Faye looked at her as she hung her jacket on the back of the chair. There was a distant look in Chris’s eyes.
“How are you feeling?”
“Today’s a good day,” she said. “But then I haven’t had to go to the hospital. I’m having dinner with Johan tonight.”
“What did he say when you told him?”
Chris looked down at the tabletop.
“I haven’t told him. I . . . I can’t do it. I can’t lose him.”
Her eyes filled with shame. And fear. That frightened Faye. She had never seen Chris look ashamed before. Never seen her show any fear.
She took her friend’s hand.
“Oh, sweetie, I understand. Would it be easier if I was there when you told him? Just . . . well, just in case.”
Chris nodded slowly.
“Would you do that?”
“Of course I would, if it would make it easier for you.”
“I hate to be a nuisance, but I feel so weak, so helpless. The few hours when I manage to be myself are so exhausting that all I can do when I’m not with Johan is sit around. Who’d have thought this was where I’d end up spending my last days. At the Sture Bathhouse.”
And with that she smiled a real smile. A trace of the real Chris, Faye thought, and smiled back.
—
The school where Johan worked was a big red-brick building on Valhallavägen. A few boys and girls the same age as Julienne were hanging around the gates. They looked over as Faye and Chris got out of the taxi and walked into the schoolyard.
They entered a long corridor full of turquoise lockers. There was no one in sight.
“Do you know where he is?” Faye asked.
“No, but there should be some sort of lunch break now, shouldn’t there?”
Faye looked at the time. Midday. At that moment the classroom doors ahead of them opened in a synchronized movement and the pupils streamed out. She grabbed a spotty teenager in a cap and padded jacket and asked if he knew where Johan the Swedish-language teacher was.
“Johan Sjölander,” Chris added.
He shook his head and walked off.
They pushed up against the lockers to avoid being sent flying by a group of very noisy boys.
“Try calling him.”
Chris put her mobile to her right ear and covered her left ear with the other hand. She turned away when he answered.
The corridor started to empty. Faye found being back in school unsettling. The height differences, the insecure, flitting eyes, the hierarchies. The tensions were all on the surface, ready to snap at the slightest provocation. Matilda had tried to move through corridors like this as invisibly as possible, but it had never worked. Everyone always knew who she was. Everyone knew what had happened.
Chris tapped her on the shoulder.
“He’s meeting us outside.”
“What did he say?”
“He seemed . . . surprised that I was here. And pleased.”
She sounded nervous and excited at the same time. They followed the stream of pupils through a glass door, down the steps into the schoolyard again, and found a free bench close to some bushes.
“How are you feeling?” Faye asked.
“Nervous.”
“It’s going to be fine. Absolutely fine.”
Chris nodded but didn’t seem convinced. A door opened and a tall, thin man in jeans and a checked shirt came out. His blond hair was unkempt. He caught sight of them and headed in their direction with a broad smile on his lips. There was something very open, generous about him, Faye liked him immediately. He was nothing like the other men Faye had seen Chris with over the years. She took this as a definite plus. Chris had never been good at choosing men, but Faye had a feeling that Johan was very different.
“Chris,” he said brightly. “Great to see you! What are you doing here?”
Chris leaped to her feet and hugged him. When they separated he turned to Faye.
“You must be the famous Faye. Lovely to meet you at last. I was starting to wonder if you were Chris’s imaginary friend.”
She shook his outstretched hand. He must have realized that their visit wasn’t quite as cheerful as he had thought at first, because an anxious look appeared on his face.
“Is everything okay?” he asked.
“Perhaps we should sit down,” Faye said, gesturing toward the bench.
Chris sat between them. She took a deep breath, hesitated, but Faye nudged her gently with her elbow. Chris glared at her, then took Johan’s hand.
“Johan, there’s something I need to tell you . . .” she began, and Faye nodded encouragingly. “I’m ill. I’ve got cancer. The sort it’s hard to do anything about.”
Her words came out quickly, and were almost unintelligible. But Johan’s face revealed that he’d heard what she’d said. His mouth opened to say something, then closed again. He took a deep breath and nodded.
“I know,” he said slowly.
“You do?” Faye and Chris exclaimed in unison.
“I saw the note about your chemotherapy appointment in your apartment.”
“Why didn’t you say?”
“Because . . . I thought it was up to you if you wanted to tell me or not. I assumed you would when you felt ready.”
Chris wrapped her arms around him.
“And you . . . you don’t want to leave me? If you did, I’d understand.”
The fear in her eyes was so great that Faye broke into a cold sweat.
But Johan laughed and shook his head. A fractured, ragged laugh, but still a laugh.
“Bloody hell, darling. It would take a hell of a lot more than cancer to make me leave you. I’ve never been with anyone who makes me as happy as you do.”
“But I might die. I’m more likely to die than survive.”
Johan nodded thoughtfully. “Yes, you might. And if you do, my ugly face will be the last thing you see.”
Around them children were yelling and shouting, full of hope for the future, good and bad times alike ahead of them. Triumphs and mistakes. Chris ought to have plenty of mistakes left, she had always been world-class when it came to mistakes. She’d always said bad mistakes were what made life worth living.
