A north-easterly storm bringing low temperatures raged over the archipelago.Then followed dead calm. Sara Fredrika was finding it increasingly difficult to move, and she was in continous pain from her back.He went fishing and imagined himself to be the lord of Halsskar. He rarely gave a thought to Kristina Tacker and the baby. His memory was like a vast vacuum.Sometimes he would give a sudden start. Kristina Tacker, Ludwig Tacker were just behind him.One morning when he went down to the inlet he heard voices. He followed the sounds, leaned over the edge of the rocks and discovered a small brown mahogany yacht anch.o.r.ed off the narrow headland projecting furthest to the south-west. Two little rowing boats were heading for land. In the boats were women dressed in white and with large hats, and men in blue jackets who were doing the rowing. He could see the glint of bottles, the women were laughing. In the stern of one of the boats was a man wearing a cap back to front, holding some sort of instrument in front of his face perhaps a camera.He hurried back to the cottage and told Sara Fredrika.'They look like summer holidaymakers,' he said. 'But are there any this far out? I thought they were only to be seen around Stockholm and on the bathing beaches along the west coast. And it's getting late in the year, it will soon be autumn.''I once heard about a man who used to come with a piano on the steamboat Tjust Tjust from Soderkoping,' she said. 'It was always the beginning of May. He'd bring the piano with him from Stockholm, and it would be lashed down in the bows. The crew had trouble in getting it on to a cattle ferry. But once he'd settled he would sit on an island playing the piano and getting drunk every day until September, and then he would go back home again.' from Soderkoping,' she said. 'It was always the beginning of May. He'd bring the piano with him from Stockholm, and it would be lashed down in the bows. The crew had trouble in getting it on to a cattle ferry. But once he'd settled he would sit on an island playing the piano and getting drunk every day until September, and then he would go back home again.''This party doesn't have a piano with them.''What are they doing here? On my island?''It's not your island. And I expect they'd take no notice if anybody tried to stop them landing.'She started to protest, but he cut her short.'They'll wonder who I am,' he said. 'I mustn't be seen, my orders are not to allow myself to be identified.''How would they know you were anybody other than a man who lives here on this island with me? People judge people on their appearance. Take some of my husband's clothes.'That thought had already occurred to him. He took some clothes out of a chest. They smelled mouldy, of old sea.'You look as if you're wearing hand-me-downs,' she said. 'You're taller than he was, but not as bulky.''I'm only borrowing them,' he said. 'When we leave Halsskar I shall burn them.''I want to see these people,' she said.'You can't go scrambling over the rocks.''If they are where you say, on that headland in the west, there are some flat ledges I can walk along. I want to see those hats.'When they came to the headland they found that the party had already landed. They were squatting behind a big rock. It took him a while to realise that they were making a film, one of these newfangled inventions with people flitting about jerkily in moving pictures, projected on to a white screen. He tried to explain to Sara Fredrika in a low whisper, but she was not listening.The man had placed his cine camera on a stand. The ladies in white were running around on the rocks when suddenly a man with an amazingly long moustache and a white-painted face jumped out from behind a slab of rock and rushed towards the women.Sara Fredrika dug her nails into Tobia.s.son-Svartman's arm.'He's got a tail,' she hissed. 'There's a tail sticking out of his trousers.'She was right. The man with black rings round his eyes had an artificial tail. The women looked as if they were praying and begging for mercy, their faces twitching. The man behind the camera was winding away at full speed, the women were screaming, but without making a sound. Sara Fredrika stood up. Her scream was like a foghorn. She bellowed and started throwing stones at the man with the tail. Tobia.s.son-Svartman tried to hold her back.'It's not real,' he said. 'It's not real life, it's not actually happening.'He s.n.a.t.c.hed a stone from out of her hand and gave her a shake.'They're only acting,' he said. 'n.o.body's going to get hurt.'Sara Fredrika calmed down. The man behind the camera had stopped winding and turned his cap the right way round. The ladies were staring in astonishment at the pair who had materialised from the rocks. The man had removed the tail and was holding it in his hand like a piece of rope. There was a flash of light from the yacht which was bobbing up and down in the swell. Somebody was watching them through a telescope.Tobia.s.son-Svartman told Sara Fredrika to wait, and went over to the film-makers. The women were young and strikingly pretty. The man with the tail had a face he thought he recognised. When he held his hand out in greeting, he remembered having seen the man in a play at the Royal Dramatic Theatre in Stockholm. His name was Valfrid Mertsgren, the play was called The Wedding at Ulfsa. The Wedding at Ulfsa.Mertsgren ignored his outstretched hand and eyed him up and down in annoyance.'Who are you?' he asked. 'We were told this skerry was uninhabited. They said there was a ruin of an old cottage that we could use.''I live here with my wife.''For h.e.l.l's sake, you can't live here. What do you live on?''Fishing.''Plundering wrecks?''If somebody gets into difficulties we help them. We don't plunder.''Everybody does,' said Mertsgren. 'People are greedy. They'd steal their neighbour's heart if they had the chance.'The cameraman and the two women in white had gathered round him.'Can you really live here?' asked one of the women. 