The Red Box

by Laura Sgarella

They were searched from top to toe and nothing was found. So why did you run quickly at the sight of an officer for a brief argument? A pack of stolen chips was not enough to be considered a crime. The officer started to lose patience and informed the two guys that they wouldn’t be released until they confessed the reason for their running away at the sight of his badge as a policeman. “Do you smoke?” was the other concern. “Do you drink water, beer or wine?” The officer never stopped provoking Pit and Put. “Now let me know why you have been given this loveable nickname.”

  There was no way the two guys would talk. The officer decided to lock the two guys in the cell and to start the enquiry later on again. This fact was so queer that the following day it hit the headlines. “Two Senegalese pinched for a small argument following the theft of a pack of chips.” People were very nosy to learn more about the story. Any newsagent sold out of copies of the paper very early in the morning. Rotterdam was a very liveable city and episodes like those were an exception. Somebody swore they had seen the thieves leaving the supermarket in a hurry without having covered their faces. It was as if they had nothing to hide or to be chased for. During their rush, Put had lost his home key where there was written his home address and an old widow had collected it. She considered it her duty to bring it to the constabulary and so she did. At least the officer had more information on the life of the two. They lived in a small flat in Water Street. The policemen were astonished by the fact that there was nothing suspicious in that apartment they went to search. There were no guns no pistols. Drugs were not found anywhere. There were no jewels, no valuables of any kind. There was not the slightest trace of the presence of women. The flat was quite tidy and clean. Right on the drawer in one of the two bedrooms one officer found a license for selling goods. It was everything within the norm. The officer was attracted by the collection of CDs and DVDs exposed in the sitting room, but it didn’t tell a lot about the two guys. The cop went to check one by one the clothes of the two guys and the most dangerous thing he found were two packets of chewing-gum.

  In the kitchen dirty dishes were placed on the table next to two bottles of vodka. There was even the odour of the dinner of the day before. The officer, forlorn, went to the constabulary where he decided to hold Pit and Put in prison until they would say something about their rush out of the supermarket. They were probably two scapegoats but the officer needed to respect the law. He went in the entrance of the prison where other cases of crime had to be examined by him. Sometimes he wondered why he was doing a boring job. To deal with the low life every day had brought him a form of depression. He was married to a nurse who used to tell better stories once she arrived home after an exhausting working day.

  A phone call from London arrived just on time to sort things out. It said that a fake painting of Monet had replaced the stolen one into the National Gallery. There were no suspects at the moment but that could have a link with what happened in Amsterdam. A pack of chips wouldn’t replace a painting, of course. But Pit and Put didn’t seem to be able to commit worse thefts.

  After twenty-four hours in the cell, the two guys were questioned again. This time they finally decided to talk. Pit, the older one, confessed they had stolen a pack of chips and that they ran away quickly at the sight of the police for fear of getting a small fine. He swore they had not done anything similar before but now they were earning less money than usual. They were working in a factory and they hadn’t been receiving a salary for three months because of the crisis of the factory. He apologised for not having talked before but he was shocked by the happening. The officer believed the guy was telling the truth and, having no other evidence against them, he decided to release the two on bail. Accidents like those were so unusual in Holland that the main newspaper dropped a lot of ink for the exposure of the fact. Pit and Put finally arrived home and organized themselves to go back to work. They couldn’t lie to the boss concerning their absence. of the previous day because of the vociferous newspapers.

  Van der Baast’s icy eyes showed a certain troubled calm. He was all alone in his office thinking of the operation he was supposed to do. He had to deal with a patient due to be cured with stem cells otherwise he could lose his right leg. The problem came from the fact that those cells were of undoubted provenance. They had apparently derived from the vivisection of an unnamed dead body. The hospital was poor of justice and Van der Baast knew it very well. He was in front of a demoted enigma. Out of the room of the patients there were all his relatives waiting for information about the condition of their beloved one from the doctor. One of them was crying for the fear that her uncle wouldn’t be able to walk again. The only even-tempered person was the ill man in his room. He was utterly unaware of anything happening to him. He knew that somebody had driven him in that hospital bed, nothing else. Van der Baast was close to his resignation. He couldn’t stand situations like that one. He was also keen to inform Araon of his state of mind of a person who had no clue to the solution of their secret case. For the moment he took a deep breath and prepared himself to go outside and talk to the relatives of the sick man. “Hi to everybody,” he introduced himself. “I ask you kindly to stay out of this room and I will have a chat with all of you as soon as possible. Now I have to visit your beloved one.”

