The Hanging

Chapter 35

The woman in the stairwell explained with barely suppressed fury, “The door doesn’t lock. As you can see, the mechanism isn’t working. He asked me to keep an eye on his place while he was gone, as if someone would wander up to the sixth floor for a burglary. But I said yes, I did, in order to be a good neighbor and I’m glad I did. I walked up the stairs twice to take a look and make sure everything was fine but the second time I heard sounds and went in and it turned out to be the television. He had forgotten to turn off his video. Go in and see what your friend was up to, that animal.” A stern finger pointed at the door.

One of the men protested halfheartedly, “We don’t know him that well, we can’t just walk in.”

“Look at his film first and you’ll think the better of it. What about Angelina?”

A sudden gust of wind blew through the stairwell. The door behind the woman opened. The girl’s black hair fluttered in the wind. Silently, without looking right or left, she glided past the men and pushed the neighbor’s door open with her finger. Steadily, without words, she turned around and withdrew with singular dignity, taking her mother with her. The breeze ceased and the twins stared at the locked door. It said EA KOLT JESSEN. She was their cousin. Their at times very insistent and unceasingly demanding cousin, who had called and asked them to come. They entered the apartment without saying anything.

The woman was right. All their hesitation vanished when they saw the video. They sat down heavily on the sofa and waited in a mood of apprehension.

“Do you think Angelina was afraid of us? She didn’t say hello or anything.”

They were used to people being nervous at their appearance. They were both enormous and had powerful, coarse features. In addition, each of them had a droopy eyelid-something they’d had from birth-that gave them a menacing appearance. Then there was their dark biker-style leather clothing-a warm and practical choice for a professional sheep shearer on his way to work, but which was perhaps frightening to a four-year-old girl.

“I don’t know. She didn’t seem like it.”

They sat for a while in silence.

“To hell with it, I can’t stand it.”

They had set the video on Pause but the frozen image was unpleasant enough.

The one brother stood up and pulled a cloth from the sofa table, causing a vase to tumble and smash against the floor. He draped the cloth over the television screen. There were two framed posters on the wall behind them. WELCOME TO DISNEYLAND in large boisterous letters over a smiling Mickey Mouse, most likely a souvenir from a trip. The other was a reproduction of Edvard Munch’s portrait of Friedrich Nietzsche with the philosopher’s famous pronouncement GOD IS DEAD in black text over the art. The brother who was standing grabbed a chair and smashed it against one of the pictures. The glass splintered diagonally and a large piece fell to the floor while the actual poster remained intact. He cut a tear into it with the sharp edge of the glass and held up the result: half a mouse and the torn NEYLAND had no meaning, so he moved on to the next poster. His brother walked into the bedroom to relieve himself.

The owner of the apartment was not a small man and was in excellent condition but he didn’t stand a chance. The brothers were simply too powerful.

Without allowing themselves to be derailed by his wild protests, they grabbed his head and forced him in front of the screen. The cover of the video had fallen to the floor. It claimed that the film was about the siege of Leningrad-false advertising unless one counted the introduction. His clothes were removed and a firm grip on his red hair made sure that he stared at the naked children.

“What is this? Can you answer me, you disgusting pervert?”

The unfortunate man answered as best he could but was not particularly convincing. In part because he had the handicap of the merciless grip on his neck.

“It’s not my video. I borrowed it from one of my friends who’s a cop. And I’ve never seen it before. Fuck, you know me.”

His last remark was regrettable. Neither of the two men wished to be reminded of their acquaintance.

“A cop. Since when did the police start lending out child pornography?”

The distrust was massive and impossible to overcome.

“You like little kids? Then we have something in common. I do too, just not in your way.”

A shockingly hard and brutal blow struck the man in the region of his kidneys and he screamed in pain. A kick that was aimed at his groin missed its mark and hit his thigh. The next one was more precise. The neighbor who lived one floor below called the police.