Planning. The key is in the planning. He who plans well reaps the rewards.
Had not his entire life proved to him that he reaped great rewards if he planned thoroughly and well in advance?
His careful planning for his education and for his career had superbly rewarded him. Only when he got careless did he suffer the consequences as had happened with his wife. Therefore she must die not anytime soon but rather a year or so from now. And it must look like an accident
How can you torture and kill someone while making it look like an accident?
He could not afford to attract attention from the police. No sir.
His brain started working on all the calculations and permutations.
Then it hit him.
As a child he had read and heard about Jacob’s ladder from the Old Testament Book of Genesis. That’s it.
He strolled to the locker room and got his Nokia cell phone out of his jacket. He had the latest smartphone from the giant Finnish telecom company. The phone could surf the web and find anything on the Internet.
He ran the search for “Jacob’s ladder” on Google. His eyes widened as he read the NASB translation of Genesis 28:10–17 which tells of:
Jacob traveling and sleeping outdoors at night with a rock for a pillow. He dreams “and behold, a ladder was set on the earth with its top reaching to heaven; and behold, the angels of God were ascending and descending on it.”
Then God tells Jacob that he will be rewarded with land and children and that “Behold, I am with you and will keep you wherever you go, and will bring you back to this land; for I will not leave you until I have done what I have promised you.”
His eyes welled up with tears especially when he read further on that Jacob wakes up from the dream and says:
“Surely the LORD is in this place, and I did not know it.”
His hands shake when he reads the last verse:
“He was afraid and said, ‘How awesome is this place! This is none other than the house of God, and this is the gate of heaven.’”
If only he could see the gate of heaven. If only he could get to the gate of heaven. But he could not because it was far too late for that. The dirty deeds were done and thanks to all of her deceptions she had stolen that opportunity from him forever. He would never be blessed like Jacob. No she had taken that from him and to make matters worse she was without a doubt surely going to expose him with his little secret about the molestations. So he simply had to kill her. She had blocked him from ever seeing and reaching the gate of heaven.
Did not the Old Testament law of “an eye for an eye” call for her death?
No amount of forgiveness would solve his problem.
Only her death would make things right and even and just.
The minutes slipped away while he was lost in thought. He wept silently and turned away so that no one could see him in the locker room.
Ja. I could be like Jacob and see the gate of heaven. . except for her curse.
Right there before his very eyes was his life story. He turned off his phone. He looked forward to a future of planning every day and every minute on how to punish her as severely as she deserved and then how to get rid of her once and for all so that he could at least finish his life on earth in peace without her.
Scream. . that’s what I want to do. Can I scream?
His mind pulled images from old memories of his childhood and he remembered taking field trips during his high school years to the many excellent art museums in Oslo. One image in pArcticular had stuck to his mind and the image terrified him for the deep truth contained in the image and he could not get the image or painting out of his mind.
The Scream by Edvard Munch.
How well he remembered the details of the swirling reddish orange sky and swirling purple blue waters and the skeletal and distorted agonizing face of the lonely and sick and terrorized person that he saw at the Munch-museet or Munch Museum.
He made his mind up at the gym to make sure that his scream would be the last thing that she ever heard while he killed her.
Ja.
His face and his scream would provide just the perfect ending for her. From the long window in the locker room he saw dozens of Sankthans bonfires blazing away. In the pagan days the bonfires supposedly kept away witches or evil spirits from roaming the land during the endless daylight of midsummer. He remembered how his mother like many other old-fashioned and superstitious Norwegians used to throw straw dummies that looked like witches into the bonfires.
Should I burn her body in a Midsummer bonfire? Maybe even while she is still alive?
He had an evil witch to kill.
Ja.
The next June 23rd a year from today would be the day of her death. That would give him more than enough time to plan and execute. And execute he would.
One hour before midnight. The Otterstads and their guests sit by the beach in groups listening to jokes and music and playing games and it all seems so festive and normal and happy to Sohlberg and yet the unnatural daylight fills him with dread. The pale midnattsol hangs in the sky like an unwelcome guest of ill omen.
“Are you okay?”
Fru Sohlberg has noticed his depression. He must be careful. “I’m just not used to it anymore I guess.”
“I know. It’s so odd to be back and see sun and daylight in the middle of the night.”
“Maybe I should’ve taken a nap like you suggested. I feel a little lightheaded.”
Nora Otterstad immediately intervenes and takes both Sohlbergs to the main house. She lodges them in a small study near the main living room so that Sohlberg can take a nap on a very comfortable sofa while Fru Sohlberg watches over him.
A restless sleep brings little relief to Sohlberg. He dreams that time itself is frozen and that the future is forever postponed. In other words he only has the past and the present while he’s trapped in the present. He is literally a man without a future.
At 11:45 PM Fru Sohlberg wakes him up and says:
“The Otterstads are going to take us home as soon as they light the Sankthans bal. . the Midsummer’s Eve bonfire by the beach. Okay?”
“No. Let’s stay. I’m okay.”
“No you’re not on the longest day of the year. . a day with no night. Imagine what that does to a man in your condition.”
“What condition?”
“You know. . you know what I mean. . ”
“What do you mean by my condition?. . Are you saying I’m depressed. . in clinical depression?”
“Oh please. . don’t you see?. . We never recovered from jet-lag since arriving in Denmark. It’s too much. You need to rest. And you’ve had so many memories to deal with after coming back to your parents’ home and. . Look. . I don’t feel too good myself. We’re just not used to these day-filled nights.”
The Sohlbergs apologize and say their goodbyes to their hosts and everyone else about a half hour after midnight. Leif Otterstad pilots them quickly back home through the placid waters.
Sohlberg turns one last time to watch the giant 30-foot bonfire on the Otterstad property. Bonfires dot all of the beaches around the Oslofjord and the fires lend a wild and savage air reminiscent of the pagan Viking era and no one can escape the primal and visceral feeling that something imminent and far bigger than themselves is unfolding.