  The voice of the doctor was trembling. He seemed to be a doctor without experience involved with his first visit to a man. All the relatives of the patient obeyed instantly and waited for the doctor to him to give information about the state of health of the sick man. The patient, a man in his eighties, was totally unaware of what could happen to him. He didn’t show any clear sign of suffering. He wasn’t particularly hungry but this was probably due to the fact that he had to stay in bed all day long. Van der Baast visited him carefully before being able to take a decision. He knew that the stem cells wouldn’t do any good. But to avoid their usage meant to give way to the amputation of the leg. After a while, after taking a decision, he let the relatives of the man enter the room and he exposed his commentary notes to them. “At the moment, I cannot say anything particular about this case. We are considering using stem cells to deal with the diabetes of this man but we must be very careful. If you agree to proceed with this method of cure you need to sign a paper that I’ll give to you now. At the moment I have nothing else to say. You could face a brutish reality such as the amputation of the right leg of your relative. Please take this paper and decide if you want to sign it or not. Now I’m busy with other patients and I have to go. Thank you for your patience.”

  All the relatives of the diabetic. had a lot of doubts about the decision they had to take. There was the losing of the right leg of their beloved at stake. They had not much information on the stem cells but they were unanimous to opt for their usage. The room was cold and dark. It was not the perfect place for a man who had to suffer so much. His oldest daughter talked to a nurse about the possibility of making his dad change room. But now she was concerned with something more important than that. In the time Van der Baast was going around the hospital site to visit all the other patients, he felt so relieved by that little hint of success that he abandoned the idea of resignation. He was happy to notice that to many patients, a smile was enough to make them feel better. Once finished all the visits, he went to close himself in his office. He had with him the stem cells in a glass case. He had analyzed them several times before he could reach the conclusion that they came from the dead body of a woman. But probably this was not a serious issue and the patient could be cured with them. He had also decided to save all of them in his office in order to make studies on dead bodies. He had a nostalgic thought of Araon whom he had to help to sort the mystery of the missing corpse at the Van Gogh Museum out. That secret could be easily hidden in a glass case. Van der Baast was very excited and decided to stay closed in his office until his next turn of visits. He wanted to be obedient to his spirit of righteousness. He was finally meek and calm. He had a subtle glance at his wristwatch and realized he had at le
ast two hours to stay on his own. He was considering when to share with Araon all those innovations. He knew Araon went to Rotterdam but he didn’t know if he had come back yet. He felt suddenly drowsy. It must be the effect of the sleeping pills he had taken the previous night. He had passed sleepless nights recently and he suffered because of that. There was a newspaper in the drawer of the desk. He used it to keep awake. It didn’t report good news. Headlines of riots in Syria, tales of kidnapped babies, hints on unemployment were covered carefully in the pages of that paper. For Van der Baast it was enough to regain optimism concerning his job.

  CHAPTER SIXTEEN

  Mark the homeless was a bright man when he wanted to be one. He was still in the realm of his dreams when the nurse called him for his breakfast Eggs, ham, fruit juice and milk were ready for him. He turned his face at the sweet voice of the woman. It was Wednesday, the day the hospital staff spent caring for the homeless. Mark was unusually apathetic. Only at the third attempt of the nurse to make him get up did he decide to go and have his breakfast. A map of the world was hanging on the kitchen wall in order to arouse peoples’ curiosity. All those people were supposed to stay only for a limited period over there and they did their best to entertain themselves. Mark finally turned eyes. He focused his attention to the drawing of The United Kingdom. Actually, he had never asked himself if he was British. He hadn’t a passport since he had lived in the streets for a long time, but he was supposed to ask for one now. He was still dumb because of the memory of the acrostic he would never able to decipher. It was the only activity that made him feel important. and, for the moment, he didn’t share his fondness with anybody else.

