The Girl in the Ice aka A Price for Everything

CHAPTER 52

In the dark Jeanette Hvidt was sobbing desperately, while Pauline Berg tried to think. It was difficult, her situation seemed to be hopeless, and there was apparently nothing she could do to change it. Her two handcuffs as well as the back of the chair they were attached to were solid restraints from which she could not possibly free herself. All that remained was help from outside, but Andreas Falkenborg’s words that they could scream as much as they wanted did not bode well for that solution either. To start with she could not think of anything to do other than using her five senses, as far as possible, at least to identify the situation she was in. And then with all the mental strength that remained to her, try to control the panic that was constantly threatening to take over. She turned her head and said harshly to Jeanette Hvidt, “Stop that snivelling.”

The girl did not obey but cried even louder. Berg shouted, “Shut up! Or do you really want to die down there in that hole?”

The crying stopped partially. Jeanette sobbed, “I don’t want to die. I’m not the one who’s going to die.”

“Then be quiet. Do you think it helps to cry?”

After a while her sobbing stopped, and she said, “You’re the one who lost. You’re going to die when he comes back.”

“Yes, I know.”

“You’re going into the bag, not me.”

“Yes, damn it; me, not you. Do you need to spell it out?”

Jeanette did not listen, but continued speaking.

“I’ll do everything he says, he won’t kill me.”

Berg was in two minds how best to approach the girl; tell her the truth and risk her going into a complete panic, or pretend to believe in her foolish hope. For now she chose the latter.

“It might work out that way, but listen to me now-”

But Jeanette was not listening. Instead she persisted in her delusion.

“I can be his slave for the rest of my life, never talk back, always be obedient.”

“Yes, that’s fine. Would you care to listen to something different?”

“There is only one grave, it’s for you. He’s keeping me.”

“Sure, sure-but then you’ll be alone, Jeanette.”

“I have him.”

The answer came hesitantly. It was clear that the girl was balancing on the brink of a breakdown, but Pauline Berg still detected some grasp of reality in her words. She refrained from commenting and waited. Shortly after that Jeanette said quietly, “I know he’s going to kill me too.”

“Yes, he will.”

“He measured two graves. I saw that before you came. He drew lines on the floor, but they’re covered in dust now.”

“Did he have the mask on when he was measuring?”

“That other grave is for me. He just hasn’t dug it.”

Pauline Berg then said as firmly as possible, “Jeanette, you have to listen to what I’m saying.”

“Excuse me, what was it you were asking about?”

“If he had the mask on when he measured the… when he measured.”

“My grave.”

“Yes, your grave, damn it. Did he have the mask on?”

“He always has the mask on.”

“No, he doesn’t, I’ve seen him without the mask. He’s just a very sick man.”

“Do you think they’re searching for us?”

“You can count on that. They’re searching everywhere.”

“You’re a cop, so they’re searching twice as hard. They’ll really want to find you.”

“They really want to find both of us, and we’re going to help them if we can.”

“How can we do that?”

“I have an idea. To start with we’ll use our five senses, one by one, to see whether we can determine anything based on that. Do you follow me?”

“Not quite, what good would that do?”

“We don’t know yet.”

“So when will we know?”

“Just do as I say, okay?”

“Okay… but there is one thing.”

“What?”

“I’m sorry for what I said when he was here. That wasn’t nice of me.”

“It doesn’t matter now.”

“I’m so afraid to get the prod, it hurts terribly. I can’t bear the thought of it.”

“Then don’t think about it. Tell me instead whether you can remember the five senses.”

“Of course I can: smell, hear, feel, see and taste.”

“Let’s try vision first. Now we’ll be quiet, open our eyes wide and then look around as much as we can. Do you follow me?”

“Yes.”

Pauline Berg slowly turned her head from side to side with eyes wide open, ready to capture the slightest visual impression. There was none, the darkness was total. After a while she interrupted the activity.

“What did you see?”

“Nothing. It’s completely black.”

“The same here, but I think I can smell paint.”

