Fireraiser

by Torkil Damhaug

  His father turned back to the TV screen.

  – She’s at that friend’s, over at Vigernes.

  – Tamara.

  – Right. Good for her to get out a bit. By the way, there was a boy here asking for you.

  – A boy?

  – It was Synne who spoke to him.

  Karsten closed the door. Ran up the stairs to his room. Called her. She didn’t answer. Called Adrian, got no answer there either. He ran down again, shoved his feet into his shoes and raced out the door without tying the laces.

  He pedalled as hard as he could over to Vigernes. Tamara lived in a semi-detached house just by the roundabout. He dropped the bike and ran up and down the road, looking out for the black BMW. Looking out for any car that might be waiting for him. Stood in the driveway. The rain had stopped. – Better calm down now, he instructed himself out loud. – Don’t do anything stupid. Stand here until things are under control, that’s the first thing.

  He rang the bell. No response. They were playing loud music inside, some heavy stuff. Not what Synne usually listened to. He charged in. The music was coming from a huge TV screen. There was a smell of freshly baked pizza. In the half-light he could make out three or four shapes. He found a switch and turned the light on.

  – Karsten, Synne cried as she got up from a chair.

  Tamara was on her feet too. She was dark and skinny, long legs and short skirt.

  – Has something happened? Synne said, crossing the floor. Karsten looked round. There were only girls in the room. Thirteen year olds eating pizza and crisps. One of them grabbed a bottle from the table and hid it on the floor beside the sofa.

  – No, nothing’s happened. I was just passing.

  – You want some? asked Tamara and turned down the TV. She held out a piece of pizza towards him.

  He waved no with his hands, pulled Synne outside into the hallway. She looked up at him. Distantly he registered that she was wearing make-up, far too much mascara; she looked like a stranger.

  – Dad said someone had been asking for me. What was his name?

  – He didn’t say. He was a Pakistani or something. Her mouth was full of chewing gum. She blew a bubble until it burst.

  – You sure?

  – He spoke a bit like say hi to your brother all right kid. She did the accent well and even added a little smile.

  – What did he look like?

  She described him. Suit and shirt, earring, thin strip of beard, the kind you could rub out with an eraser, according to her.

  – Was he alone?

  She shook her head, chewing and chewing. He felt like pulling the gum out of her mouth and throwing it at the wall.

  – There were some others sitting in a car out on the road.

  – What kind of car?

  – Black. Pretty cool.

  – Did he frighten you?

  – Not in the slightest. She blew another gum bubble that burst and stuck to her lips. – Cool guy actually.

  He went right up close to her and grabbed her by the arm. – Now listen, Synne, listen properly.

  – What’s up with you?

  – There are certain people out there you shouldn’t talk to.

  – Thought he was one of your pals.

  – He’s no pal of mine. So if he or any other Pakistani stops you, just keep on walking and pretend you didn’t hear.

  – Turned into a racist, have you?

  He let go of her. – Just be careful, he said. – Be careful and look out for yourself. And one more thing. Not a word to Mum and Dad about me coming round here. I’ll explain later.

  She looked at him with large round eyes. Then she nodded. She liked secrets.

  – Be sure to keep the doors locked, okay? If someone comes to the door, check who it is before you open it. And call me if someone you don’t know wants to come in, understand? I’ll be back in a couple of hours.

  A sly look came into her eyes, as though at any moment she was about to burst out laughing.

  – I can call Adrian, she said. – He rang me not long ago.

  – He rang you?

  – He was trying to get hold of you but you didn’t pick up.

  He thought about it. She was always lying about stuff like that. He would never understand what went on in that head of hers.

  He tried Adrian’s number again. Still no answer. It was now seven thirty. He pedalled down Storgata. It was Maundy Thursday, not many people about. A car approached from behind, passed slowly by, a silver-grey Toyota. There were two people inside, could be Vemund and Sweaty. He braked sharply. The car drove on, then pulled in alongside the kerb and stopped. Karsten whirled the bike round, down a side street, then a right. Back on Storgata there was no sign of the Toyota.

