Fireraiser

by Torkil Damhaug

  – They’re threatening to get Synne, Karsten sobbed.

  – Shit, Adrian growled. – That is never going to happen, do you hear? Leave it to me.

  The anger in his voice was something to hold on to. Mustn’t let go, Karsten thought.

  – Can you call the police? he gasped.

  There was a pause before Adrian answered. – Let’s just wait. Got to keep a cool head here.

  – What shall I do? He said the four words over and over again.

  – The Pakis won’t go all the way out to your cabin, Adrian said. – Synne’s safe for the time being. And we’ll help you.

  – Where are you?

  – Not far from where we had the meeting. We’re in the woods. I’ll come and pick you up in two hours.

  – Hours? Karsten sobbed, unable to stop.

  – Go round to my place, said Adrian. – Make sure no one sees you. I’ll tell Elsa to let you in.

  As he dragged himself up from the footpath, into Strandgata and along in the direction of the open-air swimming pool, he was frozen to the bone. He cast an exhausted glance in both directions before opening the gates of the red-painted semi.

  Elsa opened the door even before he’d rung.

  – What do you look like!

  Karsten turned away, unable to meet her eyes. He’d messed himself and waded across a bog. Couldn’t even feel any shame. Not yet.

  – Adrian says you were attacked. Her voice was warm and friendly and calm. – I was thinking about you just today, she added.

  Impossible not to believe she meant it.

  – Adrian’s got some clothes here.

  Without waiting for him to respond, she disappeared into the cellar and came back up again with a pair of underpants, a T-shirt and a pair of old tracksuit bottoms.

  – These’ll have to do for the time being. What you need now is a shower.

  She opened a door just outside the kitchen, dug out some towels, which she put over the edge of the bathtub. Karsten went in, pulled off his stinking clothes and rolled them into a ball. Then he turned the water on full and huddled beneath the warm shower.

  Elsa came into the room with a bottle, poured him a glass. He’d never liked red wine, but now he took whatever he was given.

  She sat in the chair opposite and looked straight at him. She was wearing a red pullover. She was pretty. Suddenly she exclaimed, – Oh, but you’re bleeding! Let me have a look.

  He stood up, pulled up the T-shirt, which was stained a colour similar to that of the red wine. Blood oozed from the cut below his navel. It seemed deeper now than last time he’d looked. Elsa fetched some antiseptic and bandaging, dried it carefully. The blood had run down below the waistband of the trousers. – You won’t need any stitches, she noted. – But who would do a thing like this?

  – Some people. They’re after me.

  – Well that’s pretty obvious. Of course you don’t have to tell me what happened if you don’t want to.

  He did want to. He wanted to talk to her about everything that was troubling him. And suddenly he was telling her about Jasmeen, about the meeting at the library, about the accusation of abuse, about her wanting to come to his house. And that she came. He searched for the right words.

  – I’m a total idiot, he muttered. – No girl has ever been interested in me, not until now. And I screw the whole thing up.

  Elsa patted him on the arm. – Regretting isn’t going to do you much good, Karsten.

  He glanced over at her, her face, the dark red pullover. He felt distant, uneasy; he didn’t know what was going on. And in the middle of it all, this urge to say out loud how pretty she was.

  – What happens to me doesn’t really matter. It wasn’t exactly true, but it helped to say it. – The worst thing is, they’re threatening Synne.

  – Synne’s your little sister?

  He nodded. – If anything happens to her … He couldn’t think the thought through to the end. Tears welled up inside him and ran down his cheeks. He raised his head, wanted her to see them.

  – You’re a good boy, Karsten.

  – You don’t know me, he protested.

  – Oh, better than you think.

  He opened his mouth, couldn’t bring himself to say anything.

  – You’ve been showing up in my cards recently. Several times.