'What do you do in the winter?''Where there's the sea, there's food.''Can't we include him and the fat woman in the film?' said the other woman, with a shrill laugh.'She's not fat,' Tobia.s.son-Svartman said.The woman who had made the suggestion stared at him. He hated her intensely.'She's not fat,' he said again. 'She's pregnant''In any case, you can't be in the film,' Mertsgren said. 'We can't have a woman with a bun in the oven. This is a romantic adventure, pretty tableaux alternating with scary ones. We don't want any cows with one up the spout.'Tobia.s.son-Svartman was on the point of punching him. But he controlled himself, spoke slowly in an attempt to disguise his feelings.'Why make a film on Halsskar?' he asked in a friendly tone. 'Why here of all places?''That's a good question,' Mertsgren said. 'I really don't know why we're filming here.'He turned his back on the others.'There's a bloodhound by the name of Hultman on the boat,' he snarled. 'He's a wholesale dealer, and he's put some money into this incredible mish-mash of a ma.n.u.script we're supposed to be filming. Maybe he's got nothing better to waste his money on. He's earning vast amounts from the war, churning out nails and explosives. Can you see what the boat's called?'To his surprise Tobia.s.son-Svartman discovered that the yacht had the name Goeben Goeben on its bows. The same name as the German battleship he had a picture of on his desk, the ship he had never actually seen but had admired even so. on its bows. The same name as the German battleship he had a picture of on his desk, the ship he had never actually seen but had admired even so.A yacht and a battleship with the same name! Women in white with large hats and dying sailors trapped inside their burning ships, a war and a man earning big money.'I understand,' he said.'Understand what?' Mertsgren asked.'That Mr Hultman likes the war and death.''I don't know if he likes death. He likes watching women bathing through his telescope. He keeps far enough away not to be seen, n.o.body realises he's there, but then he aims his telescope at the woman or the part of her body he fancies.''But likes the war and death for the sake of his nails.''He certainly likes the Germans, at least. They're like his nails, he says. Straight, austere, all the same. He likes the German orderliness, hopes the Kaiser will win the war, curses Sweden for keeping its mouth shut and hiding behind switched-off lighthouses. While he sits in his yacht watching ladies through his telescope.'Mertsgren leaned forward and whispered in Tobia.s.son-Svartman's ear.'He's also enthusiastic about anything to do with erotic jokes. You're a fisherman, so he would have told you that he only sticks his rod into Thigh Bay.'He contemplated the tail he had in his hand.'In all the appalling and degrading roles I've had to play in my life, I've never had to wear a tail before. Not until now. Hamlet doesn't have a tail, nor does Lear, nor the malade imaginaire. But a man will do anything for a thousand kronor. That's what he's paying. For a week's work, plus fancy dinners and barrels of booze.'He waved to Sara Fredrika.'I understand why she got upset,' he said. 'Give her my compliments and tell her I apologise. We'll leave you in peace. I'll tell Hultman that the skerry was already booked.'Mertsgren took the two ladies by the arm and returned to the rowing boats. The man with the camera was busy winding leather straps round his stand. Tobia.s.son-Svartman looked hard at the camera. The man nodded.'A miracle,' he said. 'Something for the priests to envy us for.' He rested the stand on his shoulder. 'Are you wondering what on earth I'm on about?''Yes.''I have the mystery of life in my hand. I turn the handle and decide the speed of people's movements. With the camera we can expose secrets that even the eye cannot see. A galloping horse has all four hooves in the air at the same time, that's something the camera has been able to establish. We can see more than the eye does. But we also control what we allow others to see.'He picked up the camera and looked from Sara Fredrika to Tobia.s.son-Svartman. He smiled.'I don't really know how I got mixed up in all this,' he said. 'I was a photographer to start with, with my own little studio. Then Hultman happened to hear about me, and now I'm standing here on a rock with a cine camera and some crazy idea about a tableau the Nail Master has decided should be called The Devil on Holiday by the Sea. The Devil on Holiday by the Sea. But it has sharpened my eyes, I have to admit that.' But it has sharpened my eyes, I have to admit that.''How do you mean?'The man put his head on one side, a shadow fell over his smile.'Well, for example, I can see that you are not a fisherman. I don't know who you are nor what you do. But a fisherman? Never.'He set off tentatively towards the water, carrying his equipment. Tobia.s.son-Svartman had the impression that the stand was part of a cross the cameraman was having to bear.The man stopped and turned round.'Maybe you would be a good story for a film? An escaped criminal, somebody running away from his debts. How should I know?'He did not wait for an answer. The first rowing boat was already on its way back to the yacht. The women in white were laughing, there was a clinking of bottles.Tobia.s.son-Svartman went back to Sara Fredrika.'What kind of people were they? Those women hiding their eyes under their hats? I didn't like them. And tails are for animals, not for people.''It was just make-believe. A devil jumping around, that's all.''What were they doing here?'They had started to walk back to the cottage. He was holding on to her, making sure she did not slip.'Just think of them as driftwood. Something that happened to have been washed ash.o.r.e here. Then the wind turned and they drifted away again. Driftwood that wasn't even fit for firewood.''Tails are for animals,' she said again. 'Tails are not for people.'

