“You mustn’t do that, that’s wrong.”
“Then see about getting away while you have a head start. Here in Hareskoven you don’t have a chance. They already started going through the bunkers yesterday, it’s standard procedure with kidnappings so I’m sure they’ll be here soon. Tick, tock, tick, tock, Andreas—can you feel time running out?”
Jeanette also sensed the new division of power and added, “Then you’ll get a taste of your own medicine, you pig. And if you kill me, I guarantee that sooner or later my boyfriend will find you and poke your eyes out.”
“She will keep quiet.”
“You keep quiet yourself, you psychopath.”
He turned on his heel and left the room without closing the door behind him.
As soon as he was gone, Jeanette’s fear got the upper hand again.
“Oh, no. If he gets the prod, I can’t bear that.”
Berg shushed her, and both of them listened for a long time. Finally Jeanette said, “Do you think he’s gone?”
“Yes, I think so, but I couldn’t hear a car.”
They waited a while without anything happening, and again it was Jeanette who broke the silence.
“And then someone will come and find us?”
“Yes, they will.”
“You said they were already starting to go through the bunkers. That it’s standard.”
“Yes, I’m sure they are.”
“How many are there?”
“I don’t know.”
“You’re lying. It was a lie, right?”
“You were very brave, Jeanette. Your courage saved your life.”
This evasive manoeuvre of Pauline’s did not succeed. Jeanette insisted on the truth.
“Wasn’t it a lie?”
Pauline Berg answered harshly and angrily.
“Yes, it was a lie. A lie that means you are sitting here alive and not down in that hole while he shovels dirt and chunks of cement over you. Are you satisfied now?”
Falkenborg’s triumphant howl filled the room; he was standing in the open door. The mask was missing.
“I knew it, I knew you were trying to cheat, you cheater!”
He was gone again, only to return to the room soon afterwards, this time with his mask on and a pair of sturdy hearing protectors on his ears besides. In one hand he held the prod, in the other two pieces of fabric. The sight was ridiculous, but neither of the women laughed. He placed himself in front of Jeanette Hvidt and shouted, “She will open her mouth.”
The girl obeyed immediately, and he stuffed one piece of fabric in her mouth. Then it was Pauline Berg’s turn. She clenched her teeth, he raised the prod and held it a few centimetres from her neck without saying anything. Pauline opened her mouth, and the result was the same.
Falkenborg removed his hearing protectors and his mask. He set both down on the floor, and for the next hour Pauline had impotently to watch while he worked. Occasionally he left the room to get materials, tools, and whatever else he needed. A large plastic tub, two buckets of water, two sacks of concrete mix, masonry tools and a long concrete finishing trowel. From time to time he made small talk with her to mock her. Everyday things, indifferent comments, mixed with swear words and dark threats.
“In the old days you had to mix the concrete yourself. It was easy to remember anyway: one, two, three—one part cement, two parts sand, and three parts gravel or small stones—but no one bothers to do that any more. Today you buy it pre-mixed ready for use.”
Then he retrieved a small table and unfolded it by the side of the grave. Carefully he picked up his mask and set it on the table. He left and returned immediately with scissors, lipstick, a roll of duct tape and a plastic bag.
“First the concrete will have to set, then we can get started. Meanwhile you can rot in that chair, and we’ll see whether anyone is looking for you. Yes, go ahead and cry . . . cry as much as you want. You made the bed you’re lying in. You should have stayed away from me, hussy.”
CHAPTER 55
A high-pressure system, which the weather reports predicted would last for the next few days, had announced its arrival, and the sun was now fierce against the windows of the Homicide Division after the morning’s grey drizzle. Inside Konrad Simonsen, the Countess, Poul Troulsen and Ernesto Madsen were holding a meeting in Simonsen’s office. All four of them were sweating, and the three men looked tired. Only the Countess appeared relatively healthy, primarily due to a good layer of makeup. Troulsen yawned and asked Simonsen, “What are we waiting for?”
“Nothing, I’m just trying to collect my thoughts.”