Faye turned away so Chris wouldn’t see her tears. From the corner of her eye she saw Chris lean against Johan as she explained the current situation. In spite of the terrible circumstances, it was the most beautiful conversation Faye had ever heard. And Chris smiled like a child whenever Johan so much as opened his mouth. Faye wondered how Jack would have reacted if she’d told him anything like this. Jack didn’t like illness. Or weakness. He’d be gone before the end of the first sentence, on his way toward fresh adventures.
Faye got up to leave them alone but Johan asked her to stay. He turned to Chris.
“Okay, you’ve had your say, so now I want to say something that I’ve been holding back. And it’s probably best if Faye stays, seeing as you might leave me after this, and then I’d need someone to give me a hug.”
Chris looked worried, and Faye felt annoyed. Now wasn’t the time to confess to any indiscretions or whatever else he was going to say. She got ready to drag Chris away from there.
But Johan put his hand in his pocket and pulled something out, then he got down on one knee in front of Chris and held both her hands. Something was glinting between his fingers and Faye’s heart started to thud. She glanced at Chris, who looked totally uncomprehending. Her anger faded as quickly as it had arisen, and she broke out in goose bumps all over. Johan only had eyes for Chris as he knelt there on the asphalt of the schoolyard. Some of the children seemed to have realized something was going on, like dogs scenting a treat, and stopped to watch in small groups.
But in Johan’s world there was no one but him and Chris. He cleared his throat, “Chris, you’re the most wonderf
ul person I’ve ever met, you’re the kindest and smartest person I’ve ever encountered. I love you so, so much. Right from the very first time I saw you. If you hadn’t followed me to Farsta I was planning to go back to the salon the next day, to get a Mohawk of my own, or God knows what. This ring . . .” He held out a sparkling engagement ring. “I bought this ring four days after we met. I’ve kept it on me ever since. I didn’t want to look like a lunatic by getting it out too early, but for me there’s never been any such thing as too early with you. So now I’ve kept hold of it for far too long. So I was wondering if you might consent to wear it on your finger? I guess what I’m asking is . . . will you marry me?”
The children around them started to whoop and cheer. A few let out wolf whistles. One girl yelled, “Come on, say yes! Mr. Sjölander’s the best! Best teacher ever!”
Chris put her hands over her mouth and Johan looked suddenly nervous. Chris swallowed and held out her hand with tears streaming down her cheeks.
“Of course I will,” she whispered. The schoolchildren cheered.
Johan grinned at them and gave them the thumbs-up, which prompted even louder cheering and applause until they slowly dispersed. He fumbled with the ring before he managed to slip it on to Chris’s outstretched finger.
“I love you,” she murmured, pulling him to his feet and kissing him.
Faye found a suitable café on Götgatan called Muggen, ordered coffee, opened her laptop, and connected to the Wi-Fi. She’d downloaded a VPN app to keep her IP address hidden and impossible to trace. She inserted the USB memory stick where she had arranged everything she had found in Jack’s Gmail account, and looked through the material. She had organized it clearly and logically, a dream haul for any ambitious business reporter.
Faye had picked out a young journalist called Magdalena Jonsson at Dagens Industri. Faye had had her eye on her for a while. She was sharp, thorough, and she wrote well.
There’s more if you’re interested, she typed, and pressed send.
As simple as that. She was getting ready to leave when her inbox pinged.
Can we meet?
Faye thought for a moment. She was aware that reporters were careful to protect their sources, they were their most valuable assets. But at the same time they were only human. One loose word when they were drunk, a mislaid mobile, a confidential conversation with a boyfriend and everything would get out. She couldn’t take the risk. Not yet.
No. Let me know if you’d like more.
The answer came instantly.
Okay, thanks! I need to get our experts to check the authenticity, so it might take a few days, but this is incredible—if it’s true . . .
It is, she typed, then closed her laptop and left the café.
—
The front-page headline in Dagens Industri read: COMPARE CEO JACK ADELHEIM TOLD STAFF TO TARGET THE VULNERABLE AND ELDERLY. The article was accompanied by stills from the video Faye had sent Magdalena Jonsson.
Faye was drinking coffee at the island in the kitchen. The story of how Jack Adelheim, CEO of the recently IPOed Compare, encouraged his staff to lie to elderly customers to get their money was splashed across four pages. It included everything Faye had gathered from his emails and sent to Magdalena Jonsson, divided into juicy headlines. The most incriminating evidence was a video taken with a phone from the early days of Compare’s rise, and showed Jack instructing his staff at an internal sales conference in no uncertain terms to sell anything they could to “oldsters,” using whatever means necessary. Results were the only thing that mattered. The video ran for ten minutes, ten minutes that completely destroyed Jack’s moral credibility as a business leader. The film was the smoking gun that Faye had been hoping to find in his Gmail. The rest was merely the icing on the cake. The video alone would have been enough to sink Jack. And inflict serious damage on Compare. She had seen it before, and had been counting on the fact that he was arrogant enough to have saved it.