  The nurse called him again. She asked him if he would like to earn some money. They would provide him a bank account and a regular work permit. Mark rejoiced at the news. It was the first time he saw himself as a lucky man. He swore to himself that he would never stop investigating on the big mystery he bumped into whatever the job he was supposed to do. He was told by the nurse that he had to deal with horses. The riding ground in the outskirts of Amsterdam was the place to undertake his job “Do you know dear Mark,” started the nurse, “When you arrived here you were a blessing for everybody. As a hospital we have the duty to help whoever needs it. You have been living in the streets for a very long time for reasons we don’t know. Hopefully, you are fine now. After this first period of time you have spent with us, we have the duty to give some work for you. We don’t know your background, of course, but we think that a job dealing with horses is very appropriate for you. All you have to do is to wash their place, to feed them, to make sure that whoever wants to mount them is fit for that activity. In fact, you have to hold horse riding lessons without a particular license for it. I’m sure you’ll like this job a lot. It keeps you busy all day long and it helps you rebuild your life entirely. Now wait for the personnel chosen to go with you to the place and you are ready to start,” said the nurse.

  “I’m very grateful to everybody. I see my life is changing utterly. I confess I have never mounted a horse in my life and I don’t know if I will ever able to do it. Anyway, your words have woken me from my stupor. I’ll stay here waiting for the personnel to pick me up as you told me.”

  Mark didn’t know if to rejoice or to be as sad as ever. Now he had a commitment for all day with a little window. That suggested to him that he shouldn’t pass a lot of time enquiring about the mystery of the acrostic and try to disentangle it as he had been doing lately. Anyway, he made no objections and, he felt blessed by the bandaged goddess. He wondered now how to take care of his bank account. He hadn’t much experience in dealing with money. His home was the street for a long time. And the food he had eaten was not the godsend coming from his job but from his begging. That was his manna and bread and butter. He was sure he would conquer the weapon of his financial independence very soon. The personnel he had been waiting for arrived a bit late. It was ten o’ clock and they were supposed to be already in the riding ground. they were supposed to be far from the bustle and hassle of the city right now. They were quietly driving through the streets of Amsterdam. Mark had never seen the city so beautiful before. When they finally arrived at the place of destination, Mark started to take everything seriously. The people who were supposed to be his employers seemed to be genial and icy at the same time. They barely shook hands and introduced themselves. Their only concern was to make Mark start working as soon as possible and they did it with artfulness. The personnel of the hospital left Mark undisturbed with the pledge to go and pick him up at six o’ clock that evening. Time passed quickly maybe because Mark felt at ease with his brand-new job. He realized he could do his task while thinking of the big enigma of the blood and acrostic on the pub door. He continuously watched people around with the innocent eyes of a child. There was a very neat picture. He felt so blessed. A little child arrived in the company of his mum. He was there to learn horse riding, of course. Mark introduced him to all the little horses to let him start working soon. The child picked the bay one. The most beautiful of all. Mark was busy all day and this gave him a filling sensation. He finally had the occasion to talk to all the customers just to break the ice. “What do you think of my way of working?” he started.

  “I am very happy with you. I have to apologize but to run a riding ground is a huge responsibility and I have little time to chat to whoever. I’m sure we will enjoy all the time we have to spend together. I’ll stop you at lunch time and we’ll have the time to share our experiences. Now carry on and take it easy. Somebody is looking for me, if I’m not wrong. I’m just confused.” Mark seemed never to stop talking, unaware of the lack of interest of his pupils. He spent the rest of the day looking after them with the innocent amazement of a child.

