The Exception: A Novel Part 19

At the next break Iben zigzags between the groups in the restaurant. She feels the weight of the knife against her leg. What if it was one of these delegates who hatched the plan to send the e-mails and deposited the blood on the bookshelf?

One of the academics who often comes to study at the DCIG stops Iben. He seems puzzled. Something about you has changed. What is it?

What makes you ask?

Nothing I can put my finger on just something.

Maybe Im a little tired.

No, no. Thats not it.

He starts speaking about the e-mails, which he heard about when Zigic was at the top of the list of suspects. Now he is keen to tell her the latest news. The story is that Zigics group of Serbian Mafia is expanding its network into Russia and the USA. Zigic has been sighted recently in the States and in Germany.

Suddenly Lea turns up at Ibens side. She says that she truly likes everything about the DCIG. Every few months or so, you seem to improve on some aspect of what you do!

Oh, good. Thanks.

Take what your Anne-Lise just told me about fixing up the library so there is s.p.a.ce for readers again clearing the book stacks off the reading desks and so on.

This is the first Iben has heard of such a plan. She knows Malene will explode when she learns about it. Obviously, she had better go along with Lea for now.

Yes, it is one of the better ideas weve had.

People are heading back to listen to the last lecture, and Lea joins the movement in the direction of the concert hall, but she makes a final remark: Its so much better to be able to read with Anne-Lise close at hand. And the books as well. Such an improvement on using the meeting room.

chapter 21.

the silence is everywhere over the desks and between the shelving units. It makes wandering around in the Center feel strange. Bleak strip lighting, stillness. Despite the stacks of paper, the computer screens, and all the usual office clutter, Iben feels as if shes walking in the mist over a dank meadow.

It could be that her mind is somehow more porous because she woke up so early after yet another wakeful night. Everything about the office and herself seems unreal and dreamlike.

Just in case Anne-Lise also turns up at work abnormally early and catches Iben on the library computer, Iben has an excuse ready. Her story is that she wants to add a few new keywords on the articles about Sudan that she is working on. The access codes to the database are kept in Anne-Lises computer. Iben has never used the program before, but that doesnt matter much.

She sits down on Anne-Lises chair and cant avoid looking at the photograph of Anne-Lises husband and children. It is placed right next to a digital clock, which blinks 07:18.

The computer is in standby mode. When Iben presses a key a dialog box pops up. It denies access and asks for a pa.s.sword. She tries pressing Enter, which usually does the trick for most of the office computers, but Anne-Lise has actually installed proper pa.s.sword protection. Iben tries Anne-Lise, but still the system wont let her log on.

Complete silence.

Iben and Malene need something tangible to show Paul if they are to defend the Center and themselves against Anne-Lise. Without some proof that Anne-Lise sent the e-mails, he will not force her to take sick leave and she will keep wandering about among the bookcases, growing weirder all the time, until her bottled-up rage finally explodes.

Iben doesnt dare try any more pa.s.swords, because the computer might block any further attempts to log on, and Anne-Lise mustnt find out that someone has been tampering with it. Iben puts the light out, closes the door, and settles back at her own desk, where she tries to concentrate on what a group of Dutch experts has written about Muslims in the southern Russian states.

The others arrive. She gives Malene a whispered account of what has happened, and later, in midmorning, she goes to the library.

Anne-Lise, tell me something: if I come across some new keywords that I think should be added to the library database, what should I do?

You just tell me. Ill key them in. Thats no problem at all.

Yes, sure. But what if I thought I might as well do it myself? How do I go about it?

Iben, its far easier if you give them to me. Ill see to it.

Thanks. But Id like to be able to do it myself.

Well, now I usually manage the database. I have the necessary overview. Why not just leave it to me?

But what if I want to learn?

Iben is aware that it doesnt sound all that plausible, but she doesnt care. How could Anne-Lise object? They repeat themselves a couple more times, but in the end Anne-Lise shows Iben how new keywords are entered for a t.i.tle of a book or an article. Then Iben gets to the point.

If Im in and youre not here, can I just start your computer and get on with this?

How do you mean, if Im not here? Why shouldnt I be here?

Oh, I dont know. If you were ill or had left early or something.

It is obvious that Anne-Lise doesnt like the way this is going, but she doesnt attempt to find out what Iben is really after. You simply start my computer.

Iben smiles and tries to keep her expression innocent. Right. You dont have a personal pa.s.sword or anything?

No.

