Shadow of Fog Island Page 23

  ‘I tripped on the rocks before my ice bath.’

  ‘What’s an ice bath?’

  ‘It’s a new punishment for those of us who didn’t behave while Franz was away. We go to the cliffs and take a dip every day. Under guard.’

  ‘Jesus, Bosse. That’s incredibly dangerous. The water is cold as hell!’

  ‘Franz says even old folks can manage wintertime dips.’

  ‘Yeah, but they get to have saunas afterwards, and they’re allowed to sleep at night. He’s gone completely off the rails, can’t you see?’

  ‘Yes, I suppose that’s true.’

  Bosse was practically paralysed for his first few days in Simon’s cottage. This bundle of energy, a man who had dashed around ViaTerra like a fanatic saviour, who had worked hardest of all, the most devoted member, sat around on Simon’s sofa, staring at nothing like a gaping fish. But Simon understood. There was nothing for Bosse to hold onto. He had no life beyond the walls. Simon was familiar with Bosse’s background – his parents had died in a car crash when he was four, and after that he’d been shuffled around to various foster homes. He’d become a bit of a thug in his teens. Oswald had plucked him up at a lecture. Later he’d said he fell for Bosse’s devoted gaze.

  ViaTerra had been like a salvation for Bosse. He was almost like a personification of the cult, with his ambition and devotion to Oswald. He’d become Oswald’s right-hand man. But that was before Oswald started to become annoyed by him, a fate that befell everyone sooner or later. Simon knew Bosse had had to tolerate innumerable cruel nicknames and dressing-downs, and that Oswald had struck him several times.

  Simon suspected that it’s always possible to free people, but that you must free them towards something, not just out into empty space – and for Bosse, there was no world beyond those walls.

  Bosse, like Anna, spent almost all his time sleeping at first, and he ate unusually greedily. On the third day, he started talking nonstop. He said basically the same things Anna had, but he also told Simon what had happened when Oswald returned. Madeleine had been the first target, and she was followed by Bosse. The worst thing was probably how Oswald had forced them to sit still on chairs for twenty-four hours while someone watched over them and poured water on them if they dozed off. They were expected to spend the time reflecting upon the consequences of their irresponsibility.

  It would have been so easy to tell Bosse that it was high time he realized that what he was describing, what had happened to him, was absolutely outrageous. But Simon knew Bosse still had doubts, and needed to come to this realization himself. It couldn’t be forced upon him.

  He tried to get Bosse to walk around the pension’s property each day, to get some fresh air. But not even that was easy, because the search for him was in full effect. It lasted not just a few days, as for Anna, but a whole week: motorcycles driving back and forth on the road. Cries and shouts from the forest, where search parties combed in lines. Guards showing up at the pension again and again.

  Inga patiently explained that she certainly wasn’t harbouring any runaways. But no one came to Simon’s cottage, a fact that baffled him.

  Bosse’s ability to read and write was substandard, so Simon didn’t give him any books. Instead he let him use the computer and go online. On the fifth day, Bosse looked surprisingly alert when he woke up.

  ‘Listen, it’s actually insane that I tolerated all that crap. Where should I go? If they find me, it’ll be even worse than it was for Sofia.’

  ‘Speaking of which, tell me about the Sofia Bauman project.’

  Bosse was startled.

  ‘How did you know about that?’

  ‘Doesn’t matter. Just tell me.’

  ‘It was this project where the goal was to shut Sofia up. Harass her so she would never dare to attack Franz again.’

  ‘Did you work on it?’

  ‘Yeah, at first. It was Benny, Sten, and me. But Franz flew off the handle when he found out some of the things we did. I mean, we did go a little overboard when we painted “slut” on her door and stuff like that. That wasn’t really Franz’s style. Callini came to ViaTerra and chewed us out royally, and with that voice… well, it wasn’t pretty. So she sent Benny and Sten to Penance. Franz swore he would deal with me once he was free. And he did, of course, as you know.’

  ‘But what else did you do?’

  ‘Stuff online, mostly. From the guards’ booth. There was a hacker who worked with us. And then there was that dildo we sent to her neighbour, some old lady.’

