The badger, p.14
The Badger, page 14
“Too right you shall have your man cave,” she said, giving him a kiss. “You shall have all that you want.”
32
TUESDAY 31 MAY
The answer is as simple as it’s scary. I didn’t choose them. They chose me. Now I have no other choice but to continue. There is nothing left for me above ground.
The corridor outside the coffee room was echoing with laughter. When Annika went in for afternoon coffee, Katrin turned around, holding up a small, oblong biscuit topped with pearl sugar. Her cheeks were glowing. “What’s your take on these?” she said, struggling not to giggle.
“Shortbread fingers?” said Annika, smiling. “Are they even that nice?”
“Seems we all take a slightly different view,” said Katrin, giggling. “Shortbread fingers, hit or miss?”
Annika poured some coffee. “I don’t know. Might be a bit grumpy old men’s club?”
Katrin was whooping with laughter. Annika was worried she wouldn’t be able to breathe.
“Now hold on,” said Tobias Rönn, opening his hands wide. “Grumpy old men’s club?”
“Yes, aren’t they though?” said Annika. “A dry biscuit tasting mostly of flour. A cup of lukewarm coffee on the side. Very grumpy old men’s club.”
“They are that,” said Katrin, wiping her tears with one hand. Little bits of her mascara had formed clumps in the corners of her eyes.
Annika took the biscuit out of Katrin’s hand and swallowed it in one bite. “Delicious, though.”
I knew it,” said Tobias. “Dry biscuits win hands down every time.”
“No, they don’t,” said Annika, shaking her head. “Nothing beats light sponge cake.”
“Which one of you was on about grumpy old men’s club?” said Tobias. “Nothing says grumpy old men’s club more than sponge cake does.”
Annika swallowed the last bits of biscuit with a swig of coffee. The drink had a sourness to it, bitter almonds meeting Löfbergs medium roast. She pulled a face and sat down opposite Katrin. She would stick to tea from now on.
“Don’t you lot really have anything better to talk about than this?” She was watching for a reaction from Tobias. He shook his head, drinking from his white Moomin mug with Snufkin on it. Annika had bought it him for his birthday as a joke about his character. It had evidently gone down well because he hadn’t used any other mug since.
“I’m knackered,” said Katrin. “Been going through half of that YA manuscript you liked.”
“Okay,” said Annika. “So, what do you think of it?”
“Truthfully? I think it has something, but you have no idea how much editing’s going to be needed.”
“Oh, I do. It’s a debut author. What did you expect?”
Thanks to I am the Badger and the earlier Turwall books recapturing the bestseller lists, they had weathered the crisis, increased turnover and set the conditions for future growth. But without fresh material, they would soon be back on the brink of collapse. Fortunately, the company’s profile had been raised in people’s minds and more manuscripts than ever were coming in. As usual, most of them weren’t good enough to be published, but all things considered, their quality had still seen an improvement.
“Has anyone heard anything from Jesper?” said Annika.
They looked at one another in silence. Jesper had been on sick leave with chronic fatigue syndrome since I am the Badger had come in to them.
“I hope he’ll be on the mend again soon,” said Katrin.
The thought that it mightn’t simply be coincidence that Jesper happened to take sick leave at the very time they published I am the Badger sprung to Annika’s mind. A knot was expanding in her gut. She had been under quite a lot of pressure lately and so far no one else apart from Martin knew anything of her pregnancy. She had to be careful she wouldn’t find herself in the same position as Jesper was. Perhaps she should talk to him when she had the chance.
“Someone asked me an interesting question this morning,” said Tobias, changing the subject. “An agent representing several big names was wondering if we were interested in any of them.”
“Are they unhappy with their current publishers?” asked Rebecka.
“Apparently so. Though there are a lot of good things happening now.”
“You could say that,” said Annika. She put her coffee cup to one side. Deep down she secretly wondered when her phone would ring with someone trying to poach her for one of the larger publishing houses. It wasn’t unimaginable after all, especially with the way things were now. She contemplated what her response would be in that situation.
Tobias shot Katrin a look. “I still can’t get over that grumpy old men’s club stuff,” he said.
Katrin laughed again. Her laughter was infectious and Annika couldn’t help laughing herself either.
Fredrik Ask emerged at the door. He looked at Annika. “Could I just borrow you for a minute?”
“Yes, of course. What is it?”
“Come into my office,” he said and left.
“That sounded serious,” said Katrin.
“Best I go, then,” said Annika, pulling a funny face that was meant to imitate Fredrik’s long and serious one.
Fredrik was sitting at his computer when she arrived. “Ah, excellent,” he said. “They want an answer right away.”
“Sorry, who wants an answer?” said Annika.
Frederik appeared stressed. There was an uneasy energy in the room which Annika didn’t like.
“Television’s Discussion Point has invited the chair of the Association of Relatives of the Victims of the Badger into their studio. They want someone from Eklund alongside too. You did a brilliant job on the daytime television circuit, so I can’t imagine anyone better placed.”
A rush of adrenaline shot up Annika’s body. She managed to close the door behind her and propped herself against the handle to ensure no one would be able to come in.
