The Nightmare

94

Axel Riessen doesn’t know how long he’s been standing at the window. He’d watched Robert and Beverly drive away until they were out of sight. His thoughts had gone back into the past. He forces himself to stop remembering and walks over to his music system and puts on the first side of David Bowie’s The Rise and Fall of Ziggy Stardust and the Spiders from Mars. He jacks up the volume.

Pushing through the market square…

Axel walks over to his bar and takes out one of the most expensive whiskey bottles in his collection. It’s a Macallan 1939, from the first year of the Second World War. He pours himself half a glass and then goes to the sofa and sits down. He listens to the music with his eyes closed-Bowie’s young voice and the sloppy piano playing-and he sniffs the aroma of oak barrels, heavy reservoirs and dark cellars, straw and citrus. He drinks and the strong liquor burns his lips as it fills his mouth. Guarding its precious taste, this liquor has been waiting through decades: generations, changes of government, war and peace.

Now Axel is thinking that maybe what just happened is a good thing. Maybe Beverly will finally get the help she needs. He has a sudden impulse to call his brother and tell him that he loves him, but frowns at the pathetic thought. He won’t be killing himself-he’s just going to meet what’s coming to him soon enough and try to die on his feet.

He takes the whiskey to his bedroom and stares at the unmade bed. He’s able to hear the sound of vibrations coming from his jacket, which is hanging over the back of a chair. Just then, he also hears the sound of footsteps behind him. He whirls around.

“Oh, it’s you, Beverly,” he says in surprise.

Her face is dusty and she’s holding a white dandelion ball in her hand.

“I didn’t want to talk to the police,” she says.

“Where’s Robert?”

“I hitchhiked home,” she says. “It wasn’t hard. I got a ride right away.”

“Why do you hitchhike? You might have been-”

“Don’t be mad. I really didn’t do anything wrong. But there’s something very important that I have to tell you.”

The telephone in his jacket starts to vibrate again.

“Just a moment, Beverly, I have to get this,” he says.

He searches through his jacket pockets and finds his cell phone. He answers, “Axel Riessen here.”

A voice that seems to come from far away says, “Hello?”

“Hello,” Axel says.

“This is Raphael Guidi.” The voice is deep and the English is accented. “Please excuse the noise on the line. At the moment, I’m at sea, on my way to Latvia. I’m afraid that once we get out on the Baltic, we may lose our connection altogether.”

“I can hear you,” Axel says politely while Beverly walks over to the bed and sits.

“Let me get down to business,” Raphael Guidi says. “I’m calling you because I need to know that your signature is on the export authorization. I’d already thought that the container ship would have been able to leave the harbor by now.”

Axel holds the phone close to his ear. He walks into the library but can’t hear much besides his own breathing. He thinks about the photograph with Raphael Guidi, Carl Palmcrona, Agathe al-Haji, and Pontus Salman. He remembers how Palmcrona had raised his champagne glass and was laughing so that his teeth shone.

“Are you still there?” asks Raphael Guidi on the crackling line.

“I am not going to sign the authorization form,” Axel replies shortly, and shivers run up and down his spine.

“Maybe there’s a way I can convince you to change your mind,” Raphael Guidi says. “Think whether or not there’s something I can offer you that would help-”

“You have nothing I want.”

“I believe you may be wrong about that. Whenever I sign a contract, I-”

Axel hangs up. He slides the phone back into his jacket pocket. He’s filled with discomfort, almost a premonition, and begins to walk to the hallway door leading to the staircase. As he looks through the window, he spies movement in the park: shadows among the bushes heading toward his house. Axel whirls and looks out the other window but sees nothing.

There’s a clink from the bottom floor, as if one of the small panes of glass broke in the sunshine. Axel thinks the whole thing is absurd and at the same time realizes what’s going on. His body fills with adrenaline, and he has heightened awareness of his surroundings. Heart racing, he moves as swiftly as he can without running. He heads straight toward Beverly in his bedroom. Beautiful sunlight is flooding in through the gaps in the venetian blinds and landing at Beverly’s feet. Beverly has gotten undressed and crawled back into the unmade bed. She has the volume of Dürrenmatt on her stomach.

“Axel,” she says, “I came back because I have to tell you some really good news-”

“Don’t be afraid, now.” He interrupts her. “Just do as I say. Hide underneath the bed right now. Don’t move or make a sound. Stay there for one hour.”

Beverly does what he says without question. She crawls beneath the bed.

Axel hears the tromping of feet coming up the stairs. There’s at least two of them, he thinks. Beverly’s jeans and T-shirt are on a chair. He picks them up and throws them under the bed.

His heart is pounding and his thoughts are whirling as he looks around, not knowing what to do.

He grabs his telephone from his jacket and runs out of the bedroom and into the library. He can hear the sound of feet in the hallway, also heading to the library.

His hands are shaking as he tries to punch a number into his phone. He hears the floor creak as someone rushes into the room. There’s no time to call. He tries to head over to the window so he can yell into the street for help, but someone grabs his right wrist while jamming a cool instrument against his throat. He doesn’t realize it’s a stun gun; 69,000 volts of electricity pulse through his body.

The sparking of electricity can be heard in the room, but Axel only feels heavy blows, as if someone were beating his throat with an iron pipe. He doesn’t even hear himself screaming. His brain shuts down and the world around him disappears.

The man who attacked him has already taped his mouth shut by the time Axel starts coming to. Axel finds he’s lying on the floor and his body is jerking in spasms. His arms and legs are flailing. A burning bite on his throat hits him with pain. He has no chance to defend himself.

The men brusquely move Axel’s arms and legs so that they can wrap him in white plastic. The plastic crackles softly and he believes that he’s going to suffocate. However, air is able to come through to him. The men tape up the plastic and then lift him like a rug. Axel tries to struggle, but he’s no longer in control of his own muscles. The two men carry him down the staircase, out through the front door, and into a waiting garbage truck.