CHAPTER 172.

In the afternoon he went to the highest point of the skerry, telescope in hand. The Goeben Goeben had left. He scanned the horizon but could find no sign of it. had left. He scanned the horizon but could find no sign of it.The cameraman had seen right through him. He tried to work out if that implied danger.He could not see any.

CHAPTER 173.

One night she woke him up out of a dream.Kristina Tacker had been standing in front of him, she had been saying something, but he had not been able to work out what it was.He gave a start and sat up.'I think the baby is on its way. It's moving, it's tensing its body.''But there's a long time to go yet.''I have no control over that.''What do you want me to do?''Stay awake. I've been on my own for long enough in my life.''I'm here, even if I'm asleep.''What do I know about your dreams?'It's just like the man with the camera, he thought. She sees straight through me. But she does not know.'I rarely dream,' he said. 'My sleep is empty, it's black, it doesn't even have any colours. I sometimes think I've been dreaming about flowers, but they are always grey. I've only ever dreamed about dead flowers, never about living ones.'They stayed awake until dawn. The oyster-catchers were calling to one another, the gulls, the terns.At about six they decided that he would sail to Krkmaro and fetch the midwife. Even if the baby was not ready to pop out, they ought to make sure that everything was prepared.He set sail in the easterly wind, three or four metres per second.A thought struck him. Perhaps he should seize the moment and make a run for it, head north or south, or even east towards Gotland, and the Gulf of Riga beyond.But he set sail in a westerly direction, to the midwife. The dinghy sped through the water, Halsskar faded into the horizon behind him.The August day was like a buoy, he thought. Clean and white in the sunlight.The sea was carrying him to his destiny.

CHAPTER 174.

Angel was her name, the midwife.She was not baptised Angel, of course: in the registers and on her midwifery certificate she was called Angela Wester. But everybody said Angel. That's what her mother had wanted to call her, she had had a dream about it the night before she gave birth. But the vicar refused. He pointed to the parish register and maintained that n.o.body was allowed to be called Angel, it would be little short of blasphemy. Her father, the ship's master Fredrik Wester, did not believe in G.o.ds but in compa.s.ses, and suggested with a growl that they should call the girl Angel even so. The vicar could not dictate what happened out in the archipelago. And so she became Angel. She never had any brothers or sisters, nor did she find a husband as she was cross-eyed and could hardly be called pretty. When her parents died she sold the house in the village and the little cargo boat that was half submerged in the creek, and moved into a crofter's cottage. She had trained as a midwife in Norrkoping, and devoted her life to other people's children. She smiled a lot, had a beautiful voice, and was not afraid of mending the roof of her cottage herself if necessary. She could be ill-humoured and would sometimes set out on her own in her sailing dinghy, and everybody in the village would worry in case she never came back again. But she always did come back, and would sail her boat into the creek under cover of darkness when her depression had blown away.Most of all, Angel was a good midwife. She was good at extracting babies that had got stuck. She had magic hands. There were a lot of midwives and old ladies who knew how to do the job of a midwife. They were all good, of course, but Angel was deft. deft. Like a seamstress or a hunter or a gardener who could make things grow in hollows in the rock with hardly any soil. She had been so successful in many cases considered to be hopeless, that a doctor from Stockholm had once visited Krkmaro in order to interview her, and although she was getting on for seventy and there were younger midwives to turn to, most people asked for her. Like a seamstress or a hunter or a gardener who could make things grow in hollows in the rock with hardly any soil. She had been so successful in many cases considered to be hopeless, that a doctor from Stockholm had once visited Krkmaro in order to interview her, and although she was getting on for seventy and there were younger midwives to turn to, most people asked for her.He moored the boat in the creek and walked up the hill to the village. The villagers were out in the fields and pointed the way. He knocked on Angel's door and she answered immediately. He had never set eyes on her before, but even so, it was as if he knew her. He went into her low-ceilinged kitchen and said where he had come from. She smiled.'Sara Fredrika's baby,' she said. 'I a.s.sume it's yours as well?'He could not bring himself to reply, and she did not worry about it.'Children would no doubt like to choose their parents,' she said. 'Maybe they do, did we but know it. But there's some time to go yet for Sara Fredrika. What's the matter with her?'He tried to explain, saying what Sara Fredrika had told him to say. Spasmodic tension, difficulties in moving, pains in her pelvis.Angel asked a few questions.'Has she had a fall?''No.''And you haven't hit her?''Why on earth would I want to do that?''Because men hit their women when things go wrong. Does she have a fever? Has she been carrying heavy things?''She spends most of her time resting.''And when you left things had got a bit better?''Yes.'"Then you must go back to her. Sara Fredrika hasn't had much happiness in this life. I'm not sure that you have brought her any either. But you must look after her well. Then you might be able to become the man she needs.''She wants me to take her away from there.''Why should she stay there on that barren rock, after all the terrible things she's had to go through? It's eating her up, that inhospitable skerry is sc.r.a.ping her to the bone.'She went with him down the hill to the sailing dinghy.'You haven't even said what you're called. Don't you have a name?''I'm Lars.''I don't care where you come from. Rumour says that you're in the navy. But there's something else that's more important than that. You are wearing Nils Persson's clothes. You are reconciled to the fact that there was somebody else before you.''What shall I tell her?'"That it's not time yet. And that I shall come, as long as you fetch me.'He got into the boat and she untied the painter. There was no wind in the creek, so he prepared the oars.'Stay until the baby's been born. Then you should take her away. The youngster won't survive out there. So many young children have died on that barren skerry over the years, too many to keep count of.'He started rowing.'Tell her I'll come,' she shouted. 'We'll get the baby born and it will survive all right, as long as you all get away from there.'He kept on rowing until he found some wind. Then he raised the sail and headed for the open sea.He felt ashamed when he thought about how close he had come to running away. He would have stolen her boat like a pirate, and abandoned her. Now he was sailing as fast as possible so that she would not start to think that he had headed out to sea after all.He was in a hurry. And the sea was still carrying him to his destiny.