  ‘Jesus Christ, Bosse, that’s disgusting! What about the dog?’

  ‘What? Which dog? The one Benny got?’

  Simon let out a sigh of relief.

  ‘No, a different dog. Never mind, it’s not important. Listen, I think you should report this to the police.’

  Bosse went pale.

  ‘Please, no, I could never do that. It would be like turning myself in, I was in so deep. And it doesn’t even matter now that Sofia’s in the US, does it?’

  ‘What? Does Oswald know she’s there?’

  ‘Yeah, Madde told him one day at assembly. She said Sofia ran off with her tail between her legs. It sounded like a victory, sort of. For ViaTerra, I mean.’

  ‘But she hasn’t heard from them at all since she moved.’

  ‘No, but Franz hasn’t forgotten her. You can be sure of that.’

  ‘Bosse, why is he so fixated on Sofia?’

  ‘Isn’t it obvious? The way she messed up his life.’

  ‘Yes, but it’s more than that. I can just feel it.’

  Bosse thought for a moment.

  ‘Do you remember the time Sofia and Benjamin tried to run away?’

  Simon did. Oswald had placed cameras in Sofia and Benjamin’s room, and had discovered them discussing their escape plans.

  ‘After that, Franz had a meeting with me. He said Sofia had to be put under extra surveillance, that she was never allowed to leave the property, and that she was an important part of his future plans. That’s all I know.’

  ‘Sure, but why would he completely drop it, just because she moved out of the country?’

  ‘I don’t know, Simon. Maybe he got tired of the cat-and-mouse game. He gets tired of everyone and everything eventually.’

  Simon thought about Sofia, who had finally contacted him a few days ago. She hadn’t responded to his emails, and when she finally called he understood why. She’d gotten it on with that Mattias and, for some strange reason, she was ashamed to tell Simon. It was temporary, she said. She would work everything out with Benjamin when she got home. ‘It’s not like I’m your dad,’ Simon had replied. ‘You can do whatever you want.’ And yet he found he was annoyed with her.

  The knowledge that Oswald was aware of Sofia’s whereabouts made him paranoid. He decided to change the subject with Bosse.

  ‘We have to talk about where you’re going to go, Bosse.’

  ‘I’ll do anything. As long as they don’t find me. Where can I hide? It feels like I’m taking advantage of you, but I don’t have any money. Where do I start? I think I need to find a job.’

  Simon observed Bosse as he sat on the sofa. The colour had started to return to his face, and there was a new glint of life in his eyes. Yes, Bosse was a good worker. No doubt about that. Simon gazed out the window, where the pension’s property extended to the forest. Everything was turning green. The white points of the greenhouses pierced the pale spring sky. Simon turned back to Bosse; an idea had come to him although he hadn’t been consciously trying to come up with one.

  Suddenly he rose from the sofa and went to the telephone to dial his old home number, on the farm. His mother picked up and was so happy to hear Simon’s voice that she started crying. Yes, they sure could use an extra set of hands now that spring was here, as long as this fellow could work hard. Didn’t Simon want to come home too?

  ‘No, I can’t come,’ said Simon. ‘But you have to promise me something. Not a single attempt to save him – no praying,
no laying on of hands, no conversations about God’s Way.’

  So it was decided – Bosse would travel to Småland and spend some time working on Simon’s parents’ farm.

  The next day, Simon gathered up some clothes and put them in Bosse’s backpack. He went to the village that morning to buy a coat, toothpaste, and shampoo, and he got some cash from the ATM. Enough for Bosse to live on until he got his first pay cheque.

  They sat on the sofa, staring at each other. Waiting until it was time to head to the ferry. Edwin Björk had promised to hide Bosse on the trip over. A melancholic cloud hung between them – Simon already missed Bosse; he wanted so badly for things to go well for him. As they sat there, there was a knock on the door. It wasn’t Inga; the knocks were too firm and impatient.

  Those nutjobs figured out Bosse was here, Simon thought. Took them long enough. He glanced at the clock. Fifteen minutes until they had to leave, plenty of time to get rid of them.

