Buried Angels (26 page)

When she was ready, she straightened her back and tucked her hair under the cap. The hem of the uniform was a bit soiled, but otherwise it looked presentable. With luck the hospital was big enough that the nurses wouldn’t notice that a stranger had suddenly appeared among them.

Dagmar opened the door and peeked inside what appeared to be a changing room for employees. It was empty, and she hurried along the corridor, constantly scanning for a clue to Hermann’s whereabouts. She walked close to the wall, passing a long row of closed doors. There were no nameplates, and she began to realize that she might never find him. Despair rose up inside her, and she put a hand to her mouth to prevent a whimper escaping. She wasn’t ready to give up yet.

Two young nurses came walking towards her. They were talking in low voices, but as they drew closer, Dagmar pricked up her ears. Did they just say the name Göring? She walked slower, trying to eavesdrop. One of the nurses carried a tray, and it sounded as if she was complaining to her colleague.

‘The last time he threw the food at me,’ she said, shaking her head.

‘That’s why matron said that from now on there must be two of us when we go to Göring’s room,’ said the other nurse. She too sounded a bit scared.

They stopped outside a door, both of them hesitating. Realizing that she needed to seize this opportunity, Dagmar cleared her throat and put on an authoritative voice.

‘I’ve been ordered to see to Göring, so you girls won’t have to do it,’ she said, reaching for the tray.

‘You have?’ said the nurse. She sounded surprised, but the relief on her face was obvious.

‘I know how to handle patients like Göring. All right then, off you go, both of you. Leave me to take care of this. But first open the door for me.’

‘Thank you,’ said the girls, curtseying. One of them took out a big key ring and inserted one of the keys in the lock. She pulled open the door, and as soon as Dagmar stepped inside, the two nurses hurried off, happy to have been relieved of such an unpleasant task.

Dagmar felt her heart pounding. There he lay, her Hermann, curled up on a cot with his back to her.

‘Everything’s going to be fine, Hermann,’ she said, setting the tray on the floor. ‘I’m here now.’

He didn’t move. She studied his back, shivering with pleasure at being so close to him at last.

‘Hermann,’ she said, laying her hand on his shoulder.

He shrugged it off, and in one swift movement he turned over and sat up on the edge of the bed. ‘What do you want?’ he bellowed.

Dagmar recoiled. Was this Hermann? The dapper pilot who had made her whole body tremble? That straight-backed, broad-shouldered man whose hair had gleamed like gold in the sun? This couldn’t possibly be him.

‘Give me my medicine, you fucking bitch. I need it! Don’t you know who I am? I’m Hermann Göring, and I need my medicine.’ He spoke Swedish with a strong German accent, and he paused between each word, as if translating in his head.

Her throat seemed to close up. This man who was hollering like a madman was fat and his skin had a sickly pallor. His thin hair was plastered to his scalp. Sweat ran down his face.

Dagmar took a deep breath and forced herself to speak. ‘Hermann. It’s me. Dagmar.’ She kept her distance, afraid that at any moment he might lunge at her.

The blood vessels in his forehead bulged, and his pale skin took on a bright red flush that spread from his neck upwards.

‘Dagmar? I don’t give a shit what you whores are called. I want my medicine. It’s the Jews who have locked me up in here, and I have to get out. Hitler needs me. Where’s my medicine?’

He was so agitated that spittle sprayed Dagmar’s face. Terrified, she tried again.

‘Don’t you remember me? We met at a party given by Doctor Sjölin. In Fjällbacka.’

He abruptly stopped shouting and frowned as he stared at her in astonishment.

‘In Fjällbacka?’

‘Yes, at Doctor Sjölin’s party,’ she repeated. ‘We spent the night together.’

His eyes lit up, and she realized that he did remember her. At last. Now everything was going to be fine. She would work it all out and Hermann would again become her handsome captain.

‘You’re the waitress,’ he said, wiping the sweat from his forehead.

‘My name is Dagmar,’ she said, an uneasy feeling settling in her stomach. Why hadn’t he jumped up and taken her in his arms, the way she’d always pictured it in her dreams?

Then he began to laugh, making his fat paunch jiggle.

‘Dagmar. Exactly.’ He laughed again, and Dagmar clenched her hands into fists.

‘We have a daughter. Laura.’

‘A daughter?’ He narrowed his eyes. ‘You’re not the first to try that one! It can never be proved. Especially with a waitress.’

He uttered the last words with such contempt that Dagmar again felt her fury rise. In this sterile white room, where not even a sliver of daylight could penetrate the window, all her dreams and hopes had finally been shattered. Everything she thought she’d known about her life had turned out to be a lie – the years she’d spent longing and pining and putting up with a screaming child, his daughter, who constantly made demands – it had all been in vain.

Determined to hurt him as much as he had hurt her, she threw herself at him, her fingers curled into claws. Guttural sounds came from her throat as her fingers dug in, scratching at his face. As if from far away, she heard him screaming in German. The door opened, and she felt them pulling at her, dragging her off the man she had loved for so long.

Then everything went black.

It was his father who had taught him how to negotiate a good business deal. Lars-Åke ‘Lovart’ Månsson was a legend, and while he was growing up, Sebastian had worshipped him. His father’s nickname, which meant ‘windward’ in Swedish, had been given to him because he invariably managed to pull through, even in the most impossible straits. It was said that Lars-Åke led such a charmed existence he could spit into the wind and not a drop of saliva would land on his face.

Lovart had discovered that it was actually quite simple to get people to do what he wanted. The basic principle was the same as in boxing: identify your opponent’s weak spot and then attack it over and over until it was time to raise your arms in victory. Or, as in his own case, bring home the loot. His way of doing business won him neither popularity nor respect, but as he often said: ‘Respect never fed a hungry man.’