CHAPTER 175.

August was drawing to a close, it was unusually windy, persistent westerly winds. An autumnal thunderstorm pa.s.sed over them, and a stroke of lightning felled a tree on Armno.He speculated that memory and forgetting shared the same key. Perhaps anger shared the same door? Kristina Tacker and the baby drifted away. But where was he himself?The longest distance I have had to relate to is the distance to myself. No matter where I stand, the compa.s.s inside me pulls me in different directions. All my life I have crept around trying to avoid b.u.mping into myself. I have no idea who I am, and I do not want to know either.

CHAPTER 176.

Sara Fredrika could feel that her body was calm. She talked all the time about the journey they would make once the baby was delivered.Sometimes the conversations became unbearable. The skerry began to be a heavy weight, a ballast in his pockets that made it more and more difficult for him to move. He thought about what Angel had said, about the inhospitable skerry sc.r.a.ping her to the bone.

CHAPTER 177.

Every three or four days he would sit down to write a letter to Kristina Tacker. He had found a rock formation on the south side of the skerry that gave him both a bench to sit on and a rough desk to write on.He described a voyage in a convoy of ships heading for Bornholm and the Polish coast. It had been a dangerous but necessary expedition. Now he was back in Swedish waters again, and by coincidence he had ended up in ostergotland, among the islands where he had already spent such a long time. He would soon be returning to Stockholm. His mission had been long and drawn out, but there was an end in sight, he wrote, an end, and then he would return home. He asked about Laura, how Kristina Tacker herself was, and not least her father. Had he recovered? Had they arrested whoever had carried out the attack?But he also wrote about himself, tried to capture something of his own desperation without revealing the true facts. When I'm alone I sometimes get so close to myself that I understand who I am. But then you are not there, n.o.body else can see what I see, only me, and that is not enough. When I'm alone I sometimes get so close to myself that I understand who I am. But then you are not there, n.o.body else can see what I see, only me, and that is not enough.He hesitated for a long time, wondering whether to leave out the last few lines. But in the end he left them in, felt that he dared do so.He buried the letters under a piece of turf, wrapped inside a waterproof pouch. Towards the end of August he decided he would have to send at least one of the many letters. He had intended to give the letters to some fisherman or hunter who pa.s.sed by the skerry, but none of them landed. He could see sailing dinghies in among the skerries sometimes, but none of them came close. One day he decided that it could not wait any longer. He told Sara Fredrika that he was going to go to church in Gryt on the last Sunday in August.'I'm not much of a believer,' he said, 'but after a while I feel very empty inside.''If you're lucky you'll be able to sail there. If there's no wind you'll have a long way to row.'They got up at dawn and she went with him to the inlet. He had his uniform wrapped inside his oilskin.'You'll have a good wind,' she said. 'Easterly veering towards north, a church wind in both directions. Sing a hymn for me, listen to the gossip outside the church. I've no idea who's dead and who's still alive. Bring me some news, even if it's old news.'He stopped once on the way, landing on one of the islands in Bussund. He changed into his uniform and scrubbed away a stain on one of the shoulders. As he sailed into Gryt accompanied by other boats with pa.s.sengers on their way to church, he was wearing his naval cap. He could see that his companions were bemused, but some of them must know about him, he could not be completely unknown.There was a man on Sara Fredrika's island, the father of the baby that was about to be born.Remarkably enough, he felt something approaching pride when everybody looked at him.