  Even that sounded right now. He wanted to show up in her cards. He wanted to credit her with possessing all those powers he would normally laugh at. With knowing things about him without anybody having told her, with knowing what was going to happen. He could have asked her to read to him, fairy tales even, as long as things made sense.

  – What happens when I show up in your cards?

  She took a sip of her drink, stood up. – I’ll show you.

  The room upstairs was bigger than he had imagined it. A table with a dark red cloth stood in the middle of the floor. The curtains, also red, were drawn, and the light came from a lamp in one corner. Smoke threaded its way up from two bowls on the table; that must be the source of the sweet smell that filled the house.

  She indicated for him to sit in a chair at the table, lit a candle, sat down opposite him. For a while she just looked at him. It felt natural for her to do so, not embarrassing the way it might have been in different circumstances.

  – Close your eyes, she ordered.

  He did as he was told.

  – First I want you to relax. You’ve had a frightening experience. Someone’s threatened to kill you. And they’ve threatened your sister, whom you love more than anyone else on earth.

  He nodded. What she said was right, though he’d never thought of it before.

  – Breathe in deeply, Karsten. Feel how the calm spreads through you. No matter what happens in your thoughts, none of it will happen to you in this room. You’re quite safe here, no one can harm you.

  I am safe with you, he thought, but then the sight of the three men was there again, and the voice saying what they did to men who raped.

  He had to open his eyes. She sat there with a deck of cards in her hand.

  – This is you, Karsten.

  The card she placed on the table had a picture of a knight riding over the crest of a hill. He was holding a sword in his hand.

  – The Jack of Swords. That is how I see you. And that is how Adrian sees you too, an intelligent young man. You are curious. And you are decent. A mind awakening. But you have this in you too.

  Beside the Jack she laid the picture of a figure, male or female, in a red cloak and with a light in his hand. Beneath it the words The Magician.

  – You are strong willed and creative. You already know that. But there’s something else here, something you’re keeping out.

  She pointed to a sign above the Magician’s head, a reclining figure eight, the mathematical symbol of infinity.

  – The Magician is the intermediary between the physical and the spiritual worlds. And you have this in you too.

  Only now did he begin to find it embarrassing to sit there. He wanted to get up.

  – Wait, she said, as if she knew what he was feeling. – There is more. Much more, and I want you to listen to at least some of it. It will help you. And it will help Synne.

  She continued to lay the cards, expounding the significance of them. It was as though the smells in the room became sweeter and stronger. He tried to concentrate, focusing on a couple of the images: a tower on fire with people leaping from the top; a man sitting sleepless in a bed, nine glinting swords hanging above him; a kind of clown dangling upside down from a tree. Elsa’s hands were pale, her fingers very thin. On three of them she wore rings with large stones in them.

  – You think too much, she said to him, and he couldn’t deny it.

  – Doesn’t everyone?

  She gave a brief laugh. One of her eye teeth was crooked and crossed slightly over its neighbour. Adrian had said she was a trained nurse. Did Adrian believe in these cards?

  – Just the fact that you are willi
ng to listen is enough, Karsten, she said. – I know you don’t take this completely seriously.

  That was true. What she actually said wasn’t important. He sat there and listened to the sound of her voice.

  – You will encounter trials. She pointed to the burning tower. – I think you wish for a profound change in your life.

  – I want everything to be just the way it used to be, he tried to protest.

  She held him with her gaze. – This is something much deeper. You will have to pay a price for this. It could be dangerous.

  He peered at the tower. A crudely drawn bolt of lightning struck the top of it.

  Suddenly a look of sadness came into her eyes. – I’m glad we’ve had this conversation, she said. – And I want you to know that you have people around you when you need them.

  Adrian started the car, swung out into the road.

  – And you hadn’t seen any of them before?

  Karsten shook his head. He could still hear the voice of the guy with the knife. The smell of him, the stench of raw meat mingled with perfume. He started to shake. It started in his stomach, spread to his arms; his legs went numb.