“The paint is from the cross. I didn’t think we’d reached smell yet.”

“No, that wasn’t the idea. Tell me about the cross.”

“He set it up yesterday, and then it was freshly painted, I think. He was giggling the whole time he was doing it. As if he was proud. The point was for me to be afraid, but I was more scared of the prod. I was also supposed to say when it was hanging straight.”

“He’s sick. Now let’s try to feel. Put your cheek and ear against the wall, and try to feel as much as you can. I’ll do the same.”

The wall was granulated and felt cold. Pauline Berg also thought it felt damp and concluded for both of them, “It’s an outside wall.”

“Yes, it is.”

“Fine, and now listen, this is the most important sense. Are you ready to concentrate?”

“I’m ready.”

The two women listened in the darkness. For a long time Pauline Berg did not hear anything other than her own and Jeanette Hvidt’s suppressed breathing, but then suddenly she picked up a faint, deep rumble vibrating through the cellar.

“Did you hear that, Jeanette?”

“Yes, it’s the S-train.”

Berg kept her voice down as best she could.

“How do you know that?”

“The bunker isn’t very far from the tracks.”

“We’re in a bunker?”

“Yes, it’s buried in the ground.”

“Why didn’t you say that before? I mean, that you knew where we are?”

“You didn’t ask me, and I thought you knew that too.”

Pauline admitted her mistake.

“No, I didn’t, but tell me what you’ve seen. Where are we?”

“Hareskoven, I think it’s called, you know, the forest. Our bunker is buried in the ground.”

“What is there around us?”

“Trees.”

“Nothing else?”

“A path.”

“It ends here?”

“Yes, I think so, but I’m not sure.”

“How do you know that we’re close to the S-train?”

“I could see it from the car when we turned into the forest, and when he dragged me in here, I could clearly hear the train. The tracks are not far away.”

“Where did you sit in the car?”

“Beside him, but I didn’t dare do anything except look. He had his prod and… well, you know.”

“How many times has he given you shocks?”

“Once when he caught me, it was in my uncle’s garden, and then twice down here one after the other, because I was crying and using ugly… shouted at him, called him names and such. No, three times down here. He made me scream after I sang for you.”

“Tell me, were there people on the path?”

“No, but it was raining.”

“Do you think that was why?”

“I don’t know… no, I just don’t think very many people go this way.”

“So it won’t help to cry out for help?”

“No, I think no one can hear us.”

“Can you tell me anything else about our bunker?”

“It’s called an air raid shelter, and you can rent them for thirteen hundred kroner a month plus electricity.”

“How in the world do you know that?”

“He told me. I don’t know if it’s true.”

“Why did he say that?”

“To humiliate me, I think. When I came there were bags in here, he carried them into another room. He said the price, when he said that he had paid three years in advance, and that no one except him ever came here. But that’s not correct.”

A little light bulb came on for Berg.

“What do you mean? Has anyone else come while you’ve been here?”

“Yes, you.”

“Well, yes, but besides me?”

“No, only you.”

Berg thought for a moment and said, “If he’s rented this bunker, it’s only a matter of time before they find us. They are trawling through his entire life at the moment. Every single day he’s been alive.”

“He didn’t rent it in his own name, he bragged about that. He also said what he called himself, but I can’t remember.”

“Did you see anything else on your way in?”

“Yes, there was a red square in the grass. I don’t know what it was.”

“What do you mean?”

“The grass was red there. I don’t know why.”

“How big a square? What colour red? Tell me.”

Jeanette Hvidt told her. When she was done, Pauline Berg asked, “Tell me, what colour was his car, can you remember that?”

“Red too. The same colour, now that you mention it. Do you think he painted it?”

Berg made light of it. Her fellow prisoner was afraid enough already, there was no reason to worry her further. But this was not good. Her colleagues were searching for a white car, not a red one, a detail that could be decisive. She tried to sound optimistic.

“Okay, let me think over what we’ll do.”

“Don’t we need to smell and taste?”

“No, we’ve done enough for now.”