CHAPTER 178.

There had been a time when you could sail right up to the church from both the north and the south.But the sound had silted up, and now you had to walk. There were a lot of people gathered outside the church. People seldom came from the outlying islands in winter.Suddenly he came face to face with the farm labourers from Kattilo. They were not entirely sober.'We haven't said a word,' Gosta said. 'Nothing has slipped out.''Let's keep it that way,' Tobia.s.son-Svartman said. 'And we mustn't make it too obvious that we know each other.'He turned on his heel and walked away. The s.e.xton told him that the man who looked after the post in Gryt was smoking his pipe by the church wall.Tobia.s.son-Svartman gave him two letters. He asked for one to be posted right away, the other ten days later.During the service he half listened to the Reverend Gustafsson's sermon about the devil who takes possession of our flesh, and the mercy of the Son of G.o.d.Afterwards he wandered around, listening to the conversations. He had always been an eavesdropper, skilled at sucking in what other people were talking about. Most of the congregation were talking about who was ill and how bad the fishing had been.When he started walking towards his boat a man in uniform came alongside him. He shook hands and introduced himself as the parish constable, Karl Albert Lund.'There aren't many people round here wearing uniform,' said the constable. "That's why I thought I'd say h.e.l.lo.''Hans Jakobsson, Commander. I just happen to be pa.s.sing by,' Tobia.s.son-Svartman said.'Might I ask what it is that brings you here?''I can't tell you that. It has to do with the war.''I understand. I won't press you.'Tobia.s.son-Svartman clicked his heels and saluted. He went back to the boat and sailed home. Why had he chosen the name Hans Jakobsson? he wondered.Was it a greeting to the man who had died on the deck of the Blenda? Blenda? Why had he not said what he had really wanted to say, that he was Sara Fredrika's new husband? Why had he not said what he had really wanted to say, that he was Sara Fredrika's new husband?He changed out of his uniform. The wind was enabling him to maintain steady progress. On the way he invented news and rumours about unknown people that he pa.s.sed on to Sara Fredrika that evening when he got back home.

CHAPTER 179.

Sara Fredrika gave birth on Halsskar on 9 September 1915.He'd had time to fetch Angel from Krkmaro. The wind had been capricious on the way back, the sail had not been much use, and he had rowed so hard that the palms of his hands were covered in burst blisters. There were three of them in the boat, Angel had taken with her another woman to help, a maid to one of the cargo boat skippers. Once they arrived on the island Angel told Tobia.s.son-Svartman to keep out of the way, and to find somewhere among the rocks where there was a wind to carry the screams in a different direction if Sara Fredrika got into difficulties.It was a chilly day. He found a crevice on the south side where he could half lie, well protected. He tried to imagine Sara Fredrika, her struggle to force the baby out. But he saw nothing, only the sea.My innermost longing is a dream about horizons, he thought, horizons and depths. That's what I am searching for.It was as if he had some kind of invisible seal that made him inaccessible to everybody apart from himself.The surface was calm, like a sea when there is no wind blowing, but underneath it lurked all the duplicitous forces he was forced to fight against. Ambition, insecurity, the memory of his furious father and the silent weeping of his mother. He lived through a constant battle between control, calculation and outrageous risk-taking. He did not do what other people do and adapt to different situations, but he changed his personality, became somebody else, often without being aware of the fact.Without warning, he started crying, forlornly, uncontrollably. Then he stopped, just as suddenly as he had started.Late in the afternoon he heard them shouting for him. He went back to the cottage, convinced that he had a son. But Angel Wester held out a daughter to him. This time he did not think the baby looked like a shrivelled mushroom, more like heather in the spring before it acquires its full colour.'She's healthy and strong. She will survive if G.o.d wishes her to and you look after her properly. I reckon she weighs three kilos, and a bit more.''How is Sara Fredrika?''Like all women are after they've given birth. Relief, happiness at the fact that all has gone well, a great desire to sleep. But first she should greet her husband.'He went inside. Angel and the maid left them alone. Her face was pale and sweaty.'What shall we call her?'Without hesitation, he replied 'Laura. That's a pretty name. Laura.''She's born now. And now we can leave this h.e.l.lish island and never return.''We shall leave as soon as I've finished my last reports.''Are you happy about your child?''I'm indescribably happy about my child,' he said.'You got a new daughter to replace the one that fell over the cliff.'He did not say anything, just nodded. Then he went outside and invited Angel and the maid to a celebratory drink. As it was already late, they stayed overnight.He spent the night in a hollow covered by his oilskin coat.He thought about his two daughters, both called Laura.Laura Tobia.s.son-Svartman.The younger sister of Laura Tobia.s.son-Svartman.They'll live their lives in ignorance of each other. Just as their mothers will never meet.

