by Piotr Ryczko
“There is more than enough on this to put you in jail. Three times over. Or you can just pack and come back with me to your mother. And keep your mouth shut.” Viola’s tone hardened and made it clear these weren’t just empty threats.
“That thing? That won’t hold up in court for even five minutes. Or didn’t you see how vaguely it was worded? It could just as well be the PR launch of horse manure.”
“I wasn’t talking about the business plan,” Viola said and pressed a button that brought up the Dictaphone app that had been running in the background during the last four hours. Viola stopped the recording, then pressed play again. Marianne’s voice, clear and distinct, came through the cell phone’s speakers.
“And they will be my small shining starlets...” Marianne’s giggles trailed off and were stopped by Viola’s finger, which terminated the file and brought up a share button.
Marianne’s grin faded immediately as she heard this. But Viola had one more card to play. Her ace.
“If I push this, the file will be uploaded to our FTP server at Aftenposten. More than enough proof for tomorrow’s headlines. So, do you think I can convince you to go back home?” Viola asked with all the politeness she could muster.
This time her argument was met with silence. This was Viola’s best shot. Her only shot. So why did she feel so shaky inside?
Maybe because right this moment, she wasn’t sure what would happen if Marianne said no. This was a huge gamble, not only with this girl’s life, but everyone else at this place.
Chapter 41
Evening
Half an hour later, Magda and Viola watched as Marianne crammed her belongings into her makeup bag. The decade of planning that had gone down the drain was evident in the blogger’s face. So, she kept her mouth shut, and filled the bag with the few possessions she had left.
Viola had more than a few reasons to be happy. For the first time in two weeks, she had a good reason for hope.
And now, number one priority was to get the women and their children out of here. Then erase all the files on them. Viola knew she had to sever all the connections between the children and this place.
Yet at that moment, a blaring noise reached her ears.
Everyone raced to the window, the source of the sound, and Viola realised the noise originated from police sirens outside the clinic.
Her mind reeled in panic as she saw InviNordica was surrounded by a flurry of police cars, and a whole squad was preparing to enter.
* * *
The adrenaline exploded through her veins and scattered her mind into chaos. She lashed her head around, attempting to regain her much-needed balance. She needed to think. She needed a solution.
Things had happened faster than the speed of light. One moment the police were about to enter, and the next, she heard shouting, cries, and panic from all over the place.
The police had come in sheer force, two dozen men, specced out to the teeth. Maybe an ordinary sight in Paris or New York but hardly in Norway.
Viola couldn’t shake off the feeling she was in the middle of an international incident, involving fundamentalist extremists. But here she was, and the only danger she could think of was the crying of the innocent children caused by the police. Nobody was prepared to help anyone, much less the women and the children.
“Why the hell would you call them?” Viola hissed at Marianne, unloading all the blame on the girl, while her hand clutched onto Marianne’s arm. No matter how much Marianne assured her she would keep her mouth shut, Viola wouldn’t let go of her. If she desired to shine, Viola was more than prepared to fulfil her desire, handcuffed and dragged away by the police.
“Don’t you get it? With that recording, I would be crazy to call them.” The blogger threw out the same answer one last time. Up until now Viola’s mind refused to accept this. Yet this time, the words finally reached her.
She halted her body, swallowed a big breath, then re-focused. Maybe the girl wasn’t lying, maybe she was even right. Her calling the police just didn’t make any sense.
Then it struck Viola, something that should have been obvious from the get-go. Marianne was an egomaniac, but she was not stupid. She had vested her fortune, her body, and most of all, her offspring in gene-editing superstardom. No. Marianne wouldn’t do anything reckless to jeopardise her raving vision of the future.
But if there was one character who was just as prepared to pull the trigger on this place, and rattled enough in their brains to throw away everyone’s safety, Viola didn’t have to look farther than Marianne’s family.
“Damn your mother. Couldn’t she wait one more day?” Viola spat out at the woman, and immediately, as she voiced her conclusion, she knew that Stine’s lack of patience would cost everyone here dearly.
“Hey. Don’t blame me. She is the one who’s been threatening me to wrap up this whole charade. All these amateurish ideas with the recordings and whatnot, that was just to appease the old hag. To speed up the process. If she didn’t ride my back every day, I would have done this with some genuine flair.” Marianne defended herself and by the time she had finished, Viola noticed that the blogger already regretted what she had just said.
With the police about to blow the whole place wide open, and detain everybody on the premises, she had about ten minutes to do the impossible: get the women out of here, before the police seized them. But that wouldn’t be enough. She had to erase all the digital records that connected all the patients to this place. And for this, she needed Magda.
Without even realising it, her hand let go of the wriggling blogger. Viola’s eyes scanned along the hall, then homed in on a pair of hunched shoulders. It was Magda and she was about to disappear up the stairs and lock herself inside the clinic’s private section.
Evening
Viola ran after Magda and cut her off before the first biometric checkpoint. Two seconds later, the entrance would have been sealed off, and with it, Viola’s chances at a rescue plan.
