The Exception (58 page)

‘I’m not lying. There just isn’t anything else to say. Look, I feel just like you. I’m scared that he’ll come after us too, but what can I do?’

The muscles around Iben’s jaw are twitching visibly. She stands with her feet planted apart. Brigitte, the vilest of the girls in Camilla’s class, used to stand like that in front of the teacher’s
desk. The others would cluster around her. When she found something to throw at Camilla, the others would start throwing things too.

Camilla has to sit down. She sinks onto one of the chairs at Paul’s meeting table and buries her face in her hands, pressing her fingers against her eyes.

Iben’s insistent voice comes at her through the darkness. ‘I’d like to believe you. It’s just that your whole manner won’t let me. You’re such a poor liar, Camilla.’

‘But I’m not lying!’

Camilla can hear her own voice go thin and shrill. Even with her head down and her eyes closed, Camilla can feel Iben silently watching in her warrior’s stance.

Camilla repeats herself. ‘I’m not lying! I’m not lying! I’m not lying!’

She hears Iben turn and walk away.

Camilla knows that she deserves everything she’s getting. They are right to punish her. She has been lying, and it has slowed the search for the man who is threatening to kill Iben. What if Iben is killed, or one of the others, just because Camilla hasn’t told the truth? Camilla is still sitting with her face in her hands when she hears Iben’s voice through the open door.

Iben is telling the others about her discovery. ‘I phoned Ljiljana Peric. That’s the woman who went to the same secondary school as Zigic. Remember I interviewed her for my article about him? Through her I got the name of a Belgrade journalist who knows Dragan but is now too scared to write a word about either him or Zigic. The journalist says that, without any doubt, Dragan is involved in drug trafficking, prostitution, and kidnapping. That can mean only one thing: the mafia.’

Iben raises her voice to make sure that Camilla won’t miss a word. ‘I have written about Dragan’s senior officer during the war. And Dragan was her boyfriend. It’s not necessarily Zigic who killed Rasmus; it could just as well have been Dragan. He
could have sent the emails. And broken into the office before we got the CCTV installed.’

Even if Camilla hadn’t already been hypersensitive about bullying, working at DCGI would have been enough. The way they used to treat Anne-Lise was totally uncalled for. Hundreds of times Camilla had wanted to help, but when she tried to be pleasant towards Anne-Lise, Iben and Malene would start harassing her. And, after all, she had to share an office with them, had to be a good team player to make the office run smoothly.

Once she had spoken up and said that they should treat their new colleague with a little more consideration. Malene had replied, ‘But Camilla, don’t you realise it’s different for Iben and me? We’re old friends. Anne-Lise is just someone who works in the same place as us.’

It was as if they had no idea of the harm their behaviour caused, or the effect it might have in the long run. Camilla knew. She had seen enough. Almost every day Anne-Lise retreated to the back of the library, behind the East European collection.

Anne-Lise hadn’t been with them long before Camilla began to feel she could no longer look her in the eye. She decided to mention it to Paul. She remembers well how it went.

‘Paul, I’m not sure that Anne-Lise is settling in. Could you talk to her? Maybe there’s something we could do, something to help her?’

‘Why do you think she isn’t happy?’

‘During the coffee break I thought that she might’ve been crying, because her eyes seemed bloodshot and she was flushed.’

‘Come on, Camilla! Haven’t you noticed that she looks like that all the time? It’s probably something to do with her skin, I suppose.’

He was on his way out. Camilla returned to her work and tried to be light-hearted while Iben and Malene poked fun at everything. But now Iben and Anne-Lise are chatting away in
the library, while Malene is struggling to find a way to cope on her own.

At lunch time Iben is still going on to Anne-Lise about Dragan. Camilla doesn’t feel like saying anything. She still doesn’t feel very well and eats her celery sticks in tiny bites.

No one around the lunch table is her old self. Anne-Lise is the only one who looks pleased. Malene is trying to open a pack of rye toasts, but fumbles and the whole thing slips from her hands. It falls to the floor and several slices break. No one bothers to make a little joke to make her feel better. No one calls her clumsy either. They simply stay silent.

