– Have you… any more pictures of her?
– Sure have, he grinned.
– Who took them?
He whistled between his teeth.
– You don’t want to know that, Liss. You want to know as little as possible.
– You’re bluffing me, Zako. You’ve always been like that. Want people to believe you know everything.
He jerked slightly. – I can hear you haven’t had it for a while. Is that why you’re here?
– Could be. She acted as though she was thinking it over. – But first you’ve got to tell me about those pictures.
He sat up and dug a packet out of his jacket pocket. – A line each. And we’ll make things good again.
She forced a smile. A line and a fuck. How simple the world could be. She took off her jacket and pullover. Let the skirt drop, stood there in black tights and a thin blouse, knew he liked to see her like that.
– You’re as stubborn as a goat, he growled.
– Didn’t know you had anything against goats.
Now he laughed.
– Who took that picture? she tried again.
– Someone I know. He sprinkled the white power on to the glass table. – Someone who owed me a favour.
– Does he live in Oslo?
He made three lines with a Visa card. – Nope.
A word he usually used when he was lying.
– Why do you send people to Oslo to take pictures of my sister?
He glanced up at her. – Is this an interrogation?
– I don’t believe you, Mr Bluff.
He took a note from his cardholder, rolled it into a cylinder. – It’s up to you what you believe.
– Give me some proof that you got someone to take those pictures and I’ll never doubt you again.
He looked at her for a long time. She could have screamed it out now, that Mailin had gone missing, that he had to tell her what he knew, otherwise she’d report him. Instead she closed her eyes, shook her head, acting exasperated.
– You always have these big plans, Zako. Why should I believe you’ll ever amount to anything?
He stood up suddenly, took out his phone. Punched a key and held it up for her.
– The pictures were sent to me from Oslo. Understand? I mean what I say.
Liss turned towards the window, bit her lip. I know him well, she told herself again. He could go to great lengths to make her feel insecure. But abduct Mailin?… What did she actually know about him? Did she in fact understand anything of what went on around her? Had she ever understood anything of this world she was living in? This picture: go out into the forest, it’s night, lie down in the snow, look up at the sky between the tops of the fir trees, glide into the grey-black, give up and sleep for ever.
– Why did you do it? she asked without turning round.
She heard Zako put his beer bottle down on the glass table. – You need me, Liss, he said, almost friendly. – Fuck, think what we could do together, the two of us.
He snorted. Twice.
– The third one is yours.
She sat down beside him. Picked up the note and breathed in, saw how the last grains got sucked in, felt the burning high up in her nostrils. Clear your thoughts, she told herself. Stay calm a little longer.
Zako took hold of her hand and pushed it down towards his flies. She could feel the movement beneath the smooth material of the trousers. Like pastry swelling, she thought.
– I need to go to the toilet.
– Be quick, he growled. – And bring me an Amstel from the fridge.
She dried herself and flushed, let the cold tap run, put both hands there and held them under. – Liss, she murmured to herself. It sounded sad. Same sound as in missing. Occasionally the kids at school would call after her: Liss, Liss, piss, piss.
She opened the cupboard above the basin. In an envelope she found dozens of small light blue pills. She tore off a sheet of toilet paper, wrapped six of them inside, picked up the tumbler with the toothbrush and toothpaste in and pressed the base of it against the pills, ground them into a fine powder against the basin, packed it inside the paper. In the kitchen she took a beer and opened it. Emptied the powder into it, cleaned off the grains that clung to the neck of the bottle. Shook it carefully.
– What’s keeping you?
She slipped back into the living room, put the bottle down on the table in front of him.
– This game is shit. He scowled at the screen.
– Feel like one too, she said and fetched another Amstel from the kitchen, sat down close to him. He opened his flies and showed her what he had to offer.
– Cheers, she said, and pressed the ice-cold bottle against the strutting penis.
– Think doing that’ll make it collapse, he grinned as he picked up his own bottle and half emptied it in one swig. Within a few minutes his head began to droop. He pulled at the top of her tights, tried to get them down past her thighs.
– Let me help you, she said and slowly peeled them off. Then she unbuttoned her blouse. Stood in front of him wearing nothing but her G-string. He lifted his arm to take it off.
– What’s going on? he mumbled, and had to give up, sank back down into the sofa, eyes closed.
She picked up his phone, unlocked it, navigated to the photos of Mailin. In the first one she was on her way out of a gate. There was someone with her, a guy she presumed was Viljam. He was tall and well built, fair haired and with slightly slanted eyes. Then a series of eleven other pictures, including the one Zako had shown her at the Café Alto. The same fair-haired guy was in a couple of these two. The photos had been sent from a number that began with 0047. Funny that Zako didn’t delete the message, she thought. If he really had put someone on Mailin’s trail, he probably wouldn’t leave their number on his phone. Zako was a shit, but he wasn’t an idiot. She noted the number down on a newspaper lying on the table, ripped off the strip, put it in her jacket pocket, pulled it out again, wrote down the date the message was sent. Quickly searched the drawers in his desk. In the bottom one she found what she was looking for: the photo of Mailin. She stuffed this into her jacket pocket too, didn’t find any more that had been printed out.
She pulled her clothes on as fast as she could. Zako was lying with his head against the arm of the sofa. She grabbed him under the arms and pulled him into a position that looked a bit safer. She took the almost empty bottle out to the kitchen, poured away the remains and rinsed it thoroughly. No need for him to wake up and find out what had happened. She rinsed her own out too and then dried it. Why? she asked herself without bothering to look for an answer.
Zako was still slumped like a sack on the sofa, snoring. Before leaving, she lifted his head backwards, put his tackle back inside his trousers and zipped up his flies.
Back in the flat in Haarlemmerdijk. Still high. It would soon pass. She had some coke in an envelope in her bedside table. Take it now, hang on to this feeling of being invulnerable, make it last. She was alone. It was night. Silent in the street below. Mailin was missing. You must come down, Liss.
She sat down at her computer. Googled the Norwegian telephone directory and ran a search for the number she’d noted down on the strip of newspaper. Judith van Ravens was the name that came up. An address in Ekeberg Way in Oslo. It was now 2.30. She decided not to call until morning. Pulled her clothes off in two movements, dropped them to the floor and curled up in the bed.
She’s at the cabin. Mailin is there too. They walk down to the water. It’s summer; they’ve both got bathing towels with them. Liss runs up on to the rock she usually dives off. The water’s very deep there. As she’s about to dive in, she notices the water is covered in ice.
She woke up cold. A grey, muted light crept in through the window facing the back yard. She picked up her phone. Had slept for twelve hours. Sat upright with a jerk. Thirsty. Staggered out to the bathroom, put her mouth under the tap, took a long drink. Sank down on to the toilet, let it all run out again. Sat there looking at her face in the mirror. – Mailin, she murmured. I’ll look after you, Liss.