will say to your credit, though, that at least you didn’t empty my bank account,” she said.

He forced an overbearing smile at her audacity. It was an expression he had been saving for their farewell after his shower, but these were new developments.

“But do you know what? We’re as bad as each other when it comes to being inquisitive,” she went on. “You see, I’ve been rummaging around in your things, too. And do you know what I found in your pockets and in your bag? Not a thing. No driver’s license, no social security card, no credit cards, no wallet, no car keys. Nothing. But do you know what else, mister? Just like women always leave their passwords in the most obvious of places, men are always stupid enough to leave their car keys on top of the front wheel if they don’t want to carry them around. And what a fine little bowling ball you have on your key ring. Does that mean you go bowling, then? You never said. And with a number one on it, too. Is that because you’re so good at it?”

At this point he began to perspire. It had been a long time indeed since he had lost control. And nothing felt worse.

“It’s all right, no need to worry. Your keys are back where I found them. And your driver’s license. And the registration certificate for the van, and your credit cards, and all the rest of it, for that matter. It’s all where I found it in the van. Tucked away underneath the mats.”

He studied her neck. It was not the delicate kind, and his grip would need to be strong. It would take a couple of minutes, but he had plenty of time.

“It’s true, I’m a very private person,” he said, stepping forward and placing a hand cautiously on her shoulder. “Listen, Isabel. I’m very much in love with you, but I simply haven’t been able to be honest with you. I’m married, you see. There are children involved, and this has been getting out of hand for me. That’s why it has to stop now. Do you understand?”

She tossed her head in a proud swagger. Wounded, but not defeated. She had known married men before who had lied to her, he was certain of it. As certain as he was that he would now be compelled to make sure he was the last man ever in her life who could cheat on her.

She swept his hand away. “I don’t know why you haven’t told me your real name, and I don’t know why everything else you told me was lies. You’re trying to tell me it’s because you’re married, but do you know what? I don’t believe that, either.”

And with that she stepped away from him, as though having read his mind. As though preparing to grab a weapon that lay hidden and ready.

When you suddenly feel like you’re adrift on an ice floe in the company of a slobbering polar bear, you do well to consider what avenues might be available. Right now, he had four.

Jump into the water and swim.

Leap onto another ice floe.

Wait and see whether the bear is hungry or not.

Kill the bear.

All four possibilities had their obvious advantages and drawbacks, but he was in no doubt that the fourth was the only real solution. The woman who had confronted him was injured and would defend herself by all means possible. Clearly because he had made her fall so deeply in love with him. He should have seen it coming. Experience had taught him that in situations such as this women easily became irrational. Often, the consequences would be fatal.

At this moment, he was unable to fully assess the scale of the damage she might inflict, and for that reason alone he would have to get rid of her. He would take the body with him in the van. Dump her somewhere, like the others before. Destroy her hard disk, make sure all traces of his presence in her home were removed.

He looked into her beautiful green eyes and wondered how long it would take before they ceased to sparkle.

“I’ve sent my brother an e-mail telling him all about you,” she said. “So now he’s got your car reg number, the number of your driver’s license, your name, civil registration number, and the address on the vehicle registration certificate. It’s not the sort of thing he normally deals with, but he’s inquisitive by nature. So if it turns out you’ve stolen anything from me, he’s going to find you. Get it?”

For a second, he was stunned. He wasn’t stupid enough to drive around with any document or credit card that might reveal his true identity. His sudden paralysis now was because until this moment he had never been in a situation where he could be linked to anything at all, and certainly he had never had the police lurking in the background. He found himself momentarily unable to grasp how he had got himself into this. What had he missed, where had he gone wrong? Was it really down to something as simple as not asking her what exactly her job in the local authority involved? He supposed that had to be it.

And now he was in a squeeze.

“I’m sorry, Isabel,” he said softly. “I’ve gone way over the mark here. Forgive me. I’m besotted with you, that’s all. Don’t think about what I said last night. I just didn’t know what to do. Was I supposed to tell you I was married with kids, or tell you lies? I’d lose everything back home if I really fell for you in a big way, and I almost did. I’ve been so on the verge, I needed to know everything about you. I couldn’t resist that, can’t you see?”

She looked at him scornfully as he considered what to do on his ice floe. The bear would hardly pounce without reason. If he drove away and never again showed himself in these parts, she would be unlikely to draw on her brother for information about him. Why should she? But if he killed her or abducted her, the police would already have something to go on. Even his most meticulous efforts to erase all traces of himself here would not be sufficient to remove that one pubic hair, that tiny semen stain, a fingerprint. They would put together a profile, no matter that they would be unable to find him in their registers. Burning the place down was unfeasible. The fire services might quickly extinguish the blaze, and someone might have seen him drive away. It was too much of a risk. And now there was a police officer by the name of Karsten Jønsson who was in possession of the license plate number of his van. He would have a description of the vehicle. Maybe she had even given her brother a description of him.

He stared blankly into space while she took stock of his movements. Though he was expert at sloughing his skin, though he always operated under one or another assumed identity, her e-mail may have contained exact details of his height and build, the color of his eyes, and perhaps even of more intimate parts of his body. He had no way of knowing what she had put in that mail, and that was where the whole thing imploded.

He looked into the harshness of her gaze, and it struck him that she was not a polar bear at all. She was a basilisk. Serpent, cockerel, and dragon in one venomous reptile. And if a man looked into the eyes of the basilisk, he would turn to stone. Even crossing its path would be enough to cause death by its noxious influence. No being could crow out its version of truth to the world like the basilisk. And only its own image was powerful enough to kill it. This he knew.

Therefore he said: “No matter what you might say, Isabel, I shall think of you. You’re so beautiful, such an amazing woman, I only wish I could have met you at some earlier time in my life. Now it’s too late. I’m sorry, and I apologize. I never intended to hurt you. You’re so lovely. I’m sorry.”

And then he brushed his fingers gently against her cheek. It seemed to work. Her lips quivered slightly.

“I think you should go now. I don’t want to see you again,” was what she said, though without conviction.

She would mourn the loss for a long time to come. What they had together was the kind of thing that didn’t come around so often at her age.

That was where he leaped from this ice floe to another. Neither the basilisk nor the polar bear would pursue him.

She let him go, and it wasn’t even seven o’clock.