  ‘Go hide in the bathroom,’ he told Bosse. ‘I’m sure it’s Benny or Sten. I’ll send them away as fast as I can.’

  When Simon opened the door, he thought he was seeing things and was so startled he slammed the door. When he opened it again, he was sure he must have been mistaken, that he would find Benny or Sten standing there.

  But when the door swung open, it was still Franz Oswald.

  41

  They saw each other a few times a week. He never slept over; he vanished during the night and each time she woke up she was wrapped in a haze of heavy, aching sexual craving. Benjamin was like an excited puppy in bed, tongue and paws everywhere. Mattias was calculating and methodical. Only at the very last moment did he lose control, and the tension in the lead-up to this drove her crazy. He made her suffer and he made her ecstatic. He undressed her and redressed her, bound her and freed her; he was never rough but always dominant.

  Although they did other stuff together it was mostly a sexual relationship, but that just made it even better. She began to need him like a drug. And then there was the feeling of having a secret. Delicious, hot shame.

  When he suggested they travel back to Sweden together, she was surprised at first.

  ‘That way it won’t be as lonely on the plane, and also I’m going to miss you so fucking much, just so you know.’

  ‘But you know I have to talk to Benjamin, figure everything out before…’

  ‘Oh yeah, that old drip.’

  But in the end she decided to fly back with Mattias. Her visa would expire soon, and she did miss home. She wrote to everyone to let them know when she would arrive. She’d sublet her apartment in Lund but decided to let the guy renting it stay to the end of the month; she could live with her parents in the meantime.

  One week before their flight home, Mattias called.

  ‘Listen, I found tickets for half the price, but for a day earlier. Can you leave then?’

  Her mind went straight to her dwindling bank account.

  ‘I can, but I’d have to let everyone at home know.’

  ‘Don’t. I want you to myself for a whole day in Gothenburg. In my apartment.’

  ‘I can’t, you know I have to…’

  ‘Talk to Benjamin, blah, blah, blah… Look, just one last day. At my place. Then you can take the train home and it will be up to you if you want to see me again.’

  She felt a thrill of excitement when he mentioned that apartment. It sounded like he was planning something.

  ‘I’ll pay for your ticket and deal with rebooking. What do you say?’

  ‘Okay, fine.’

  ‘But don’t tell anyone we’re coming early. I want you to myself for a whole day. Promise me.’

  ‘We’ll be totally jet-lagged.’

  ‘I like you when you’re all sleepy and submissive.’

  It seemed too good to be true. She would get to sleep with him one last time and come home with an extra ten thousand kronor in hand. She decided to take a train to Lund the night after they got back. To surprise her parents. There was no way she could visit Benjamin in Gothenburg, given the situation.

  On the last night, she sat on the balcony to think for a long time. She’d sold all her furniture and donated everything else to a thrift store. All that was left in the apartment was the bed, which the buyer would pick up the next morning, and her two big suitcases.

  The spring sky deepened into a blood-red sunset. The air stood still. She thought about Melissa, who had cried when she said goodbye. Her colleagues at the library. The freedom she’d felt in Palo Alto. The lovely light and the endless green. But in the end, she knew this wasn’t her real life. It struck her that she hadn’t dreamt of Oswald for weeks. In fact, she hadn’t even thought about him recently. It must mean he had given up – obviously that was the case. And with this realization, a weight she hadn’t even been aware of lifted from her chest.

  At the same time, a pang of loss hit her. The feeling was so illogical that she didn’t even try to understand it. But he was the only person she’d ever known who refused to allow himself even a modicum of self-doubt. He always had a plan and never budged a millimetre from it. Sofia herself had spent the last two years feeling like a bug that had lost its sense of direction and was flying around in circles. But now her hell was over. She would go back to Sweden and everything would be normal again.

  They flew nonstop from San Francisco to Kastrup, and from there to Landvetter outside of Gothenburg. Mattias was unusually quiet during the trip; he mostly just listened to his iPod and stared out the window, and he hardly ate a bite. For a few hours, he slept with his mouth open and his head resting against Sofia’s shoulder. There was a new sort of tension between them, not just their usual sexual attraction. He almost seemed nervous, drumming his fingers on his thigh, tapping his feet against the seat ahead of him.