“No,” she said. “I am sorry, Fredrik, but there I draw the line.”
She barely recognised herself. But this, she just couldn’t do.
Fredrik pursed his lips. Annika had seen his look of disapproval often enough to understand that he wasn’t satisfied with her response.
“I don’t understand,” he said. “How can this be worse than the other interviews?”
“It’s Discussion Point and it’s on national television. It’s a completely different matter. They will confront me with that chairman, demanding tit for tat.”
Fredrik nodded slowly. “Really?” he said, shrugging his shoulders unsympathetically.
Every fibre in Annika’s body was objecting.
“A show with relatives of the Badger’s victims,” she said, catching Fredrik’s steely gaze. “That doesn’t make you the least bit uncomfortable?”
“No, it doesn’t,” said Fredrik. He straightened his back and raised his eyebrows. “And quite frankly, I don’t understand why you’re reacting so strongly. Don’t forget you were the one fighting for us to publish the book.”
This took Annika’s breath away. How could he use the power of her own conviction against her? He was supposed to support her, listen to her. Not throw her to the wolves.
“That was all about saving the company. But standing face to face with people who have lost their loves ones to the Badger? How am I supposed to get through that?” I am pregnant, she thought, but didn’t say it out loud. It was still early days.
“You might have wanted to think about that earlier,” said Fredrik. “Now we are where we are. The book is out. The readers love it, but those who have suffered as a result of the Badger’s crimes have the right to be aggrieved.” He held out a hand to prevent Annika from interrupting him. “For Christ’s sake, Annika, we sold it on the strength that it would affect people. We have to deal with the consequences in a professional manner.”
Annika looked at her watch. She would have to leave soon if she wasn’t going to be late for her next appointment. She was supposed to be meeting Martin at Emma Sievert’s office to sign the contract of sale on the house.
The house they were going to buy with the money Apelgren’s book had made them.
Deep down she was ashamed of not wanting to take part in the show, but didn’t have enough strength to admit it. She didn’t want to go head to head with the people who had been hurt by her choice to publish I am the Badger. Just as she had killed Jan Apelgren in a sense. She took a deep breath so she could respond cool and calmly. “Of course we have to,” she said. “But I just wonder if it wouldn’t be better if someone other than me did this show.”
“I can’t see how anyone other than you could do it,” said Fredrik. He propped his elbows on the desk in front of him, interlaced his fingers and looked at her across his knuckles. “After all, you were in charge of its publication.”
“Why don’t you take this one yourself?” she said, moving her hand out to Fredrik. “If protecting the company’s good name is that important, why aren’t you doing it?”
Fredrik nearly fell off his chair. He looked genuinely affronted. “Because it’s your job as publisher to stand by what is published by Eklund Press.”
“And if I refuse?”
Fredrik clenched his jaws together and shook his head. “I obviously can’t force you. But if you want to have a future here, then it’s probably best you show willing.”
Annika looked down at the floor while she tried to process the implication of what Fredrik had just said. Everything she fought for would be in vain if she didn’t show up for the show at the television centre at Norra Älvstranden, on the city’s northern riverside.
“I understand,” she said.
33
TUESDAY 31 MAY
There is no light below ground. All sounds are subdued and muffled. I am hated and hunted. But I am never alone.
Annika was trembling with increased stress when she cut across Järntorget on her way to Emma Sieverts’s office. The uneven cobblestones along Haga Nygata slowed her down more than she wanted, but at the same time gave her chance to relax her thoughts, and every now and then she stopped off to peer into the window displays in some of the charming shopfronts. For almost a minute she paused to study the beautifully bound editions in one of the second-hand bookshops. Yet she couldn’t stop thinking about the television show, imagining how she would stand there, tongue-tied and bewildered, while the whole of Sweden watched on. Meanwhile, her concern for their child was growing inside her. How was her stress and anxiety going to affect the foetus?
She picked up her pace through Haga Park. Annika wasn’t religious, but walking in the shadow of the tall steeple of Haga Church, she couldn’t help but become aware of her own feeling of guilt. Would she soon have to pay the price for the success she had purchased with Apelgren’s life? She fought back her tears and made her way along Storgatan. Martin was waiting at the front entrance of the building to Emma Sieverts’s office.
“You look done in,” he said.
“Thanks, that was exactly the look I was going for.” Annika attempted to smile. It felt more like a grimace.
“Sorry.”
“You’re all right. I’m just tired, it’s been an absolute pig of a day. Being pregnant doesn’t exactly put a spring in your step.”
Martin turned to look at the heavy wooden door and quickly changed the subject. “So, this is where she hangs out?”
“Yep, this is the entrance up to Emma Sieverts’s swanky office. Complete with cat.”
“Cat?”
They rang the bell and pushed open the door as the lock buzzed. Their steps echoed along the staircase and a few moments later Annika found herself once more in the parlour-like reception room. Emma Sieverts welcomed them and shook both of their hands. Hers was warm and moist with hand cream.
Emma went ahead of them into her little galley kitchen and put some water on for tea. “Meanwhile, just make yourselves comfy on the sofa. The deed of transfer is on the table if you want to have a read, it’s quite straightforward.”
