‘Mummy?’
Jan gives a start. The metallic cry is coming from the speaker attached to his belt; it sounds like a little girl’s voice. Matilda, perhaps.
He holds his breath and listens. He doesn’t hear any more cries, just a soft scraping noise, but if the children are waking up he can’t stay down here.
His nerves are getting the better of him, but Jan ventures one last curious look at the safe room. It is almost completely empty, with a blue fitted carpet and white walls, but there is a mattress on the floor, along with a few pillows.
And on the left at the far end of the room Jan notices another wide door. It is also made of steel, and it is closed. Is it unlocked? He can’t tell.
Who is waiting on the other side? Alice Rami? Ivan Rössel, the serial killer?
‘Mummy?’ Matilda is calling out again, and Jan turns around. He quickly closes the door of the safe room and hurries back along the corridor. Right now it feels as if coming down here at all was absolutely the wrong thing to do.
Two minutes later he locks the door leading to St Patricia’s basement and goes straight to the children’s room.
Jan opens the door and listens in the darkness. All is silent once more. He tiptoes into the middle of the room and stands there for several minutes, but none of the children move. They are fast asleep. He listens to their breathing and tries to calm himself, tries to slow his own breathing to match theirs, but it is difficult.
He ought to follow their example and get some sleep. It is ten past twelve.
He will go to sleep. Otherwise the risk is that he will stay up later and later, turning the day upside down.
But he doesn’t really want to get into bed or to go to sleep. He is thinking.
It’s a mind game, which is exactly how that business with William in the forest started. Jan is thinking about how he can get into St Psycho’s, without anyone seeing him and without the children being affected.
17
The hour is late and as sluggish as treacle in Bill’s Bar, but his recent shift pattern at the pre-school has turned Jan into a night owl. On his mornings off he has slept until ten, then in the evenings stayed up until well after midnight. A new lifestyle for him, but in spite of the fact that he hasn’t touched a drop of alcohol, he is always tired.
The Bohemos have just finished playing after a whole hour of jamming, and Jan’s glass of alcohol-free beer is almost empty. At the next table two young men are energetically discussing self-defence.
‘What about a knife, then?’ one of them says.
‘A knife is a whole different ball game,’ says the other. ‘You can’t defend yourself if he’s got a knife.’
‘No, I know that, but...’
‘I mean, if you come at him with your fists he’ll just slash them to bits.’
The first man laughs. ‘In that case I’d better make sure I’ve got a sword!’
Jan doesn’t attempt to join in the conversation, he just finishes his beer. There is no sign of anyone he knows in here tonight; no Lilian or Hanna. No one. He has no friends, and he is ready to go home alone. And sleep. Alone.
Suddenly a shadow falls over his table. ‘Hi.’
Jan looks up. A man about his own age has stopped opposite him. A total stranger with black eyebrows and a blond ponytail.
No, come to think of it, Jan recognizes him — he’s one of the Bohemos. The lead singer. He’s taken off the leather jacket he always wears on stage, and is now dressed in a white cotton sweater with a towel looped around his neck. After a long evening under the spotlights both are drenched in sweat.
‘How’s things?’ he says.
Jan doesn’t quite know what to say, but opens his mouth anyway. ‘Fine.’
The singer sits down at the table. His voice is slightly hoarse after the gig, but it is warm and friendly. He wipes his forehead with one end of the towel. ‘We don’t know each other,’ he says. ‘I know that... but it’s cool.’
‘Absolutely,’ Jan answers uncertainly.
‘But I’ve seen you,’ the singer goes on. ‘Have you seen me?’
‘No... what exactly do you mean?’
‘I’ve seen you through the fence, when I’m doing my other job. You’ve started cycling to the pre-school now, haven’t you?’
Jan puts down his glass; he is slowly beginning to understand, and automatically lowers his voice. ‘So you work at St... at the hospital?’
The man nods. ‘Night security.’
‘Sorry?’
‘I work nights in the security department.’
Jan feels a shudder down his spine, and his pulse begins to race. He thinks about the underground corridor and the safe room, and suspects that he has been filmed down there. Filmed, or observed. He is waiting for a posse of guards to rush out and hurl him to the ground, grab hold of his arms, search him, interrogate him...
But the singer from the Bohemos is still sitting there smiling, apparently unconcerned. ‘I know your name is Jan,’ he says. ‘Jan Hauger.’
Jan nods. ‘And what’s your name?’
‘Rettig... Lars Rettig.’
‘Right. A bit of a coincidence, meeting up like this.’
Rettig shakes his head. ‘I know who you are. I wanted to meet you.’
‘Why?’
‘Because we need help.’
‘With what?’
‘To help those who are lost.’
‘Lost?’
‘The patients in St Psycho’s... Would you like to help them feel better?’
Jan doesn’t say anything. He shouldn’t really be sitting here talking to a hospital security guard about their place of work — what happened to the confidentiality agreement? But he has begun to relax. Lars Rettig doesn’t seem to be after him.
‘Maybe,’ Jan says. ‘But what’s it all about?’
Rettig doesn’t say anything for a few seconds, as if he were planning a little speech. But then he looks around, leans forward and lowers his voice. ‘It’s about all the things we’re not allowed to do. We’re sick and tired of it.’
‘Who’s we?’
But Rettig gets to his feet without answering the question. ‘We can talk more another time. I’ll be in touch.’ He nods encouragingly, and adds, ‘You’ll help us, Jan, I just know it. I can see it in your eyes.’
‘What can you see?’
Rettig shoots him another smile. ‘That you are ready to protect the weak.’
18
All the children are walking around clutching animals. It is cuddly-toy day at the Dell, and those who don’t have a toy of their own are allowed to borrow one out of the basket. That includes the staff. So there are teddy bears and tigers and giraffes with wobbly legs in every room. Mira is carrying around a red and white striped snake, and Josefine has a pink elk.
Guardian animals, Jan thinks.
He has chosen a golden-yellow lynx. He found it in the basket, and when everyone else had taken what they wanted, he picked it up. It’s quite a shabby lynx, but at least it doesn’t smell.
‘What’s its name?’ asks Matilda.
‘This is... Lofty the Lynx, and he comes from the forest... a forest far, far away from here.’
‘So why isn’t he there any more?’ Matilda wants to know.
‘Because... he likes the children here at the Dell,’ says Jan. ‘He wants to see where you live... He wants to play with you.’
Leo is holding on to a one-eyed cat; he is clutching it so tightly that its body has become elongated and dented.
‘What’s the name of your animal, Leo?’
‘Freddie.’
‘And what kind of animal is it?’
‘Don’t know... but look!’ He holds out his small clenched fist, and opens it.