  At that moment he saw Priest emerging from Pizza House carrying five or six pizza cartons. Karsten turned, pretending not to have seen him.

  – Is that you out at this hour? Priest came over towards him. – Tonje’s been asking about you, he winked. – You two got something going on I don’t know about?

  A few minutes later Karsten was being ushered into the living room at the rectory.

  – Look what I found! Priest shouted. – A real live genius.

  Inga squealed with delight when she saw him. There were eight or ten others there, some from the school leavers’ party committee, a couple of others from class. Some of them cheered and gave him the Mexican wave. No sign of Tonje.

  – The lad’s drifting around Lillestrøm all on his own. Has no one told him how dangerous it is?

  – Good job we’ve got you, Priest.

  Priest slung the pizza cartons on to the table. – And I’m not being the driver again until July. He grabbed a can of beer, took a swig, handed it to Karsten.

  Karsten shook his head.

  – A smart guy like him doesn’t want to be swapping germs with you, said Inga, picking up one that hadn’t been opened. A little shower hit Karsten in the face as she released the ring pull and held the can up to his mouth.

  – Where’s Tonje? he asked after taking a swallow.

  Inga shrugged. – Somewhere or other with Thomas.

  That was how it was. It had always been Tonje and Thomas. A break every now and then. Before she started sending messages pretending there was something she wanted. And then it was back to her boyfriend.

  Karsten took the beer can that was offered him again, drained it down. Now I’m going to puke, he thought. Instead he belched, and there was more cheering. Inga put an arm round him.

  – I wanna be kissed by you, she sang hoarsely and pulled him into a few unsteady dance steps.

  – Think you’re going to lose your virginity tonight, Karsten, Priest grinned.

  – Inga too, said someone on the sofa, followed by a short burst of laughter.

  The music was turned up, some techno stuff. Karsten managed another couple of swigs of beer, and since Inga refused to let go of him, he put his arm around her. Suddenly he bent down and kissed her on the neck. She gave a start and looked at him, eyes wide in surprise.

  – What’s got into you?

  He let go of her and turned away. Priest was standing at the table slicing up the pizzas with a pair of nail scissors.

  – To operate on a pizza in a fair and just world requires surgical precision, he announced. – No one is to get one piece of corn more than anyone else.

  Karsten forced the rest of the beer down, the bubbles from the bitter liquid rising to his head and fizzing there. Not the bubbles themselves, of course, he reasoned; the ethanol released certain transmitter substances, dopamine among them, in those parts of the brain that controlled the sensation of well-being. He felt lighter, as though he was full of helium, and if he floated any higher he would be able to observe everything from above. Call Synne every half-hour, he decided, telling himself that he was already seeing things more clearly. He had landed in something that resembled a labyrinth. If he could get a bird’s eye view, it would be easier to find the way out.


  – Got another beer? he asked Priest.

  – Dear Brother Karsten. Have I ever stood by and watched a fellow human being suffer?

  He went out into the kitchen, returned with a can.

  – Let me know if you want something stronger. Or faster acting.

  – You said Tonje was here.

  – She’s bound to turn up.

  – You say you’ve got something stronger?

  Priest grinned broadly. – That’s my boy.

  He put an arm around Karsten and led him out into the kitchen. He took a bottle from a cupboard next to the fridge.

  – This is a special occasion. An experiment. What happens when the genius takes a drink? Does he become even more of a genius, or more like the rest of us? I’m certain my dad would be prepared to donate some of his cognac in the name of a scientific experiment.

  It burnt in his mouth, but Karsten liked the sensation, a flash of light that travelled up from his palate to the back of his head. And when he swallowed, that burning sensation moved down into his stomach and drowned whatever it was that for more than a week now had been crawling around like an earwig.

  – You know what, Karsten, you’ve always been a helluva good lad. I love you, and that’s the truth of it. Priest embraced him. – Cheers, Brother Karsten.