It wasn’t until Camilla was an adult that she learned the main secret of survival. It’s simple. When someone is angry, you stand aside to allow the person’s anger to pass and hit the next one in line. She only wishes she had realised this many, many years earlier. This past year, the ‘next in line’ had been Anne-Lise. Now it seems to be Malene.

Malene picks up the most damaged slice of toast. She tries to show concern at the new information Iben has discovered about Dragan. Instead, she just looks lost.

Camilla can’t deny that, one way or another, she’s pleased to see Malene cut down to size. For one thing, she can’t stand the way Malene dresses, with her low-slung hipsters and sexy short tops – all completely unsuitable for the office.

Malene is chewing a sandwich. Camilla can see some cheese and bread sticking in between Malene’s teeth when she opens her mouth to speak.

‘You know, I can’t help wondering what else you’ve been lying to us about.’

She’s so transparent! Malene is hoping for approval from Iben and Anne-Lise.

Nobody responds.

‘Right. We’d better be good.’

She’s still trying hard to sound like her old self, but even that stock comment strikes a false note. Usually they always get up
and return to their desks, but not this time. Iben and Anne-Lise are not done eating. Only after several minutes does Anne-Lise pull her chair back. Iben follows her at once. And Camilla does too.

After lunch Camilla starts comparing a selection of Scandinavian hotels. DCGI is planning to host a small inter-Nordic seminar. Paul has asked her to make a list of the relative advantages and drawbacks of each as well as their prices so that he can make an informed decision. When he finally turns up, that is. She struggles with numbers and foreign-exchange rates. Meanwhile the Centre’s users keep phoning.

In the midst of everything, Malene is pestering her. Obviously, when Malene failed to win the others over by picking on her, she realised her only chance was for the two of them to join forces. So now, Camilla hasn’t had a peaceful moment all afternoon because Malene keeps coming over to have a chat about this or that – TV shows, or gossip about the board, or the users.

Camilla replies as briefly as she can to Malene’s chatter and keeps staring at the hotel details on her screen. At least it’s satisfying to have a handle on their tricks and know how to protect herself.

When Camilla goes off to fetch a new box of labels from the storeroom, Malene soon turns up.

‘Camilla, I want you to know something. It’s quite important if you’re to understand how Iben reacts to things.’

By now Camilla is determined to ignore everything Malene says. She pretends to look for something inside one of the shelving units, but Malene continues: ‘Iben had to be treated by psychiatrists when she was nineteen years old. She isn’t anywhere near as stable as she makes out. Back then she was much angrier and much more anxious than she is now. She actually wandered about in the streets with a knife strapped to her leg. Until they started treating her, that is.’

Camilla turns to look at Malene.

‘You know, it could be Iben who has identity problems,’ she
continues. ‘A split personality, if you like. What if she’s the one who sent the emails? Maybe she can’t face who she really is and that’s driving her against the two of us?’

What Malene is also implying is that Iben could have been the one who poured oil over the steps in Malene’s staircase and removed the railing in front of the large window. She just doesn’t say so.

Camilla can’t get away from the fact that there might be something in what Malene is telling her. It’s true that once or twice Camilla has noticed a strange bulge on the inside of Iben’s leg. Could it be that Iben has a knife tied to her leg all the time? Is she on the brink of becoming paranoid? And dangerously aggressive as well? Perhaps she has been ill for a long time.

After Malene’s revelations, Camilla finds a bit of research to do in the library. Passing behind Iben, she wants to see if there is still a bulge somewhere on Iben’s legs and get a glimpse of what Iben has been frantically writing about all this week, between her calls to Yugoslavia and giving Camilla a hard time.

Camilla discovers it’s impossible to spot any telltale lumps under Iben’s clothing, and every time Camilla walks by, Iben closes the document window. For the last couple of days Iben has been printing out something almost every hour, which is what she typically does when she is writing one of her long articles for
Genocide News
. But as far as Camilla knows, Iben isn’t scheduled to send in another article any time soon.

Iben’s fervour makes Camilla nervous. Maybe she’s making up a blanket of lies about Camilla and Dragan to show Paul when he comes back. What else could it be? Has Iben ferreted out more about them? Is she going to get Camilla fired?