  ‘What’s wrong?’ she finally asked.

  ‘Huh?’

  He took off his headphones.

  ‘I was asking what’s up with you. You seem a little tense.’

  ‘Nah, it’s nothing. I just don’t know if I’m happy to be going back to Sweden. What if I can’t let you go?’

  ‘Oh, chill out. It’s not like we’re going to live that far away from each other.’

  She couldn’t sleep a wink on the plane. Each time she tried, she got a crick in her neck and felt cold and began to sneeze in the cool, dry air.

  They took a taxi from the airport to Mattias’s apartment, which was in the city centre. As Sofia stepped inside, she felt like she had entered a gap in time, as if she was no longer in one place but hadn’t yet arrived at the next. The apartment was so breath-taking as to be surreal. The ceilings had to be over four metres high. Everything was white or grey, and looked freshly renovated. It was luxury Scandinavian minimalism in the extreme – nothing superfluous, but it was clear that each item had cost a fortune.

  There was an antique tile stove in the living room, and it was flanked by huge bronze sculptures: a phallic symbol and a bird with outstretched wings. The few pieces of furniture included a conversation group and a stereo and TV system. On the walls hung three framed photographs that were of an erotic, almost pornographic, nature. The first depicted a squatting woman holding up her hands, which were bound with rope. Only her eyes were in focus. The next showed a man’s back, and the face of a gagged woman lying beneath him. The man’s hand was fisted in her hair. The third picture was a close-up of a woman’s face. She wore a thick, studded leather collar; her eyes were closed and her mouth was half open.

  Mattias’s voice came from behind her.

  ‘Those were taken by a renowned photographer. Dieter Rysch. Have you heard of him?’

  She still wasn’t quite present. The sight of the photographs had taken her breath away. It dawned on her that Mattias’s predilection for domination was a lifestyle, not just an adventure they’d had together.

  ‘No, never,’ she responded, swallowing. All of a sudden she felt uncomfortable with him.

  He came over and placed his ha
nds on her shoulders. He guided her to the bedroom, which hardly contained more than an enormous bronze bed. Infinite reflections of her bounced back from the walls and ceiling, which were covered entirely by mirrors.

  He stole up behind her, pressed himself to her back, and put his hands on her breasts.

  ‘Hope you like our little place here.’

  ‘Our? Do you live here with someone?’

  ‘No, a good friend owns this apartment. He’s almost never here, he’s always travelling on business. So we share, sort of.’

  ‘The rent must be sky-high.’

  ‘I don’t pay any rent. I help him out with some stuff instead – I mean, we’re really good buddies.’

  ‘Damn, you’ve got a pretty sweet deal here. Who’s the guy? Anyone famous?’

  ‘No, just a businessman. A successful one.’

  ‘But what do the two of you do here?’

  ‘Isn’t it obvious? Bring girls here. Have fun. You’re not jealous, are you?’

  ‘Hardly. Just wanted to make sure I hadn’t ended up in a brothel.’

  He pinched her cheek.

  ‘You’re not being fair. You have to admit that this place is classy.’

  She mumbled something, unsure whether she was shocked or impressed. And too tired to decide.

  ‘Listen, can I go to bed now? I’m so fucking tired.’

  ‘Of course, but first you need a bath, to wash off all the travel.’

  ‘Why?’

  ‘Come on, I’ll show you.’

  He led her to the bathroom, which was past the bedroom. Everything here was done in marble, and the bathtub was so high that you had to go up two steps to get in. Above the tub was a massive skylight. He ran a bath as she took off her clothes, which she placed in a neat pile on a bench just inside the door. As she sank into the water, she thought she would doze off in no time, but then she glanced up and caught sight of the sky through the window. You could see the stars so clearly. It was like taking a bath in space. She stared up at the heavens as the warmth of the bathwater spread through her body.

  Her pleasure was interrupted by Mattias, who swore loudly and repeatedly out in the bedroom. He came to the door.