  They emptied their glasses. Karsten gasped for breath but did not protest when his was again filled to the brim.

  – You and me, we’ll bloody show them, Priest chortled, and kissed him on the cheek. – Together we are invincible.

  Karsten took his phone out of his jacket pocket. – Have to call my sister.

  Synne answered straight away. – No, no one’s been here. No, I’m not afraid of Pakistanis. Relax. See you.

  – I can’t let anything happen to her, he said to Priest as he forced down more of the cognac. – The police are after me, he added once he had recovered.

  Priest gave him a sidelong glance. Then he grinned. – Sure, brother, I’ll take care of them if they show up.

  – The police and a Pakistani gang, Karsten went on. – And Schrödinger and Heisenberg.

  Priest frowned and stopped smiling. – That bad, eh?

  Then Inga was there.

  – Sorry about just then, she said. – You took me by surprise.

  She gave him a hug. He squeezed her tight, pressing against her until her breasts flattened across his chest.

  – I’m going to die, he shouted into her ear.

  It looked like she was making an effort to look straight at him, her eyes swimming round in a great lake. Unless it was his own that refused to keep still.

  – Hi, Karsten, said Tonje.

  He broke free and turned. She was standing in the doorway.

  – Tonje, he murmured, and took a few steps in her direction. And then it hit him. Not some vague nausea slowly spreading through his belly, but a fierce clawing that seized his stomach and twisted it tight. With no warning, it jetted out of him, splashing down across the carpet and the table. Although actually not that much ended up on the carpet and table. Something in the region of seventy per cent of it hit Tonje.

  Afterwards, with a mixture of swearing and laughing and groans of exasperation, he lay on the floor with a cloth in his hand and tried to wipe up the remains of the contents of his own stomach. That’s what I’m like inside, he thought or said out loud. Half-digested food and drinks he couldn’t tolerate and would never be able to tolerate, masticated in hydrochloric acid.

  Later, he’s lying on a sofa, in a basement room. Someone is sitting there with him. – Tonje, he says out into the semi-darkness, but it isn’t her. A phone rings. After a while he realises that it’s his own, but he can’t find it. Not until he pushes his whole hand into the hole in the lining of his jacket. By the time he retrieves it, the ringing has stopped. Synne, he babbles, and sits up in the room that is now in darkness. Supposed to be looking after her, and I can’t even stand on my own two feet. Somehow or other he manages to reach the number of the caller.

  – Kai.

  – Kai! shouted Karsten, trying to remember who Kai was.

  – Where are you?

  He looked around the basement room.

  – Lillestrøm, he slurred.

  – Are you drunk?

  Karsten had to concede that he was. Pissed, stoned, sloshed, as they used to say when his dad was a schoolboy. Rat legged, tight, tipsy and tanked.

  – You having fun?

  – Dunno.

  Karsten thought he might start to laugh. Or just as easily the opposite. Sort of perfectly poised between the two. – I don’t think it’s fun. On a scale from one to ten, I’m minus nine. Are you having fun?

  – Tell me where you are and stay there. I’ll pick you up.

  – The station, he managed to say before the call was terminated.

  He opened the window, pulled himself up and out through a window well. Staggered through a garden that must belong to the rectory, over a fence, into another garden, finally ended up on a road. Tried to walk straight but it was impossible; all kinds of forces, centrifugal and centripetal and gravitational, pulled in different directions. The sum of these forces had to be controlled, and he was in no condition to do so. In his stockinged feet with his shirt hanging out he stumbled along the road beside the railway line, a dark stain covering one thigh of his trousers. – There’s a walkway under the road here somewhere, he muttered. – I’m walking towards the walkway.

  Kai looked him over as he climbed into the car.

  – Not good.

  He pulled out of the station, drove in the direction of Volla. The engine growled and sounded annoyed as well.

  – We must find Synne, Karsten slurred.

  – Who is Synne?