  – There were one or two others, he stammered. – They stayed in the car.

  – Doesn’t matter. We know who they are.

  – Synne, Karsten moaned. – Don’t care what happens to me, not really. But if they find her …

  – They won’t, Adrian assured him.

  – Not Mum and Dad either. I don’t want them to know anything about this.

  – Leave it to me.

  – That’s what you said last time.

  Adrian opened a bottle of fizzy water. When Karsten declined, he took a few swigs himself.

  – We miscalculated. It won’t happen again. Old Man Chadar has clearly left Junior in charge. You’re still sure you want to go home?

  – Where else could I go?

  Without slowing down, Adrian picked up his phone and punched in a number. – Are you operational? Someone at the other end answered before he continued: – They’re threatening to go after his little sister.

  To Karsten he said: – What’s your address?

  Karsten told him the name of the road; Adrian passed it on. – Brown villa, he added, – white stone basement. You’ve got Vemund and Sweaty with you. We’ll wait until we get the all-clear from you.

  He pulled in at the Statoil petrol station on Fetveien. Karsten huddled up in the passenger seat.

  – You’re not the only one who’s experienced something like this.

  – That’s not much comfort, Karsten complained.

  Adrian made a smacking sound with his lips. – So you think it helps if someone pats your cheek and says how sorry they are for you?

  Karsten didn’t respond.

  – Aren’t you angry? Adrian persisted.

  – I think I am.

  – Feel for it, look for it.

  He tried. – I think so, he said again.

  Adrian drank the rest of the water. – Comforting isn’t what you need. You need to learn to hit back. Open the glove compartment.

  Karsten pulled it open. He fumbled inside, found a charger for a phone, a service booklet and a hammer. Adrian glanced at the hammer, took it from him and slid it into the door pocket.

  – Keep looking.

  At the back of the compartment he found something that felt like a gun. He withdrew his hand.

  – You don’t drive round with a revolver in your car?

  – Revolver? Adrian grinned. – Of course not. That there’s a pistol. Take it out.

  Karsten did as he was told.

  – Is it real?

  Adrian laughed. – What would I want with a toy gun?

  – Dunno. Scare someone maybe. It’s not loaded, is it?

  – Twelve bullets in the chamber. Don’t wave it about like that. Have you used a weapon before?

  Karsten stared at the pistol. Something’s going to happen, he heard himself think. He said it over again, the exact same words. Something’s going to happen.

  – What you’ve got in your hand there is a Luger, Adrian informed him. – It has a story all its own.

  The pistol wasn’t heavy. Carefully Karsten squeezed his fingers around the nut-brown stock, jumped as a siren-like wail suddenly sounded from Adrian’s phone.

  – Black BMW?

  Again his whole body began to tremble.

  – They’re waiting for you outside your house, Adrian told him once he had ended the call.

  Karsten tensed the muscles of his arms in an attempt to control them, but it only made the shaking worse. – What do we do? he said through clenched teeth.

  – Good question. Let’s look at the options. One, go to the police. Put all your cards on the table.

  – Put my cards on the table? Karsten protested. – I haven’t done anything.

  – Depends which legal code you’re talking about. You’ve been groping one of their girls. They don’t care if it was consensual or not. You’ve taken something that wasn’t yours to take.

  – You were the one who said she could come round to my house.

  Adrian shrugged. – Your life, your choice. Did you fuck?

  – Not exactly, Karsten said weakly.

  – You sure?

  – Think I don’t even know?

  Adrian burst out laughing. – Tell me what happened, he said, leaning back in his seat.

  Hesitantly Karsten began to tell his story.

  – I don’t think your future Paki in-laws are going to care that much about what you didn’t do, Adrian said, interrupting.

  Karsten ignored the joke, gave him a few details, but still Adrian wanted to know more. Whereabouts in the house they undressed, what Jasmeen said, every little detail of what she did.

