“No, we’ve done enough for now.”
Pauline thought intently for a long time, trying with all her might to think of something that might prevent the death that Falkenborg had threatened her with when he came back. Then suddenly she had an idea, and the more she thought about it, the better it seemed. She pushed as far to the left and up on one side as she could because of her handcuffs, while at the same time she curled up and pressed her head down toward Jeanette Hvidt’s manacled hand. Her many hours of ballet exercises had made Pauline limber and paid off now; she sensed that the process had almost succeeded. Jeanette Hvidt asked, “What are you doing?”
“Jeanette, see whether you can stretch your fingers and feel my hair . . . in a moment, when I say to.”
She twisted and curled up again toward the girl’s hand. When she was in place, she said with difficulty, “Now, Jeanette.”
“I can, but why should I touch your hair?”
Pauline sat back in place. It was impossible to hold the position very long at one time.
“In a moment, when I’m down again, you will twist a tuft of my hair around your finger and hold as tight as you possibly can. And you should only take a little bit of hair. When that has happened, say so, do you follow me?”
“Yes, if that’s what you want.”
They both performed the exercise. Jeanette said, “Now I have a tuft.”
Pauline jerked her head upward with all her might. An awful pain in her scalp told her the result. Even though she was prepared, she groaned out loud.
“What happened there, did I pull your hair out? Yes, I did, I can feel it!”
“Yes, you did. That was the idea. Now you will try the same, bend over towards my hand as much as you can.”
“No, why should I do that?”
Berg explained about the girl’s grandmother and Andreas Falkenborg’s psychological profile and a few other things she made up. She concluded, “It’s our only chance. If we’ve pulled out our hair or maybe only part of it, he’ll let us be. Then we’re not interesting to him any more.”
“Do you want to pull all your hair out?”
“As much as I can.”
“Did it hurt?”
“Only a little, it was nothing.”
“I don’t believe that, you screamed.”
“That was the first time. Besides we can take it in tiny little bites, there’s enough time before he comes back.”
“But then he’ll be furious when he sees it. We’ll get the prod, both of us. We’ll get the prod lots of times. I don’t want to.”
“Would you rather be in the bag?”
Jeanette started sniffling again, but shortly after she said, “I’ll try as you say.”
Pauline heard the girl groan as she bowed forward. She herself extended her fingers upward, as far as her handcuffs allowed, but their exertions were of no use. Jeanette tried as best she could, each time in a different position according to Pauline’s instructions and encouragement, but nothing helped. At last they gave up. Jeanette was simply not limber enough.
“Jeanette, you should pull my hair out, then we’ll think of something else for you later.”
“No.”
“I’m not asking you, I’m ordering you. You have no choice.”
“I won’t do it. Do you think I’m stupid, or what? Then he’ll take me instead of you. I don’t want to die so that you can live.”
“I said that we’ll think of something else for you.”
“What is that? I want to know first.”
Pauline leaned over and bit the girl hard on the upper arm. She screamed with pain.
“Ow, that really hurt, why are you doing that? I haven’t done anything to you.”
“Just get started, and now. Without discussion.”
“I don’t want to, you crazy bitch. I hope he roasts you with his prod.”
This time Pauline bit twice, the first time as hard as she could. Jeanette howled in fear and pain.
“Do it, or should I bite a chunk out of you until you realise that this is serious?”
Jeanette was bitten four times before she gave in and obeyed orders. Tuft after tuft disappeared from Pauline Berg’s head; soon she noticed blood flowing down her cheek and then her neck. The pain was unbearable for a long time, until at last she did not think it really concerned her any longer. Jeanette cried unhappily, but obediently held tight, when she was asked to. After a long time, half crying, half sniffling she said, “I can’t get hold of any more now, will you please stop biting me?”
Pauline did not answer her. On her left side she could still feel hair against her cheek. She straightened up in the chair, after which she turned her head and alternately began to pound and grind it against the coarse bunker wall behind her. It hurt even more than before if possible, and she was soon moaning with pain. In spite of that she kept on and on and on.
CHAPTER 53