Now all she had to do was wait to see how much damage she had done. She was worried it wasn’t going to be enough. The world was a cynical place. The media, the public, the business community—they were all very fickle. And self-interest was always the guiding principle. All she had been able to do was lay out the evidence.
Faye read on. Hungrily, greedily, full of schadenfreude. With a flutter of happiness in her chest at the realization that Jack was now the prey, the vulnerable one.
To her relief, the media were merciless. The angle Dagens Industri had taken was clear and consistent. Politicians, local councillors, relatives of the elderly customers who had been tricked—they all spoke out in the article. One of DI’s columnists called it the worst scandal of the past decade and declared that it was now impossible for Jack Adelheim to remain in his position. Faye read on eagerly. When she had finished she checked Aftonbladet, Expressen, and Dagens Nyheter. All three had the story as the lead article on their websites, with clips from the film. Aftonbladet even devoted its morning broadcast to a discussion of what the revelations might mean for Compare and its share value. They were competing with one another to seek out the harshest condemnation from the most heavyweight names. And the public joined in. How dare Jack? How dare Compare?
Faye tried to visualize Jack. What was he doing now? How would he react? Would he follow the advice of his critics and resign to save Compare and stop the share price from sinking any lower?
Maybe. If he felt sufficiently panicky, sufficiently skewered. With his background, he was more sensitive to public approbation than anything else. The heavy, damp burden of shame from his childhood might make him simply drop everything and run. That mustn’t happen. That would go against everything she had planned. She had to encourage him to go into battle, to fight to the last to cling on. Massage his ego, tell him no one was better able to save and lead Compare than he was. She didn’t think it would be particularly difficult. She knew exactly which buttons she needed to press.
She called Kerstin, who had gone in to the office early.
“Have you seen?”
“I’m reading it now. It’s incredible. They’re really going for it. Better than expected.”
“I know. What . . . what do you think I should do?”
“Lie low. He’ll come to you.”
“You think so?”
“No, sweetheart, I know. In times of crisis we turn to people who can validate us. When Jack needs validation he comes to you. He’ll ask for your advice. He’s always needed you. He just hasn’t had the sense to realize it.”
“What’s happened to the shares?”
Faye heard Kerstin tap at her computer.
“They’re down from ninety-seven kronor to eighty-two since the market opened.”
She cleared her throat. It was a big fall, but still a long way from her target. If they fell below fifty kronor she would instruct her stockbroker on the Isle of Man to buy every share he could get his hands on. That would probably be enough to give her a majority.
Jack and Henrik owned forty percent of Compare. They had needed a lot of investors at the start, and the investors had bought shares in the company. Jack and Henrik had made a big deal of the fact the people buying shares had the same vision for the business as them. But the fact that the two of them didn’t have a majority made them vulnerable. As she had pointed out on many occasions. In vain.
“There’s a way to go yet,” she said.
“Don’t worry. It’s going to work. It might take a few days, but the more unhappy everyone gets with Jack, and the worse he handles it, the lower the share price will sink. All you have to do is persuade him to cling on, that it will all blow over.”
“I’ll try,” Faye said.
A brief silence followed.
“When are you coming into the office?” Kerstin asked.
“I’m probably not coming in today, Chris needs me.”
“Go
to Chris,” Kerstin said. “I’ll hold the fort here.”
—
Chris’s doorbell echoed shrilly in the stairwell. Faye hadn’t called ahead to say she’d be coming—she hardly ever did. Chris’s door was always open for her, she still had her own key. She waited and listened. After a while she heard slow footsteps inside the apartment, the lock clicked, and the door swung open.
Chris looked tired. Her face was gray and she had big, dark bags under her eyes. When she saw it was Faye her face cracked into a weary smile.
“Oh, it’s you. I thought it was a burglar.”
“And yet you opened the door.”
“I needed someone to take my frustration out on,” Chris said as she bent down to unlock the white metal grille.
“Poor burglars. They wouldn’t stand a chance. Have you eaten anything?”
“Not since yesterday. I haven’t got any appetite, I don’t even feel like drinking champagne. That gives you some idea of how bad it is. I was thinking of asking the hospital if I can take it intravenously instead.”
Chris lay down on the sofa while Faye made coffee and looked through the fridge and pantry for something to force into her. All she could come up with were two crispbreads with cod roe. Chris took a few bites before pushing the plate away with a grimace.
“The cod roe is Johan’s. I never liked it even when I was well.”
She wiped her mouth with a napkin.
“Why didn’t you say?” Faye said. “If you’d said you didn’t like it I’d have gotten you something else.”
Chris shrugged.
“The chemo seems to have killed my tastebuds. I thought that might mean I could actually eat the stuff. But not even chemo can get my tastebuds to accept it. I’ve tried telling Johan that it’s horrible, but he refuses to listen.”
“So what are your doctors saying?” Faye asked gently as she moved the plate.
“Do we have to talk about it?”
“No. But I’m worried.”
The Gilden Cage Page 24
