“I mean that as soon as you have ten seconds of respite you are a hundred miles away. Don’t try to talk your way out of this. Just tell me what’s happened.”
It was more her hand on his shoulder than her words that made him give way. He opened his desk drawer and handed her the envelope from the morning. Then he got up and went up to the window with his back to her. After a while he heard her sit down in his chair, then there was silence for an eternity, until her arm was suddenly around him.
She said quietly but clearly, “What have you done about this?”
Simonsen didn’t answer. His words died in his mouth, as he became acutely aware of a sweet-and-sour taste in his mouth. It came without warning and reminded him of the sour hard candy from his childhood, the kind that you could buy from the shop woman on the main street for five ?re apiece, or was it two? He couldn’t quite remember the price, only that strong, clear taste of lemon and sugar that filled the entire mouth and lingered long after the candy was gone. Like now.
The taste memory frightened him but the images that followed were worse. For a short moment he saw Anna Mia hanging from the end of a long rope. Her arms and legs twitching uncontrollably in death throes and her eyes on him, pleading in vain. The vision lasted no more than a second, then hatred took over and he nodded in time to the devilish impulses that crowded into his brain in order to be tasted one by one. A smashed knee cap or a couple of broken thumbs or, even better—a sharp kick to the back of the head while his victim lay on his stomach and had to howl into the curb. That’s how it should be. No one was going to threaten his daughter.… He made a fist and hit it against the flat of the other hand. Once, twice, many times in small movements so as not to shake off the Countess’s arm.
She repeated her question and brought him back to reality: “Simon, what have you done about this?”
“Anna Mia is with her mother in Bornholm. Don’t you have any licorice? You usually have those Gojler. Perhaps you could give me some. Or water.”
“How long will she be there?”
“Who?”
“How long will Anna Mia be in Bornholm?”
“Until Friday, I think.”
“Have you talked to her?”
“No.”
“Or with anyone else?”
“Only with you.”
They stood there awhile longer until Simonsen’s phone rang and he reluctantly broke away. The Countess sat down across from him and listened approvingly as he delayed his meeting by fifteen minutes, without apology or excuses.
He pointed to the envelope she was holding and asked, “What would you do?”
She answered casually, as if the question were not of great significance; “Only the regular precautions, Simon.”
“I can do those myself.”
“No, I’ll do it. But there’s nothing to be nervous about. It’s clear the letter was only sent to unnerve you.”
“Yes, isn’t it? I have also received all kinds of threats.”
“Of course. You shouldn’t put any stock in those.”
“I think it’s because I took Pauline with me to his interrogation. That is, Per Clausen’s, you know, in relation to his daughter. So it may be a kind of revenge for that. Well, you know what I mean.”
“Yes, of course I do. But now you should get along to your briefing and stop worrying about this anymore.”
Simonsen nodded and the Countess hurried out of the office with the envelope. When the door closed behind her, he at once felt sleepy.
CHAPTER 61
Anita Dahlgren was no virtuoso in the kitchen so she kept to what was tried and true. An appetizer of shrimp cocktail with garlic bread, for the main course filet mignon accompanied by baked potatoes and parsley butter, served with a pitcher of béarnaise sauce as well as a mixed salad with feta and olives. Dessert was simply vanilla ice cream. Even she could not go wrong with this menu.
Simonsen praised her for at least the fifth time: “This tastes fantastic.”
Pedersen added smilingly, “Yes, well done, Planck.”
Planck ignored this comment and said seriously, “I haven’t just invited you for the pleasant company. I’ve been thinking about an idea that I want us to talk about, but first you should know that I won’t be coming in to HS anymore. I haven’t been doing so well as of late and I don’t have the strength to visit you anymore.”
The atmosphere deflated somewhat. The old man looked around briefly at everyone in the room.
“Don’t look so glum. I never planned to get a hundred years old and don’t you dare start crying. Anita, dry your eyes—I’m not going to pop off tomorrow.”
“Sorry, I’ll stop. I’ve just grown so fond of you.”
“As I have of you, my girl. Let’s clear the table together while these two gifted gentlemen ponder a little riddle. Our friend with the chainsaw—what was it we were calling him, Simon?”
Simonsen did not reply immediately. He was looking at Anita. Planck noticed this.
“Tonight Anita is part of the discussion.”
“Hmm, if you say so. We’re calling him Climber.”