Annika sat back into the sofa while Martin took a look. She didn’t have the energy to try to make sense of any legal matters right now.
“It is really straightforward,” said Martin as he read a section. “The contract when I sold my apartment was more than twice as long and this one relates to a whole house.”
Emma returned carrying a tray. In the middle was an old-fashioned floral teapot with three unmatching cups on large saucers all around it. “I don’t feel the need for the same pointless formulaic language that the estate agents hold with,” she said, pouring Annika some reddish brown tea. “Everything that needs to be there is included, naturally. I’ve skipped over the rest.”
Martin presented the paper to Emma. “There are no guarantees. Should this be the case?”
“That’s the way it has to be, I’m afraid,” said Emma. “Though that’s not strictly true, either, if you look at page two.”
“I don’t understand,” said Martin.
“I don’t know anything about the property,” said Emma. “I’m only the executor of the will regarding the estate. All I do is sell on the assets as set out in Jan Apelgren’s will. Therefore, of course, I can’t guarantee anything, any more than that the estate owns it. You are at liberty to have a customary survey carried out by a property surveyor before taking possession. Conversely, you can take possession at any time and I don’t require a deposit.”
“What does it say on page two?” said Annika.
“Oh, it’s about the downstairs living space. It’s a transfer of any guarantees the contractors have put in place for the work carried out. Should there be anything wrong with their work, you may require them.”
“That’s reasonable,” said Martin.
“And you can pull out of the whole business if the surveyor comes up with something you don’t like,” Emma Sieverts added.
Martin shrugged. “It works for me.”
“Well, then,” said Emma Sieverts. “All you need is do is just sign.”
She gave Martin a fountain pen. Martin studied it with some hesitation.
“Just hold it like so,” said Emma, twisting the pen between his fingertips. “They’re so much nicer to write with than those ballpoint pens, once you’ve got used to it and found the correct angle.”
Martin placed the tip of the pen on the contract and slowly began signing his name. The sound of the sharp tip grated on Annika’s ears. She squirmed on the sofa and took the pen away from Martin. Her hand was trembling when it came to her turn to sign. The tip reminded her of a claw, lightly stained with blue ink that could have been red blood. A shooting sensation spread up through her fingers like an electric shock. She lost hold of the pen and it fell to the floor. The ink splattered out of the tip, staining the carpet.
“Sorry,” the word just popped out of her mouth. “I don’t know what the matter is. It just fell out of my hand.”
“Hey, are you okay?” said Martin as he stooped down for the pen.
Annika encountered Sugar’s green eyes. The cat was lying under the sofa, observing her. It was slowly drawing its claws across the carpet. A sharp claw went through, grating against the parquet. The animal bared its teeth and spat.
“Sugar,” said Emma. “What are you doing down there?”
“I must have scared her.”
The cat shot her one final glance and darted out of its hiding place, away to the kitchen. Annika quickly signed her name on the contract and set it alongside the pen on the table.
“There you go,” said Emma. “You’ve both purchased a house.”
34
THURSDAY 2 JUNE
Above the beats of my own heart I can hear the creatures letting out gurgling roars like diesel engines under the ground. The sound gets carried along as vibrations.
It was a few minutes past ten at night. Cecilia Wreede was in the bathroom and was just about to pick up her toothbrush when the telephone buzzed in the room next door. She shook her head, pretending not to hear, but it showed no sign of stopping. She placed her toothbrush on the shiny porcelain basin and was taken aback when she saw it was Jonas calling. What did he want at such an hour? Had he come across something in the investigation?
“Are you watching Discussion Point?” said Jonas. He was talking faster than normal.
“No, I can’t be doing with that sort of rubbish,” said Cecilia.
“You won’t want to miss this.”
Cecilia switched her television on. “What’s it all about?” she said as the image lit up the darkness of her living room.
“Your mate Christoffer Olsson is on, discussing the Badger book with its publisher.”
“No kidding?” said Cecilia. “Hold on, don’t move.”
The full screen image was of an oval standing table, with a seated studio audience in a gallery all around. At one end of the table was Christoffer Olsson. He looked like a giant, the burgundy tabletop level with his belt buckle. He was pointing with his whole hand to a woman of average height, whose dark red hair was arranged in a hair-slide, wearing a bright red blazer. Between them both was the television presenter holding a bundle of flashcards, nodding with great animation.
Cecilia had come in mid-sentence, it was no use trying to gather what Christoffer was saying. But it was obvious he was making an effort to keep calm. She had seen it before. His neck was flushed and the veins in his temples were glowing blue through his skin despite the layer of beige make-up.
The presenter interrupted Christoffer with a flick of the wrist. He settled down and reluctantly stopped talking. Cecilia saw his jaw muscles working while the presenter was talking to him and the audience at the same time. “I think everyone here understands your feelings but nevertheless, it’s now the turn of the publisher to respond to the criticism.” She turned towards Annika. “Annika Granlund, so you are the publisher at Eklund Press. Your company has published I am the Badger. What do you say to Christoffer’s allegations?”