That had become Sebastian’s motto too. He was aware that he was despised by many and feared by most, but as he sat next to the pool with a cold beer in his hand, he knew that none of that really mattered. He wasn’t interested in making friends. Having friends would mean compromise and surrendering some of his power.

‘Pappa? The guys and I are thinking of going over to Strömstad, but I haven’t got any money.’ Wearing swimming trunks and a pleading expression, Jon came sauntering over to his father.

Sebastian shaded his eyes as he studied his twenty-year-old son. Sometimes Elisabeth grumbled that he spoiled Jon and his sister Jossan, who was two years younger, but he paid no heed. A difficult childhood with rules and regulations was not for his children. A life of privilege would teach them what the world had to offer and how to take whatever they could get. There would be plenty of time to bring Jon into the firm and teach him the things Lovart had taught Sebastian. Until then, the boy should be allowed to play.

‘Take my gold card. It’s in my wallet in the front hall.’

‘Cool. Thanks, Dad!’ Jon dashed into the house as if afraid that Sebastian might change his mind.

When he’d borrowed his father’s gold card for tennis week in Båstad, the bill had come to seventy thousand kronor. But that was nothing in the grand scheme of things. And most importantly, it had helped Jon to maintain his position among the friends he’d made at Lundsberg. There the rumours of his father’s wealth had quickly attracted boys who in the future would be influential men.

Naturally Lovart had taught Sebastian the importance of cultivating the right contacts. They were much more valuable than friends. That was why Lovart had selected the school on Valö for his son. The other boys who had enrolled came from the best families – with one exception. The Jewish boy, as Lovart called him, had neither money nor the appropriate background, and his presence detracted from the school’s status. But when Sebastian thought back to that strange and distant time, he realized that Josef had been the student he’d liked best. Josef had the same drive and obsessive motivation that he recognized in himself.

Now that they’d been reunited because of Josef’s lunatic plans, Sebastian had to admit that he admired Josef’s determination to do whatever it took to achieve his goal. It wasn’t relevant that their goals were not the same. Inevitably the wake-up call, when it came, would be brutal. But he sensed that Josef, in his heart, had understood from the start that this would not end happily for him. Still, hope is always the last thing to die. And Josef was aware that he had to do Sebastian’s bidding, the same as everyone else.

The recent developments were certainly interesting. Rumours that a discovery had been made on the island had spread rapidly. Of course, the gossip had started up the moment Ebba came back. The fact that the police were now poking around had only added grist to the rumour mill.

Sebastian pensively twirled his beer glass and then pressed it to his chest to cool off. He wondered what the others made of it all, and whether they too had been visited by the police. From the driveway he heard the sound of the Porsche starting up. So the little bastard had swiped his car keys, which were lying next to his wallet. Sebastian smiled. Good tactics. If he were still alive, Lovart would have been proud.

Ever since Anna had returned from Valö yesterday, she’d been thinking about decorating ideas. This morning she’d practically leaped out of bed. Dan had laughed at her eagerness, but she could tell that he was happy for her sake.

It would be a long wait before she could actually get going on the project, but Anna could hardly contain herself. She felt drawn to the place. Maybe it was because Tobias had been so openly enthusiastic about her suggestions. He had looked at her with something that resembled admiration, and for the first time in ages she had felt like an interesting and capable person. When she rang to find out if it would be okay for her to come back to take measurements and photographs, he had said that she was more than welcome.

Anna found herself missing his presence as she measured the distance between the windows in the master bedroom. The mood in the house was different when Tobias wasn’t there. She cast a glance at Ebba, who was painting the doorframe.

‘Don’t you get lonely out here?’

‘Not really. I think it’s nice to have some peace and quiet.’

She seemed reluctant to talk, and the silence in the room was so oppressive that Anna felt compelled to carry on the conversation.

‘Are you in touch with any of your relatives? Your biological relatives, I mean?’ She could have bitten her tongue. The question sounded intrusive, and would no doubt make Ebba even less inclined to chat.

‘There’s no one left.’

‘Have you researched your family history? You must be curious to know who your parents were.’

‘I never was before.’ Ebba stopped painting and held the paintbrush in the air. ‘But ever since I came back here, I’ve started to wonder about them.’

‘Erica has quite a lot of material.’

‘Yes, that’s what she said. I was thinking of going into town some day and having a look at it. I just haven’t got around to it yet. It’s so nice out here. I suppose I’m beginning to feel attached to the island.’

‘I saw Tobias when I arrived. He was on his way to town.’

Ebba nodded. ‘He took the shuttle in to do some grocery shopping, pick up the post, and take care of all the other errands. I’m trying to get a bit of work done, but …’

Anna almost asked about the child that she’d heard Ebba and Tobias had lost. But she didn’t quite dare. Her own grief was still too great for her to talk to someone else who had suffered a similar loss. At the same time she was puzzled. From what she could see, there was no trace of a child in the house. No photos, no items that might indicate that they had once been parents. But there was a look in Ebba’s eyes that she recognized. She saw that same look in the mirror every day.

‘Erica said she was going to try to find out what happened to your family’s belongings. There might be some personal possessions still around,’ she said as she began measuring the floor.

‘I know. I agree with her that it seems odd that everything vanished. They lived in this house, so there must have been all sorts of stuff here. I’d love to find some of the clothes and toys from when I was a child. Like the things that I saved from …’ She stopped talking abruptly and went back to painting, filling the room with the swishing sound of her brush. Every once in a while she would lean down and dip the brush in a can of white paint that was almost gone.