She grabbed the woman but was met with a wrenching hostility as Magda’s eyes bulged with fear.
“Haven’t you done enough already? Leave me alone!” Magda spat out at Viola, then tried to shake her off. No matter the circumstances, Viola knew she couldn’t do that. Viola realised this raw emotion wasn’t so much about Magda. Rather it was about her dying son, hidden behind those doors. A helpless child who, in a few moments, would lose his mother. And Viola felt a pang of guilt. Here she was, stood in her way, preventing the last intimacy Magda was bound to have with her son.
She slid up to Magda’s face, tightened her arm, deadlocked her eyes, then whispered with maddening urgency.
“Please, I need to know where the files on the women are. The treatments, the diagnoses, everything digital. All of it!” Viola tried to reach Magda, while she kept scanning the corridor, aware that at any moment the cops would be filling this place.
While the words hit Magda, and with them Viola’s intention, the older woman was coming undone, unable to think straight, much less act.
“Since the trouble started, I’ve erased it all. The sensitive data, that is. Except on my laptop. Uh-huh. My office. First floor. No backups.” She digested the most crucial fact, and then grabbed Viola’s hand and shoved an ID-access card in her palm. As Viola eyed the card, she nodded with gratitude.
Magda twisted around, punched in the code, ran her finger through the bio-scanner. And as the doors slid apart, she looked at Viola one more time. She pressed her lips together.
“You know, you can still get away. It’s not too late. For you, that is.”
“Please... go to your son,” Viola said. As she disappeared behind the door, Viola eyed the ID-access card. Indeed, she could still run, she had all the means. This card would get her out. Maybe for once she should think of herself. Her own future.
Chapter 42
She had done the impossible. She had managed to avoid the clinic’s staff, she had gotten past the army of cops and even made it past their ra
bid dogs. But she had no idea that her biggest obstacle would be the women themselves.
Her body quivered with impatience as she faced a thuggish bunch: Rene, Katrine, Ingrid, and behind them, three more women, accompanied by bleary-eyed, toothless cries from their babies. Despite the barrage of confusion and fear on display, the women’s gazes were filled with a seldom-seen defiance.
One thing was certain, none of them had trusted Viola when she set foot in the clinic. And with the police storming the premises, scaring their children witless, this didn’t improve. On the contrary, it provoked wild speculation and suspicion. All of this was aimed at Viola, making her responsible for the current tragedy.
No matter how much she pleaded, none of them were prepared to hear her out.
Rene’s face was stretched into a sneer. After she had refused to help Viola at the toilet, her attitude hadn’t changed. She seemed ready to support any of Katrine’s decisions, no matter how ridiculous.
Katrine was the leader and brains behind this group. With gritted teeth and a warrior-like stance, she was ready to pulverise any arguments Viola might have. Whichever way the decision swayed, Viola knew it would be either through some kind of truce with this woman, or over her dead body.
But the worst was Ingrid, her posture beaten to a pulp, her eyes muddy and about to sign off for good. It was written all over her face, for this woman there was no tomorrow.
“In two minutes, the police will come through this door. And they won’t be asking questions.”
Her mind was racing in multiple directions at once, the approaching footsteps from the police, the barking dogs, all the possible escape routes, and the six women who were about to jump at her.
“So? This is crazy. What are we? Criminals?” Katrine hissed at Viola, and she knew instantly that this was a dead end. Unless she back-pedalled on her tactics, the cops would be carrying these women out, kicking and screaming. And if she didn’t do anything to soften up the leader of this pack, Katrine would sabotage everything.
“In their eyes, you will be.”
“Forget it! We are not going anywhere.” Katrine shouted at Viola, and this collected its fair share of support.
“Please? Damn... Okay. I ask you to consider only one thing: You’ve risked so much coming here. Having your babies. It took a helluva lot of guts. I admire you for that. I really do. But the moment these people come in through these doors, you will have to give up everything you have fought so hard for, including your kids.” Viola realised what she was saying, the implications for each of them were earth-shattering. But there was no way around it.
A murmur spread through the women. And suddenly Viola realised she was winning them over. One by one, they nodded their agreement. Each one giving Viola the necessary support. And not a second too late.
Still, one of them remained.
Viola’s eyes landed on Katrine.
“Listen to her? Back home we hear this shit every day. It’s all lies. Don’t you think you will only be making it worse by trying to run from the police? That’s like admitting to something you didn’t do. Our case is clean. Calm down, everybody. We are staying.”
“Stop,” an unfamiliar voice pierced through the murmurs. Everyone whipped up their heads, and a dozen eyes fell on the one person who hadn’t spoken a single word till now.
Ingrid.
The delicate girl was practically convulsing, barely able to handle the temper rippling beneath her skin. Yet she summoned enough spirit in her to make herself heard.
“You are all goddamned fools. Listen to Viola. How do you want to spend the next seven years raising up your children? Do you want to spend them in peace somewhere in the country? Or do you want to spend them in litigation hell, in courts while your kids are under child care services or being adopted? Do you want to face conviction? Lose everything? Including the most important thing, your kids?” And while she flailed at them, she drilled her eyes into each one of them, making sure she was heard.