  He struggled to make himself understood. Certain consonants were impossible to articulate after each other. They responded as though they had opposing magnetic charges. Others were sticky and glued up against each other.

  – We’ll drive by, Kai interrupted. – But perhaps best not to let your little sister see you like this.

  Karsten nodded and nodded. Kai was a four-square block of muscle, as well as being the most sensible man in the world.

  – You’re fucking all right, he tried to say, just as his stomach lurched again. He fumbled with a handle that might open the window before it was too late.

  – Do not touch that!

  Karsten forced the contents of his stomach back down again.

  – It don’t work, Kai barked.

  Karsten raised his hands to show that he had no intention of touching anything else in the car.

  – The winder mechanism is kaput. Been trying to get a new one for weeks. Kai said something or other about cables and wires. – And you probably think all you have to do is knock on the door of your local Chevy dealer and ask for a new one.

  Karsten didn’t know whether he was being asked a question, but he nodded to be on the safe side, and Kai carried on talking. That was fine by him; he could alternately grunt and nod without understanding a word of what this sudden outpouring was actually about. He gathered it had something to do with European winder mechanisms. That they stopped and slipped back down if you so much as breathed on them, so that kids wouldn’t suffocate. Whereas in America the motors were as strong as horses and unstoppable, and looking after people’s kids wasn’t the responsibility of the car manufacturer.

  Kai carried on in this vein all the while they cruised around the block where Tamara lived. There was still light on in all the windows. Karsten counted them and thought he’d worked out which was the right apartment. But even the simple addition involved in this process was tricky, as he sat there gripping on to the seat of the Chevy and trying not to puke.

  – It all looks peaceful, said Kai.

  – Got to talk to her.

  Karsten tried to climb out, felt a blow on his arm.

  – Remember what I said about messing around with that door?

  – Sorry, Karsten muttered,
again raising his hands to indicate his unconditional surrender.

  Kai pulled in by the roadside. – Sit here and don’t play with anything. He got out and walked over to the driveway.

  Karsten couldn’t keep his eyes open. Slumped down and landed on a ship’s deck that rose and fell, and he had no business being at sea at all.

  – Everything okay there, Kai announced as he slammed the door behind him. – I’ve called Vemund. He’ll take care of it. Now we’ve got to get you up on your feet. We’ve got a couple of hours.

  – What’s happening?

  Kai didn’t answer. They crossed Storgata and carried on past the school. Shortly afterwards, they pulled into Adrian’s courtyard, stopped next to the garage.

  Karsten got out. Staggered towards Adrian’s front door.

  – Not there, Kai shouted behind him. – Adrian’s not back yet.

  Karsten looked around in confusion. When Kai unlocked the other front door, he followed him in.

  – No need to take off your shoes. Kai grinned as he let him into the hall.

  Karsten looked down. – Where are my shoes?

  Kai shrugged. – Maybe you gave them to the Salvation Army. Or they’ve wandered off somewhere on their own. Can you manage to get up the stairs?

  Karsten started on the bottom step, slumped against the wall. – A bit slippery, he tried to excuse himself.

  Kai leaned down and lifted him, carried him upstairs. On the landing he opened the door to a bathroom, put Karsten down on the toilet seat.

  – Take off your Sunday best. You need a shower.

  – Can’t hold it down any more, Karsten groaned, and slithered down on to the floor. Kai just had time to raise the lid before it came pouring out of him.

  Later, he sat in the bathtub with the shower jet directed on to his face. Fragments of the events of earlier that evening broke through. Tonje’s face as he walked towards her and his mouth suddenly gaped wide open. He rubbed the shower head against his forehead, tried to imagine the water forcing its way through the bones of the skull and flushing out everything inside, undoing the synapses that had been formed over the last few hours and days, from the moment when Jasmeen had appeared at his desk. Let everything he could recall since that day drain down through the plughole and disappear for ever. He saw in his mind’s eye the gravestone penetrated by the cylinder. A fitting memorial for the time that was to be buried.