Pauline thought intently for a long time, trying with all her might to think of something that might prevent the death that Falkenborg had threatened her with when he came back. Then suddenly she had an idea, and the more she thought about it, the better it seemed. She pushed as far to the left and up on one side as she could because of her handcuffs, while at the same time she curled up and pressed her head down toward Jeanette Hvidt’s manacled hand. Her many hours of ballet exercises had made Pauline limber and paid off now; she sensed that the process had almost succeeded. Jeanette Hvidt asked, “What are you doing?”

“Jeanette, see whether you can stretch your fingers and feel my hair… in a moment, when I say to.”

She twisted and curled up again toward the girl’s hand. When she was in place, she said with difficulty, “Now, Jeanette.”

“I can, but why should I touch your hair?”

Pauline sat back in place. It was impossible to hold the position very long at one time.

“In a moment, when I’m down again, you will twist a tuft of my hair around your finger and hold as tight as you possibly can. And you should only take a little bit of hair. When that has happened, say so, do you follow me?”

“Yes, if that’s what you want.”

They both performed the exercise. Jeanette said, “Now I have a tuft.”

Pauline jerked her head upward with all her might. An awful pain in her scalp told her the result. Even though she was prepared, she groaned out loud.

“What happened there, did I pull your hair out? Yes, I did, I can feel it!”

“Yes, you did. That was the idea. Now you will try the same, bend over towards my hand as much as you can.”

“No, why should I do that?”

Berg explained about the girl’s grandmother and Andreas Falkenborg’s psychological profile and a few other things she made up. She concluded, “It’s our only chance. If we’ve pulled out our hair or maybe only part of it, he’ll let us be. Then we’re not interesting to him any more.”

“Do you want to pull all your hair out?”

“As much as I can.”

“Did it hurt?”

“Only a little, it was nothing.”

“I don’t believe that, you screamed.”

“That was the first time. Besides we can take it in tiny little bites, there’s enough time before he comes back.”

“But then he’ll be furious when he sees it. We’ll get the prod, both of us. We’ll get the prod lots of times. I don’t want to.”

“Would you rather be in the bag?”

Jeanette started sniffling again, but shortly after she said, “I’ll try as you say.”

Pauline heard the girl groan as she bowed forward. She herself extended her fingers upward, as far as her handcuffs allowed, but their exertions were of no use. Jeanette tried as best she could, each time in a different position according to Pauline’s instructions and encouragement, but nothing helped. At last they gave up. Jeanette was simply not limber enough.

“Jeanette, you should pull my hair out, then we’ll think of something else for you later.”

“No.”

“I’m not asking you, I’m ordering you. You have no choice.”

“I won’t do it. Do you think I’m stupid, or what? Then he’ll take me instead of you. I don’t want to die so that you can live.”

“I said that we’ll think of something else for you.”

“What is that? I want to know first.”

Pauline leaned over and bit the girl hard on the upper arm. She screamed with pain.

“Ow, that really hurt, why are you doing that? I haven’t done anything to you.”

“Just get started, and now. Without discussion.”

“I don’t want to, you crazy bitch. I hope he roasts you with his prod.”

This time Pauline bit twice, the first time as hard as she could. Jeanette howled in fear and pain.

“Do it, or should I bite a chunk out of you until you realise that this is serious?”

Jeanette was bitten four times before she gave in and obeyed orders. Tuft after tuft disappeared from Pauline Berg’s head; soon she noticed blood flowing down her cheek and then her neck. The pain was unbearable for a long time, until at last she did not think it really concerned her any longer. Jeanette cried unhappily, but obediently held tight, when she was asked to. After a long time, half crying, half sniffling she said, “I can’t get hold of any more now, will you please stop biting me?”

Pauline did not answer her. On her left side she could still feel hair against her cheek. She straightened up in the chair, after which she turned her head and alternately began to pound and grind it against the coarse bunker wall behind her. It hurt even more than before if possible, and she was soon moaning with pain. In spite of that she kept on and on and on.