Anne-Lise looks as if shes telling the truth. She is good at that and doesnt let on that theres any more to this than a chat about entering new keywords. Its only to be expected. She has proven quite capable of coming in every day for months without giving away how deeply she hates them all.

Iben probes a little further. What if your computer is on standby?

That makes no difference.

Still no pa.s.sword protection?

Not at all. It shouldnt be necessary, should it? Do the rest of you use pa.s.swords?

Iben looks at her. No, we dont. Its useful to be able to access everybody elses computer if you want to look something up.

There you are. I agree.

They smile at each other. Irritated, Iben returns to the Winter Garden. Today was the last chance of being alone in the office before nine oclock. Tomorrow Bjarne will install the new computer-controlled lock and the CCTV camera on the landing. It means Camilla will be back at work, and she always comes in much earlier than everybody else because Paul has allowed her the same working hours as her husband.

It doesnt take Bjarne long to install the camera, but then theres the cable through the Winter Garden to the server and the new piece of software to be installed on everyones computer. Camilla loads it on first and Iben and Malene line up to test it. Malene goes out onto the landing.

Hey, can you save my picture?

Iben fiddles with the new menu options and keyboard commands.

Yes, I think so There, Ive saved you.

Malene hurries along to Camillas screen. Oh, no! I look awful!

Iben has to laugh, because its true. Malenes face is an enormous bloated mask. Her greasy-looking skin is spotted with white blotches.

You must be standing too close! Wait.

Iben runs outside. Now save me too!

Back at Camillas computer, they burst out laughing. I look just like you!

I suppose if you stood farther away Except then its hard to see who it is.

What kind of surveillance camera is this? It makes everyone look the same.

Malene wants Iben to take another picture of her and runs out again. She shouts from the landing: Imagine the Wanted Persons descriptions! Two females, both looking like blobby white frogs, wanted for Malene must be having a good day or she wouldnt be able to run around like this. They cant stop laughing.

Bjarne joins in the merriment. He turns toward the library door. h.e.l.lo in there! Anne-Lise, wont you come and have your picture taken too?

Anne-Lise says that she is busy.

Malene looks quickly at Iben before calling out. Oh, Anne-Lise! Why not do something for the fun of it? Just this once!

It seems that Anne-Lise doesnt hear her, though the door is open, of course.

But the break ends. Phones ring. There are e-mails to be sent.

Bjarne is still there at lunchtime and helps divert the tension. He chews happily on a ham and beetroot salad sandwich from his voluminous lunch box and laughs a lot, enjoying the attention the women pay him. Meanwhile, Iben wonders about Anne-Lises behavior. She has been odd since day one, but this is different. Isnt she being strange in a new way?

Anne-Lise eats a fish paste sandwich. The way she looks down all the time, you see more of her eyebrows than of her eyes. Knowing the kind of thing shes capable of is enough to make you nervous about being alone with her in the office.

Bjarne is talking about his girlfriend, a landscape architect, and how hard it is for her to get commissions. He tells them about some of her recent job applications.

Iben looks at Anne-Lises mouth, tightly shut when she chews, and her cheeks, bulging as the lump of food is shifted about behind her closed lips. How little sets her apart from other withdrawn people, Iben thinks. If I didnt know what I know about her, would I see what kind of person she is?

That evening Iben cycles home from work in the pouring rain through the dark streets lit only by reflections of car headlights on the wet pavement. Luckily shes dressed for the weather. Inside the downstairs hallway she pulls off her waterproof clothes. Underneath them she is damp with sweat.

Walking upstairs to her apartment, Iben is glad to know that the knife is there, taped to her leg. Before unlocking her door, she always bends to touch it through her trousers. Images play in her head about how quickly she could draw it. Its not very rational. Knife or no knife, she would be no match for an experienced fighter. Besides, thats neither here nor there now that its clear Anne-Lise sent the e-mails.

Once more she steps over the pile of junk mail on the doormat; once more she walks around her apartment to make sure n.o.body is hiding; once more she sticks a square block of frozen cod into the microwave oven. And once more she checks her e-mail nothing new except spam and glances at the answering machine, which doesnt blink.

She sits down to eat at the small round dining table, a piece she inherited from her grandmother. Her living room is furnished with casually acquired bits and pieces and looks rather bare. Sometime soon, she tells herself, I must follow Malenes example buy a sofa at least, just in case I have a guest. But he wouldnt think it looked homey or pretty, like Malenes. Maybe a patterned throw, in hot colors, would help. Then the room wouldnt be so plain all white walls, bookshelves, and dark wood. She has thought about this kind of thing so often, but now she feels ready to go ahead and do something about it.