Camilla can’t look through Iben’s wastepaper basket for printed pages, but in the evening the cleaners sometimes tip the contents of their baskets into the huge bag in the printer room. She goes to have a look. The container is full. Perhaps papers from the previous day are still there.

The door of the printer room can’t be locked. What if someone
comes in and finds her burrowing in the black bag full of other people’s waste? What’s her story then?

Camilla cannot think of one. She stands still and listens. Not a sound, no approaching steps or voices. But who says she would hear anything? Camilla peeks outside. Just then, Iben looks up from her screen. Camilla smiles stiffly. No response. Iben doesn’t smile back, just carries on writing.

Camilla closes the door and gets on with her search. The first layer is made up of wrappers from books that arrived for Anne-Lise this morning, and the next one is reams of database printouts. Then, almost at the bottom, Camilla finds the contents of yesterday’s wastepaper baskets. Just as she had hoped.

She leafs through several bundles of printed pages without taking them out of the bag. Then she digs deeper. At the very bottom of the waste there are small pieces of torn-up paper. Someone has taken the trouble to tear up her work before throwing it away. Camilla takes some of the largest fragments over to the window, and begins to read:

chology of Evil IX

We are rats! Experimental rats. Only condemned
           run in the labyrinth after social psycho
               laws we don’t know.

She puts five more pieces together on the window sill.

                     y interes
       gan when I once read in a newspaper abou
vestigation into traffic in a parking area. People took
longer to get out of their slot if another car was waiting
to park there. Men left their places much faster if the
waiting car was a high-prestige brand.

Women were indifferent to the brand and to the
presumed cost of the waiting car. None of the drivers
knew that they were acting according to these rules.
They just did what they did. We are all predictable.
We are rats.

Camilla doesn’t doubt for a second that it’s Iben who has written this. She cannot think what it has to do with herself or Dragan. The remaining bits are too small to make sense

        murderers among us who don’t acknowle
Gunnar some time in the future

Camilla dives into the bag again. Plastic ties and edges of cardboard poke into her armpit. But this time, when she backs out, she has a whole handful of torn pieces. Some of them seem to form a text, which she reassembles on the window sill.

logy of Evil X

               was also what Primo Levi wrote about the
harsh
ween prisoners when he was in Auschwitz: ‘It is naïve,
absurd, and historically false to believe that an infernal
system such as National Socialism sanctifies its victims;
on the contrary, it degrades them, it makes them
resemble itself.’

The style of these fragments suggests an academic article, but it doesn’t seem likely that Iben is writing it for
Genocide News
or the DCGI website. It’s so incoherent and repetitive.

                 We are slaves of
             predicta
errible! We are nothing but rats! How could a human
   break out of being

In the Winter Garden she hears the others calling out: ‘Hi, Paul!’

‘Paul, hello! There you are!’

Then Paul’s voice, loud and cheerful. ‘Party time!’

Camilla hurriedly hides her bits of paper under two boxes and runs out to meet him.

Everyone is there. Paul has stopped just inside the front door. He is grinning broadly and waving a bottle of champagne. ‘Volunteers, please! Who’ll get the glasses?’

But the women are so curious that none of them wants to leave.

‘Hey, Malene! Could you get five glasses from the kitchen?’

And then he starts telling them what has happened.

‘Frederik has left the board! That’s one obstacle to our survival out of the way!’

Iben has to ask: ‘He’s gone? But …’

Paul pats her shoulder and replies before she can finish her question. ‘That’s right, I’m in no position to vote him off. Nor is anyone else, not even Ole. The only way was for him to resign.’

Anne-Lise chips in. ‘He did? And we thought that it might be you who Ole—’

Laughing, Paul interrupts her. ‘Yes, but he can’t. If I’m not here as the leader, there’s no state funding for the Centre. Seems that Ole forgot that momentarily.’

Anne-Lise, who is standing behind Iben, moves up a little. ‘Paul, what do you …’

‘An old friend of mine is a spokesman for this sector in the party that holds the deciding vote. And DCGI receives its grant on his say-so. Or not.’