  When there was no more left to tell, he sat up straight. – Let’s try to look at this objectively. That’s what the police will do. You were attacked. What about the registration number of the car?

  – It was a black BMW, Karsten mumbled.

  – I know that. That won’t get you far.

  – There was that guy with a dog.

  Adrian bobbed his head from side to side a couple of times. – He might have seen you running off. Maybe saw the car. But how likely is he to have made a note of the number?

  Karsten lifted up the gun, stared dully at it.

  – That is the safety catch, said Adrian, pointing. – Leave it on, please. You interested in a couple of days hanging out with people who are willing to defend themselves?

  Karsten was suddenly alert. – Why do you ask?

  – You can come along with me to the next meet.

  – With that old nutcase?

  Adrian gestured with his hand. – Your choice.

  Karsten rubbed his forehead. In his mind’s eye he saw again the dark figure bending over him with a knife in its hand.

  – I can get you clearance, said Adrian. – But you will have to make up your mind. If you say yes, then there’s no way back.

  – And the people you’re calling, are they going to be at that meet too?

  – You can trust them. That’s what this is about now, Karsten. Being around people you can trust.

  – I can’t go anywhere like this. Karsten indicated the clothes he’d borrowed. He’d stuffed his own into a rubbish bin.

  – What do you need? Adrian wanted to know.

  He needed peace. He needed to get away, be on his own, maybe go out to the cabin. The idea that the Pakistanis might follow him out there loosed another avalanche of thoughts.

  – We’ll make sure you have what you need for the next couple of days.

  Karsten must have nodded, because Adrian punched in a number on his phone and gave their location. A few minutes later, a silver-grey Toyota pulled up behind them. There were three people inside. Someone jumped out and strode over to them. Karsten recognised him: the sturdy, muscular little guy with the bleached hair, the one who’d asked him all those questions in the kitchen
at Sæter’s. Seemed to remember his name was Kai.

  Adrian wound down his window.

  – You need to get inside the house and pick up a few things for Karsten. He’s coming back with us.

  – Hi, Karsten, the short guy nodded. – Got yourself a girl, I hear. He grinned. – What do you want us to fetch for you?

  Karsten resigned himself to it. Described where his room was, where in the chest of drawers to find clean boxers, jogging pants, socks. And his maths book, still lying on the kitchen table.

  – Maths book?

  – Do as he says, Kai, Adrian interrupted.

  The dogs began howling and carrying on as they turned into the farm. Saeter appeared and shouted at them, not that it had any noticeable effect.

  – The action go as planned? he asked as they climbed out of the car.

  – Yessir, said Adrian.

  Sæter shook his hand, as though congratulating him, and then it was Karsten’s turn. The squeeze, the gaze drilling into him.

  – We heard about the incident involving the Pashtuns.

  He was wearing brown corduroy trousers and a moss-green pullover and military boots. The thin grey-brown hair was combed back flat over his head.

  – That’s what I call the Pakistanis, he explained. – The Pashtuns are the group that most clearly show what we are up against. Tribal culture, honour, ruthlessness towards their enemies.

  He must have been out walking, Karsten thought. The bushy black eyebrows were soaking wet, and an enormous drip dangled from the tip of his nose.

  – There’s a lot we can learn from them, make no mistake about it. A lot of the things they believe in we once believed in too. But I gather you were attacked?

  Karsten glanced over at Adrian.

  – We talked about it after you called. It’s important that people know why you are here.

  – We’ll discuss it later this evening, said Sæter. – Perhaps you’ll share your experiences with us.

  Karsten felt his stomach writhe, like a worm jabbed by pins.

  – Perhaps, he managed to say.

  – Jolly good. Saeter cleared the drip from the tip of his nose as it was just about to fall. – I’m sure you’ll have heard this before, but I want to remind you that we see no reason to use surnames here. It’s safest for all. First names will suffice. Karsten, or whatever you decide you want to call yourself.