She props her book up and reads while she eats her piece of cod with some red peppers and crisp-bread. The book is Raul Hilbergs The Destruction of the European Jews, which she bought secondhand on the Internet.

After supper, she washes her hair. Then, her damp hair wrapped in a towel and a cup of tea at hand, she settles down to phone Grith, just to gossip. n.o.body answers.

Iben doesnt have Gunnars number in her address book, but she knows it by heart after having heard it only once. She has never used it and doesnt ring him tonight either. Instead she calls her mother and talks with her, while the television rumbles on in the background. Her mother says that she ran into some old friends recently and they thought it was great to see Iben interviewed on television about her captivity. They send their regards. Ibens mother says that they asked her to tell Iben theyre pleased it all ended so well.

chapter 22.

When Iben goes out again later that evening, it is still raining. Its late half past ten already. She dislikes being outside when it is too dark to see who is walking toward you or crossing the road in your direction. Inwardly she curses the plan she and Malene have made, which keeps her away from her cozy bed and Hilbergs book.

Malene and Rasmus pick her up in a taxi. It takes them to the DCIG building. As Iben peers up at the office windows from under her umbrella, water trickles down the back of her neck.

No lights on.

They need to spend at least one hour in the office without being disturbed, and her greatest fear is that Paul might come by.

Once inside, Ibens heart beats faster. This isnt a real break-in, she tells herself. If we had to face a guard, or the DCIG board, we could talk our way out of it.

Malenes breathing tells Iben that she too feels anxious. She echoes Ibens thoughts. Its not a real break-in. Why shouldnt we be in our own workplace?

They listen for sounds. Nothing. After taking the ancient elevator to the top floor, they listen again. Somewhere below them, a person leaves an office. They almost stop breathing. The person calls the elevator, its door bangs, and they hear its customary whine as it descends. Is it a guard perhaps? Or somebody working late? A cleaner? What would Paul do if a security guard phoned him in the middle of the night? Ever since the confrontation about Anne-Lises mental health, their relationship with him has been somewhat strained. Paul would have to inform Ole and Frederik and the rest of the board.

What is the worst-case scenario? It has to be that Anne-Lise didnt write these e-mails and that somewhere in the darkness Mirko Zigic is waiting for them.

When the person downstairs has left, Malene enters the security code its 110795, the date the ma.s.sacre at Srebenica began.

In the Winter Garden many small points of red or green light glow on computers, phones, and other equipment. Hardly any light from the city penetrates the curtain of rain, but after they have stood about in the dark room for a while, the piles of paper take on a faint glow, like rectangular moons.

They avoid switching on any lamps. Iben and Malene, who know this place well enough to find their way around it blindfolded, walk toward the library. Malene leads, and Rasmus and Iben follow.

The darkness is more opaque in the library, but Iben and Malene have both brought their bicycle lamps. Rasmus sits down on Anne-Lises chair and the women stand on either side of him. He uses the keyboard with lightning-quick familiarity.

Yep, its pa.s.sword protected. I cant get around it, but thats okay. Just checking. Lets go find the server.

They make their way to the small, windowless storage room where the server is kept, close the door, and then turn on the lights.

I need the administrators pa.s.sword. Lets look for it. Rasmus has good instincts about where people will write things down that they shouldnt write down. He checks underneath the blotting pad and the keyboard and behind the monitor. While hes at it, he looks over the folders on the shelf. The others help, but in the end they give up.

Looks like Ill have to switch off the server.

Without waiting for an answer and without closing Windows, Rasmus switches it off at the wall. Iben leans against an unpainted chipboard shelf full of office materials. Safe behind a closed door and with the light on, she takes several deep breaths, almost like sighs.

Rasmus puts a disk into the drive and switches the terminal on again. After a while, he exclaims: Just what I hoped! Its programmed to look for a start-up disk in the drive before it begins running its own program from the hard drive. That way, if theres a problem, the administrator can start it up from a disk. Ive put in my own start-up program, which will direct the computer to read my copy of Windows. Ive got the CD here.

His little black bag holds innumerable homemade CDs. He loads one of them into the computer. It responds and a stream of numbers and letters flows across the screen.

Good. That worked. Rasmus, like all true enthusiasts, is beginning to forget his surroundings. His whole being focuses happily on the computer. There! Its running my program. Ill get the administrators pa.s.sword in no time.