  Araon and Jill were sharing the joy of life in their little flat in St. Luciensteg. It was not unusual for them to enjoy frenzy and excitement. The flat was all messed up and Jill was not in the right mood to tidy it up. All she wanted was to hear about Araon’s experiences during his stay in Rotterdam.

  “It was terrific!” he said. “I spent a couple of days on my own in the central square. I enjoyed myself a lot listening to gossip that people were saying passing by in the street. I never spent a minute without thinking of you. I know you were looking forward to being arm in arm with me.”

  “And now there is the possibility of sharing this huge responsibility, the greatest joy of life we are expecting to fulfil,” she answered.

  “So you have repeated pregnancy test?”

  “Yes, but so far it doesn’t tell a lot. We must be patient.”

  “By the way, have you listened to the news recently? A newborn baby was going to strangle himself with the umbilical cord. Luckily the doctor managed to free him from his throttle. I feel very strange recently. Instead of being optimistic I look for sad news such as the one I have talked to you about,” said Araon

  “I think it is the male correspondent of childbirth depression. You are frightened by the big responsibility we are going to face. But you cannot imagine the joy of becoming parent,” answered Jill.

  After that it seemed they had nothing else to say to each other. They watched themselves steadily in their eyes just saying nothing. Those moments seemed to be an eternity. The sun outside brought outstanding jubilation. Every little concern was unable to be removed. The dust over the furniture was a reason of shame for Jill. She had been very lazy recently with the excuse she was waiting for Araon to come back from Rotterdam. The sun affected deeply her mood and thoughts of shame were followed by mischievous thoughts. Jill was thinking of an abundance of blood that spoilt their flat. And after the blood there was the sand. She was the bearer of a tinkling with her harsh voice. Araon had never seen her like that. He had always liked to experience life to the full and now it was time to awake from that bloody torpor. Jill shook impatiently.

  “What’s the matter today love?”

  “Nothing particular, at least I dare say so. I have just envisaged
blood and dust in large quantities. I am not superstitious but I confess I am very frightened.”

  “You worry too much. I wouldn’t waste time trying to figure out the hidden mysteries of your imagination. Just go out for a walk on your own and you’ll see your nerves will calm down,” said Jill

  “What do you think about jogging? It’s a long time since we have done it. We should enjoy this now before your belly denies you this possibility,” said Araon.

  “I think you should go on your own as I have just suggested. I would like to go out and admire the shop windows. It’s a long time since I’ve been shopping. I need to have a look at the spring-summer collection at the department store. I don’t think it’s too early to look for maternity dresses.”

  “OK. You win again. You go shopping and I’ll try to forget all those scaring thoughts.”

  Araon knew the meaning of Jill’s concern and agitation. She was in charge of a secret that was revealing itself little by little, unconsciously. He didn’t know what to do. For the moment his priority was to calm her down. Maybe later on, when destiny would provide him with a tiny hint of truth, he would chat with her about any particulars of the matter. Now it was just too early to expose Jill to such a reality. “Jill, I have got the point. I’ll come with you. Just give me a few minutes to shave my beard and I’ll be down with you,” he said with a placatory tone.”

  “I’m not saying we have to hurry up. Take your time, I’ll wait for you.”

  Araon cut himself with the electric razor. He considered it a sign of destiny that similitude with Van Gogh hurting himself with his razor when he was becoming mad. He was not joking, as he said within himself. He had to get rid of any sense of guilt because of that bloody secret he was hiding from Jill.

  It was nearly ten am when they finally left their flat. The streets were astonishingly deserted. Araon and Jill, hand in hand, were the only people whose shadow embellished the right side of the pavement. The colour of the season improved the already brilliant vibe. Araon and Jill were locked like a knot one to the other, but this didn’t forbid Araon from making all his hidden thoughts run. He was concerned with the situation at work. It was his duty to go there every now and then to make sure that the workers were doing the right job. Anyway, he was without a penny in his pockets. He had his personal card which was enough not to penalize Jill with his sorrows. And insecurity.