now, Ditlev? She doesn’t dare , you’re thinking. She has it too good with me . But no, Ditlev, I’ve grown away from you. I don’t care about you. You can rot in prison for all I care. And you’d have to do without your slaves down in the laundry in the meantime. Do you think you can handle that, Ditlev?’
He stared at her throat. He was well aware how hard he could strike. And he knew where.
Like a civet cat, she sensed it and retreated.
If he were going to strike, he’d have to do it from behind. No one was invincible.
‘You’re sick in the head, Ditlev,’ she said. ‘I’ve always known that. You used to be sick in a fun way, but not any more.’
‘Then get a lawyer, Thelma.’
Her smile was like Salome’s when she requested that Herod bring John the Baptist’s head on a platter.
‘And face Bent Krum on the other side of the table? No way, Ditlev. I’ve got other plans. I’m just waiting for the right opportunity.’
‘Are you threatening me?’
Her hair was slipping out of her hairband. She thrust her head back and flashed her bare neck, showing him she wasn’t afraid of him. Mocking him.
‘You think I’m threatening you?’ There was fire in her eyes. ‘I’m not. When I’m ready, I’ll pack my clothes and leave. The man I’ve found is waiting for me. A mature man. You had no idea, did you, Ditlev? But he’s older than you. I know my appetites. A boy cannot satisfy them.’
‘I see. And who is he?’
She smiled haughtily. ‘Frank Helmond. Quite a surprise, isn’t it?’
Several thoughts collided in Ditlev’s head.
Kimmie, the police, Thelma, and now Frank Helmond.
Be careful what you’re getting involved in , he told himself, andconsidered for a moment going down to see which of the Filipinas was working the evening shift.
A new cloud of loathing sank over him. Frank Helmond, she’d said. How degrading! A chubby local politician. A member of the underclass. A complete nobody.
He searched for Helmond in Krak’s directory and found the address, even though he already knew it. Helmond wasn’t one to hide his light under a bushel, as was evident from the address. But that’s how the man was, and everyone knew it. Lived in a villa he couldn’t afford, in a neighbourhood where no one would ever dream of voting for his worthless party.
Ditlev went to his bookshelf, removed a thick volume and opened it. It was hollow inside, with just enough room for his small plastic bags of cocaine.
The first line blurred the image of Thelma’s pinched glare. The second line caused him to straighten his shoulders, look at the telephone and forget that the word ‘risk’ wasn’t in his dictionary. He simply wanted to put a stop to it. Why not do it the right way? Together with Ulrik. In the dark of night.
‘Shall we watch movies at your place?’ he asked, the very instant Ulrik picked up the receiver. He heard a contented sigh from the other end.
‘Do you mean that?’ Ulrik asked.
‘Are you by yourself?’
‘Yes. Damn it, Ditlev, are you serious?’ He was already excited.
It was going to be a brilliant evening.
They had seen the film countless times. Life wouldn’t have been the same without it.
The first time they’d watched A Clockwork Orange was at boarding school, at the beginning of their second year. A new teacher had misunderstood the school’s cultural diversity code and had shown the class both that film and another one called If , which was about a rebellion at an English boarding school. The larger theme had been British cinema from the sixties, which, it was believed, was very fitting for a school with British traditions. But no matter how interesting this teacher’s choice was, it was also utterly misguided, the school’s leadership decided after close scrutiny. The new teacher’s career was therefore brief.
The damage was already done, however, because Kimmie and the class’s newest pupil, Kristian Wolf, lapped up the films’ messages without qualm.
He stared at her throat. He was well aware how hard he could strike. And he knew where.
Like a civet cat, she sensed it and retreated.
If he were going to strike, he’d have to do it from behind. No one was invincible.
‘You’re sick in the head, Ditlev,’ she said. ‘I’ve always known that. You used to be sick in a fun way, but not any more.’
‘Then get a lawyer, Thelma.’
Her smile was like Salome’s when she requested that Herod bring John the Baptist’s head on a platter.
‘And face Bent Krum on the other side of the table? No way, Ditlev. I’ve got other plans. I’m just waiting for the right opportunity.’
‘Are you threatening me?’
Her hair was slipping out of her hairband. She thrust her head back and flashed her bare neck, showing him she wasn’t afraid of him. Mocking him.
‘You think I’m threatening you?’ There was fire in her eyes. ‘I’m not. When I’m ready, I’ll pack my clothes and leave. The man I’ve found is waiting for me. A mature man. You had no idea, did you, Ditlev? But he’s older than you. I know my appetites. A boy cannot satisfy them.’
‘I see. And who is he?’
She smiled haughtily. ‘Frank Helmond. Quite a surprise, isn’t it?’
Several thoughts collided in Ditlev’s head.
Kimmie, the police, Thelma, and now Frank Helmond.
Be careful what you’re getting involved in , he told himself, andconsidered for a moment going down to see which of the Filipinas was working the evening shift.
A new cloud of loathing sank over him. Frank Helmond, she’d said. How degrading! A chubby local politician. A member of the underclass. A complete nobody.
He searched for Helmond in Krak’s directory and found the address, even though he already knew it. Helmond wasn’t one to hide his light under a bushel, as was evident from the address. But that’s how the man was, and everyone knew it. Lived in a villa he couldn’t afford, in a neighbourhood where no one would ever dream of voting for his worthless party.
Ditlev went to his bookshelf, removed a thick volume and opened it. It was hollow inside, with just enough room for his small plastic bags of cocaine.
The first line blurred the image of Thelma’s pinched glare. The second line caused him to straighten his shoulders, look at the telephone and forget that the word ‘risk’ wasn’t in his dictionary. He simply wanted to put a stop to it. Why not do it the right way? Together with Ulrik. In the dark of night.
‘Shall we watch movies at your place?’ he asked, the very instant Ulrik picked up the receiver. He heard a contented sigh from the other end.
‘Do you mean that?’ Ulrik asked.
‘Are you by yourself?’
‘Yes. Damn it, Ditlev, are you serious?’ He was already excited.
It was going to be a brilliant evening.
They had seen the film countless times. Life wouldn’t have been the same without it.
The first time they’d watched A Clockwork Orange was at boarding school, at the beginning of their second year. A new teacher had misunderstood the school’s cultural diversity code and had shown the class both that film and another one called If , which was about a rebellion at an English boarding school. The larger theme had been British cinema from the sixties, which, it was believed, was very fitting for a school with British traditions. But no matter how interesting this teacher’s choice was, it was also utterly misguided, the school’s leadership decided after close scrutiny. The new teacher’s career was therefore brief.
The damage was already done, however, because Kimmie and the class’s newest pupil, Kristian Wolf, lapped up the films’ messages without qualm.
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