CHAPTER 180.

A few days after Sara Fredrika had given birth, Tobia.s.son-Svartman found something extraordinary next to the rocks on a headland at the extreme eastern edge of Halsskar.He could see something bobbing up and down close to the edge of the rocks. When he clambered down to the water he saw that it was a collection of military-issue boots, tied together to form a chain. He tried to find some marking or other that would reveal if they were German or Russian boots, but there was nothing.There were nine boots in all, four left ones and five right. They had been in the water for a long time. Somebody had tied them together and sent them drifting over the sea.He threw them up on to the rocks.He had the feeling that once again he had been surprised and challenged by the dead.

CHAPTER 181.

Their daughter cried a lot and kept them awake at night.For Tobia.s.son-Svartman it was like being exposed to an agonising pain. He cut pieces of cork and stuck them in his ears when Laura was crying at her loudest, but nothing seemed to help. Sara Fredrika was immune to all noise, and he observed her love with envy. As for him, he had difficulty in feeling any connection with the child.But with Sara Fredrika, it was as if he had finally understood what love was. For the first time in his life he felt terrified of being abandoned. He was scared by the thought of what would happen if one of these days it dawned on Sara Fredrika that there was no plan to leave the skerry. That the only things in existence were the barren island and all the new reports that had to be written for a secret committee.

CHAPTER 182.

Sara Fredrika took every opportunity to talk about leaving.Her questions now made him feel profoundly desperate. He wanted to be left in peace, he did not want to talk about the future.'I'm scared,' she said. 'I dream about water, about the depths that you measure. But I don't want to see that. I want to see Laura growing up, I want to get away from this h.e.l.lish skerry.'"We shall. Soon. Not just yet.'It was early one morning. Their daughter was asleep. It was raining. She looked long and hard at him.'I never see you touching your child,' she said. 'Not even with your fingertips.''I daren't,' he said simply. 'I'm afraid that my fingers will leave a mark.'She said no more. He continued to balance on the invisible borderline between her worry and her trust.

CHAPTER 183.

At the beginning of October Tobia.s.son-Svartman could see that Sara Fredrika's patience was close to breaking point. She did not believe him when he said that soon, not just yet, but soon he would have finished writing his reports.One night she started hitting him while he was asleep. He defended himself, but she kept on hitting.'Why can't we go away? Why do you never finish?''I'm nearly finished. There's not much left. Then we can go.'He got out of bed and went outside.

CHAPTER 184.

A few days later. Drizzle, no wind.He walked round the skerry. He suddenly had a flash of insight. All these rocks formed a sort of archive. Like books in a library with infinite holdings. Or faces that will eventually be picked out and examined by future generations.An archive or a museum, he could not be quite specific about his insight. But autumn was creeping in. Soon this archive or museum would close down for the winter.

CHAPTER 185.

Nights now brought frost with them. As day broke on 9 October, the baby started to cry.That same day Angel Wester sailed out to the skerry to check up on Sara Fredrika and the baby. She was satisfied, the baby was growing and developing as it should.He accompanied her down to the inlet when her visit was over.'Sara Fredrika is a good mother,' she said. 'She is strong, and she has plenty of milk. And she seems to be happy as well. I can see that you are looking after her properly. I think she has forgotten her husband, the one that drowned.''She will never forget him.''There comes a day when the dead turn their backs on us,' she said. 'It happens when a new being enters our lives. Make the most of the opportunity. Don't let there be a distance between you and the baby.'He pushed the boat out as she raised the sail.'Will you be staying here over the winter?' she asked.'Yes,' he said. 'Maybe not.''What kind of an answer is that? Yes and no, and maybe something in between?''We haven't decided yet.''Autumn has. .h.i.t us early this year, as the old men say when they see the clouds and feel the winds. Early autumn, long winter, rainy spring. Don't wait too long before leaving.'He watched the dinghy disappearing round the headland. He could hear his daughter crying in the distance.Angel's words had hit him with full force. All his life he had been keeping things at a distance. But distance did not matter, it was closeness that was significant.He realised that he would have to tell Sara Fredrika the truth, that he had belonged to somebody else, that he had been kicked out of the Swedish Navy and one of these days would be penniless. Only then could they start again from the beginning, only then could they really make plans to leave.With great effort he had built walls around Halsskar. Now he would have to demolish them, in order to get out.He was overcome by a strong sensation. Surprised and confused, he said to himself: I think my sounding lead has reached the bottom.He was in the habit of rounding off the day by taking his telescope and climbing up to the highest point on the skerry. There was a north-easterly wind, fresh and squally. He pulled his jacket more tightly round him and gazed out towards the mainland.A sailing dinghy was approaching. The sail was straining hard, but the boat was sitting well in the water. He did not recognise it, he did not need the telescope to tell him that. It was longer than the boats used by the fishermen in the archipelago.He aimed his telescope and focused it.There was a woman at the helm and she was steering straight for Halsskar.The woman was Kristina Tacker, his wife.

