“I’ll call, but you won’t. Never again.”
He turned his back to her and left before she could reply.
*
When she arrived back at the newsroom, the IT department had retrieved her deleted e-mail from Tuesday, just as she had demanded. All that remained was to go back and review, and the excitement shot her pulse up into the danger range. It quickly subsided again, however. There was no doubt that three of the men from her most recent e-mail matched the pictures in the envelope and one was also identical to the face from the first e-mail.
She had watched the Tuesday video with sound, which caused a spontaneous outburst: “Well, I have no pity for you. You got what you deserved—not that one can say that kind of thing aloud.”
The culture-and-arts editor who sat nearby looked up from his paper and asked kindly, “Why are you doing that, Anni?”
Anni locked her computer and went straight to the editor in chief, hoping that she would be lucky enough to find him available. He was not. She was effectively stopped by a secretary who watched diligently over access to her lord and master.
She nodded toward the locked door at the very back of the room and asked, “When is he free?”
“It may take a long time. It’s financial.”
“Listen here, my love, why don’t you go in there for a second and tell him that he has a meeting with me in Lokale Viggo at six o’clock, and then find the director and her new legal scam artist—”
“Senior legal counsel.”
“Whatever. Make sure that they come along as well. At the same time, arrange for a computer with speakers and an Internet connection. Oh, and some sandwiches, beer and water, of course.”
“Do you understand what you’re asking of me? What should I say this meeting is about?”
“Nothing. Now make sure that they’re there regardless of what other plans they have. I know you can do this if you want.”
“And why would I want to?”
“Look, I’m well aware that anything other than a damn good reason would have me strung up by my ears.”
The secretary peered at her seriously over her gold-rimmed glasses. She was most comfortable when things proceeded in an orderly and predictable manner, which they never did. Nonetheless, she struggled day after day to establish a bare minimum of order in her boss’s day. Anni Staal’s highly irregular suggestion fit poorly in this context.
“Not just your ears, he’ll have your whole hide, Anni.”
“I know. Just make sure they come.”
The secretary nodded halfheartedly. Then she added in an unfriendly tone, “You can get your food yourself. I’m not in the catering business. The technology is already in place. Tell me, don’t you read your Internal mail?”
Anni Staal drew back, smiling broadly. She had not for a moment thought that the secretary would take on any of the practical arrangements, but in her experience difficult requests went down better if the other party had something to refuse.
CHAPTER 34
Konrad Simonsen sat at his desk and tried to make his way through the stack of reports that had accumulated in remarkable number over the past couple of days. The task was impossible but he tried as well as he could, skimming mostly and crossing his fingers that others would have a better eye for the details. After a couple of hours of intense work his eyes started to water, which added to the difficulties of his work and also made him feel old. He adjusted his desk lamp and tried to continue for a while without his glasses. Neither helped. Then he found a stack of tissues at the back of his desk drawer and continued to read, wiping away his tears at regular intervals and cursing his colleagues’ inability to express themselves succinctly. In this way he managed to make his way through another five files and had just grabbed the sixth when there was a knock on the door and Arne Pedersen entered the room, almost before he had time to look up.
“Are you busy, Simon?”
“Yes, as you can see.” He let a hand fall heavily onto the stack of reports, deliberately singling out the wrong stack, one he had already read but that was now taller than the one he had not yet read.
Arne Pedersen nodded indifferently and asked, “Why are you crying?”
“My eyes aren’t what they once were. Tell me, does tissue paper have an expiration date? These are not very absorbent.”
He gathered up the used tissues that lay scattered in crumpled wads around his desk and swept them into the trash.
Pedersen replied, “They can be good or poor quality but I don’t think they have a sell-by date if that’s what you are asking. Maybe you should consider getting stronger glasses. You should go to an optometrist and get a check-up.”
“Thanks for the advice. What do you want? Is it important?”
“No, nothing special. I have something on that child-abuse e-mail that you asked me to take a look at, but I can send you my notes.”