“Then what is she doing in the basement?”
“She is waiting for you to make up your mind. To decide.”
This confused her, and Westin smiled inwardly. He had spent many years in Cleveland poring over books about the art of warfare. That work was paying off now. Suddenly she was the one on the defensive.
“I don’t understand what you mean. I’m scared.”
Anna started to sob, her body shook. He felt a lump in his throat, remembering how he had comforted her as a child when she cried. But he forced the feeling away and asked her to stop.
“What are you scared of?”
“Of you.”
“You know I love you. I love Zeba. I have come to join the earthly and the divine in transcendent love.”
“I don’t understand you when you talk like that!”
Before he had a chance to say anything else, there was a new cry for help from the basement and Anna flew from her chair.
“I’m coming!” she cried, but he grabbed her before she could leave the verandah. She struggled but he was too strong for her. When she continued to struggle, he hit her with an open hand. Once, then again, and finally a third time. She fell to the floor after the third blow, her nose bleeding. Langaas appeared at the French windows, and Westin motioned for him to go down into the basement. Langaas understood and left. Westin pulled Anna up onto a chair and felt her forehead with his fingertips. Her pulse was racing. His own was only somewhat accelerated. He sat down across from her and waited. Soon he would break her will. These were the last set of defenses. He had surrounded her and was attacking from all sides. He waited.
“I didn’t want to do that,” he said after a while. “I only do what is necessary. We are about to embark on a war against emptiness, soullessness. It is a war in which it is not always possible to be gentle, nor merciful. I am joined by people who are prepared to give their lives for this cause. I myself may have to give my life.”
She didn’t say anything.
“Nothing will happen to Zeba,” he repeated. “But nothing in this life comes to us for free. Everything has a price.”
Now she looked at him with a mixture of fear and anger. The bleeding from her nose had almost stopped. He explained what it was he wanted her to do. She stared at him with wide eyes. He shifted his chair closer to hers and placed his hand over hers. She flinched, but did not pull it away.
“I will give you one hour,” he said. “No door will be locked, no guards will watch over you. Think about what I have said, and come to your own decision. I know that if you let God into your heart and mind, you will do what is right. Do not forget that I love you very much.”
He stood up, traced a cross on her brow with his finger, and left without a sound.
Langaas was waiting in the hallway.
“She settled down when she saw me. I don’t think she’ll do it again.”
They walked through the garden to an outbuilding that had been used for storing fishing equipment. They stopped outside the door.
“Has everything been prepared?”
“Everything has been prepared,” Langaas said.
He pointed to four tents that had been erected next to the shed, then pulled open the flap to one of them. Westin looked in. There were the boxes, piled one on top of the other. He nodded. Langaas pulled the tent flap shut.
“The cars?”
“The ones that will drive the greatest distance are waiting up on the road. The others have been stationed in the positions we discussed.”
Erik Westin looked down at his watch. The many, often difficult years he had spent laying the groundwork had seemed endless. Now time was suddenly going too fast. From now on, everything had to work exactly as it should.
“It’s time to start the countdown,” he said.
He glanced at the sky. Whenever he had thought forward to this moment in the past, he had always imagined that the heavens would mirror its dramatic import, but in Sandhammaren on this day, September 7, 2001, there were no clouds and almost no breeze.
“What is the temperature?” he asked.
Langaas looked at his watch, which had a built-in thermometer, as well as a pedometer and a compass.
“Eight degrees,” he said.
They walked into the shed, which still smelled pungently of tar. Those who were waiting for him sat in a semicircle on low wooden benches. Westin had planned to perform the ceremony with the white masks, but now he decided to wait. He still didn’t know if the next sacrifice would be Zeba or the policeman’s daughter. They would do the ceremony then. Now they only had time for a shorter ritual; God would not accept anyone who arrived late for their appointed task. Not to be mindful of one’s time was like denying that even time was a gift of the Lord. Those who needed to travel to their destinations would have to leave shortly. They had calculated how much time was needed for each leg of their journey, and had followed the checklists in the carefully prepared manuals. In short, they had done everything in their power, but there was always the possibility that the dark forces would prevent them from achieving their goals.
When the cars with the three groups who had to travel had left, and the others had returned to their hideouts, Westin remained in the shed. He sat motionless in the dark with the necklace in his hand — the golden sandal that was now as important to him as the cross. Did he have any regrets? That would be blasphemy. He was only an instrument, but one equipped with a free will to comprehend and then dedicate himself to the path of the chosen. He closed his eyes and breathed in the smell of tar. He had spent a summer on the island of Öland as a child visiting a relative who was a fisherman. The memories of that summer, one of the happiest of his childhood, were nestled in the scent of tar. He remembered how he snuck out in the light summer night and ran down to the boat shed in order to draw the smell more deeply into his lungs.
Westin opened his eyes. He was past the point of no return. The time had come. He left the shed and took a circuitous route to the front of the house. He looked out at the verandah from the cover of a large tree. Anna was sitting in the same chair. He tried to interpret her decision from the way she was sitting, but he was too far away.
Suddenly there was a rustling sound behind him. He flinched. It was Langaas. Westin was furious.
“Why are you sneaking around?”
“I didn’t mean to.”
Westin struck him hard in the face, right below the eye. Langaas accepted the blow and lowered his head. Then Westin stroked his head lightly and they walked over to the house. He made his way soundlessly to the verandah until he was right behind her. She only noticed his presence when he bent over and she felt his breath on the nape of her neck. He sat down across from her, pulling her chair closer until their knees touched.
“Have you made your decision?”
“I will do as you ask.”
He had expected that she would say this, but it still came as a relief.
He walked over to a shoulder bag that lay next to the wall and pulled out a small, thin, and extremely sharp knife. He gently lowered it into her hands, as if it were a kitten.
“The moment when she reveals that she knows things she shouldn’t, I want you to stab her — not once, but three or four times. Strike her in the chest and force the blade up before you pull it out. Then call Langaas and stay out of sight until we get you. You have six hours to do this, no more. You know I trust you, and love you. Who could love you more than I do?”
She was about to say something, but stopped herself. He knew she had been thinking of Henrietta.
“God,” she said.
“I trust you, Anna,” he said. “God’s love and my love are one and the same. We are living in a time of rebirth. A new kingdom. Do you understand this?”