PART X.

Angel's Message

CHAPTER 186.

He thought it was an optical illusion.But the boat was real. Kristina Tacker was sailing resolutely, the sail straining in the wind. She was heading for Halsskar because she knew that was where he was hiding.He searched for a way of escape. But there was none. He had nowhere to escape to.He set off in a hurry for the inlet when he saw her turning the boat into the wind. All the time he was trying to find an explanation. Could he have left a trail by way of his sea charts? He had never imagined that she would start to interpret them. Or had somebody given him away, somebody who knew where he was?He could not find an answer. There wasn't one.By the time he reached the sh.o.r.e the boat was inside the inlet. Kristina Tacker had already dropped anchor when she noticed him, stood up and started yelling. In order to shut her up he waded out into the cold water until it was chest-deep.'Stop shouting,' he said. 'Everything can be explained.''Nothing can be explained!' she screamed. 'Why do you keep lying to me? Why are you hiding here? How can you explain that away?'She had moved into the bows and started hitting him over the head with a piece of rope. He tried to defend himself, but she went on hitting him, he would never have imagined her capable of such fury. This was not the wife he knew, this was somebody else, somebody who smashed china figurines every time she moved them around on their shelves.The only way he could shut her up was to pull her out of the boat. He took hold of her and dragged her into the water. She resisted, but he kept hold of her, pushed her down under the surface. Every time she came back up again she continued shouting at him. He smacked her face, once, twice, harder. She went quiet in the end. Her wet hair was sticking to her cheeks. He could no longer smell her fragrance, nothing of the wine nor the subtle perfume.'I can explain everything,' he said. 'Provided you stop shouting.'He had never felt as scared as he felt at this moment. If Sara Fredrika were to turn up now all the walls would crumble around him. Nothing would survive.Kristina Tacker looked at him in disgust.'Behind a secret there can be another secret,' he said.She lurched at him and scratched his face. She did it perfectly calmly, without taking her eyes off him.Blood ran down his cheek.'I don't want to hear any lies about what you are doing and why you are here,' she said. 'I just want you to explain the only thing that is important. Why did Laura have to die? That's all I want to know.'He took a step backwards, stumbled over a piece of rock and fell. She grabbed hold of his arm.'Don't you try and run away again. You're never going to do that again. I'll find you no matter where you hide. All your lies leave a clear trail that I can follow, wherever you go.'He was punch-drunk. It felt as if the cold water was penetrating his skin and making his body swell up.'We can't stand in the water like this,' he said. 'It's too cold.''This is only water. Death is cold. Laura is cold, not this water.''What happened?'She took hold of his head and pulled it towards her. She had tears in her eyes, he recognised her now. There were glimpses of the woman he was married to behind all the wet hair.'After you went off I stayed in hospital for a few weeks. Laura grew as she ought to do. She grew bigger and stronger. But then one night I was woken up by her screaming. It wasn't the usual sort of scream, it was something different. Dr Edman came. He thought it was colic and would die down of its own accord. But it didn't die down, it wasn't colic, it was ileus, an obstruction of the intestine. Laura died in terrible agony. There was nothing I could do, and where were you? I thought you were on an important mission, I thought that you were with me in spirit, I thought about all the sorrow we would have to bear together. But the baby's death exposed all your lies, that was the terrible price I had to pay in order to discover who you really are.'She leaned even further forward into his face.'Was it you who attacked my father?''Of course it wasn't. But will you stop shouting, I can't bear such loud noises.'She slapped the water with her hand so that it splashed into his face.'What do you know about noises? You have no idea what a dying baby sounds like. Do you want to hear? I can imitate exactly what she sounded like just before she died.'He shook his head.'I'm devastated,' he said. 'I don't understand what you're saying. Is Laura dead?''On 22 August at 4.35 in the afternoon Dr Edman said that he could only express his sympathy. She is dead. But you are alive. What can't you understand?'He did not answer. He tried to picture the dead child, but all he could see was a black hole.'We can't stay in the water like this. It's too cold.'She started to hit his face again.'Can't you hear what I'm saying? My daughter is dead.''She was my daughter as well.''She wasn't your daughter. You were never there, you reacted to her by telling lies to get away from her and from me and from yourself and from everything I've ever believed in.'She could not find any more words. She stood in the water screaming in despair.He could picture the shelves with the china figurines slowly falling down one after another, each one smashing to smithereens.