Then she stepped towards Viola and stood behind her, showing her unwavering support.
Viola saw that Katrine wanted to fight back, oppose Ingrid, and ridicule them, but the words failed her. This time Viola felt a tinge of hope. Before anyone uttered a word, she felt half the battle was won.
And as one after the other stepped forward towards Viola, she realised they were about to put their lives in her hands.
Chapter 43
Her tears exposed something within her that still testified to her humanity. She wiped them away as quickly as possible.
Tony was oblivious to what was going on, at least that took away some of her pain. Lately, he was in no man’s land, too advanced in his condition to be lucid, yet still too strong to slip away for good. And she didn’t really know which one would be for the best.
As she heard the police bang on some distant door, about to blast into the room, she knew their time was up. And she realised, with an inevitable looming incarceration and endless legal battles and repercussions, her life was about to get a whole lot more complicated.
There remained one question, though. Would she go through this alone, or would she drag him further down with her? It all came down to one simple question: who was she doing it for?
Magda watched his twitchy fingers, and choked on her barbed breath, her throat as dry as the desert.
She had to stay. She doubted that she felt love for him. Guilt would be more appropriate. It hung around her neck, like a steel anchor that would eventually drown her.
The guilt had been the most consuming. Her companion for the last fourteen years. What was she thinking? Did she really think she could give birth to a healthy child? In her condition?
However much she sacrificed herself, however many hours she put in, nothing would erase the guilt. Reminding her that the only reason this boy existed was because she had fulfilled her own want. A thing which, she now reflected, wasn’t real, just a mirage.
* * *
Viola swiped the ID-card, and expected to be greeted by the opening of the balcony door. Yet the digital lock only burped back with discontent and refused to let her pass.
Viola cursed inside herself. This hadn’t gone to plan, but lately, nothing had.
She had scheduled to contact Pål, right after she entered the clinic. But when the staff confiscated her cell phone, Pål was left dangling outside without any reassurance she was fine or if they would proceed with their plan.
She wished he would still be outside, but maybe she just hoped for a miracle. This was asking a lot of him. Maybe too much. After all, the last time they saw each other was on Thursday, three days ago.
She had to face the facts, the most probable scenario was that Pål had left a long time ago, and even if she was successful in getting everybody out, there would be no one outside to help her.
Her quivering fingers swiped the card yet again, but the response was exactly the same. She slid her nose up to the digital read out, and eyed an error message that blinked in her face.
“System override. Silent alarm initiated.”
She whipped her head around, and tried to maintain as neutral an expression as she possibly could. She swept her eyes over the trembling faces, all of them lost, everyone looking to her for leadership, expecting her to provide an escape route. And not in half an hour, but the next two minutes.
What was she supposed to tell them, that she had been blowing hot air when she said she could help them? It was all for show. They might just as well return to their rooms, and wait like sheep for the cops to take them away. Made into some freak side show, then fed to the media, which would gorge on them, then vomit them up when they had served their purpose.
She eyed the kids, half of them already in tears and the rest silent enough to sink into a trauma.
As she realised this, something primal kicked inside. Wrenched at her. Told her she hadn’t come all this way to be stopped by a damned door in her way.
Viola searched the room and saw a chair. She
grabbed it, then smashed it with full force against the window. She expected a mountain of glass to come hurling towards her, but nothing happened. Not even a dent in the window.
She realised she needed something with more weight. Way more weight. But as she glanced around the room, there was nothing substantial enough. Either too small or too large, way too unwieldy to get anything done.
At the same time, she heard several shouts just outside the hall. The cops were rounding up all the patients. She had sixty seconds before they noticed the door to this room was locked.
There was no way around it, she knew she would have to do something desperate. When it flashed into her mind, she had no illusions about it; her idea of desperate was not only stupid, it was also dangerous. The sort of stuff done only in the movies. And this wasn’t the movies.
Viola nodded the women to the back of the room, stepped back herself, caught a gulp of breath, kicked back, then sprinted towards the balcony, and threw herself at the glass door.
At the moment of impact, she felt as if she crashed into a pool of water, although this surface wasn’t liquid. It had huge, sharp fangs, and many of them cut into her body. As she came blasting through the glass, she felt torn apart, her body convulsing into shock, even before she landed on the other side. And as if the countless glass pieces didn’t hurt enough, the balcony’s unwavering granite floor only confirmed this might be the last thing she would do.
Seconds later, her eyelids exploded open, and she felt as if several men had given her a brutal beating and were still kicking and bashing at her skull. Still, there was no time for minor details.
She eyed herself, and realised several small glass shards were pierced into her body. And as she pressed her body to the side, she wanted to bawl from agony. But she clenched her teeth, then hissed at herself to stay awake. To stay conscious. Alert. She couldn’t let them down. Not now.
Then suddenly, through the haze of pain, she saw a man down below. Someone racing towards her.