CHAPTER 187.

He led her carefully out of the water.He was appalled by her bitterness, but shaken most of all by the boundless sorrow he had caused her. For the first time he felt utterly defenceless when facing her. This time he would not be able to wriggle off the hook. And Sara Fredrika would not be able to rescue him. Her presence would only compound the catastrophe.'Do you remember our holiday in Oslo?' she asked. 'That day when we went to Bygdy, the beach, the young boys bathing naked in the water, a bunch of balloons climbing up into the sky?'He remembered, but decided to deny it.'Of course you remember. Above all you must remember the cross we drew in the sand, and said that the most important thing in our lives would always be telling the truth. Good Lord, I believed it, I really did believe that I had met a man who was as good as his word.'A quick gust of cold wind made them shiver.'Who are you?' she said. 'I try to understand, but I can't. I simply can't pin you down, my image of you cracks and breaks up, you become an incomprehensible creature that seems to thrive on deceiving others.''I can explain,' he said.Her response came with no hesitation at all.'If there is one thing you can never do it is to explain. I have followed in your footsteps and it has been like climbing down into a well where the stench at the bottom gets more and more putrid. I have realised that I am married to a man who doesn't exist, a shadow with a circulatory system and a brain that is nothing more than an invention, a figment of the imagination. It is intolerable to think that my child had a figment of the imagination for a father. Can you make me understand? You are driving me mad.''I have to know how you found me.''I come here and tell you that Laura is dead. You don't react, you say you feel sorrow, but all you ask about is how I found you.''You can think whatever you like. But I mourn the death of my child.''You ought to mourn the fact that you are who you are. It was my father who helped me. When Laura died he contacted Naval Headquarters and told them what had happened. He forced his way through all the barriers, I can hear his voice inside my head: A baby has died, my granddaughter. Her father is on a secret mission, but of course he has to be told about the tragedy that has befallen him. A baby has died, my granddaughter. Her father is on a secret mission, but of course he has to be told about the tragedy that has befallen him. There was silence. My father said that everybody seemed to be astonished. Jaws dropped on the faces of the entire Swedish high command. In the end a vice admiral informed my father that you no longer held a commission in the Swedish Navy. Then they became secretive, they couldn't go into details about why, they could only say that you were no longer enlisted. My father insisted that I personally should be given an explanation. The following day I went with him to Skeppsholmen. The vice admiral was there, and several other people, I can't remember who they were. They expressed their condolences. But when I asked them for an address so that I could send you a letter, they said that they didn't have one. My father was with me, he was standing behind my chair and put his hand on my shoulder when he heard that you were no longer in the navy. There was no mission, they knew as little about where you were as my father and I did. How do you think that felt? First I lost my baby, then I found out that I was married to a man who didn't exist. How do you think that felt?' There was silence. My father said that everybody seemed to be astonished. Jaws dropped on the faces of the entire Swedish high command. In the end a vice admiral informed my father that you no longer held a commission in the Swedish Navy. Then they became secretive, they couldn't go into details about why, they could only say that you were no longer enlisted. My father insisted that I personally should be given an explanation. The following day I went with him to Skeppsholmen. The vice admiral was there, and several other people, I can't remember who they were. They expressed their condolences. But when I asked them for an address so that I could send you a letter, they said that they didn't have one. My father was with me, he was standing behind my chair and put his hand on my shoulder when he heard that you were no longer in the navy. There was no mission, they knew as little about where you were as my father and I did. How do you think that felt? First I lost my baby, then I found out that I was married to a man who didn't exist. How do you think that felt?'He said nothing. He was searching feverishly for a way of escape. It must have been Welander, he thought. There's no other possibility. Perhaps he suspected that I would head for here.'I went home, and my father came with me. I was numb, but I was kept going by his fury. Especially after I gathered that he suspected it was you who had tried to kill him.''That's not true.''I would put nothing past you, Lars.'She used his first name. It felt as if she were using it to hit him.I can hit back, he thought. That is the ultimate escape route. I can kill her.He asked a question to give himself a breathing s.p.a.ce.'Whose is the boat?''Does it matter? It belongs to one of my father's friends.''I didn't know you could sail.''I learned when I was a child. When I realised where you might be hiding I decided to get a boat and come here. My father protested, but I paid no attention to him.''Was it Welander who told you where you could find me?''He came a few days after I'd been to Skeppsholmen. I didn't want to let him in at first, but he said he'd heard rumours about your disappearance, and that you had lied to the admirals about him. He also said he knew where you might be, that you used to row to a skerry when you were working together.'I didn't want to know at first, I never wanted to see you again. The first night after I realised what kind of a man you were I gathered together all your clothes, your overcoats, uniforms, shoes, and piled them up on the floor. The next day Anna fetched a rag-and-bone man who took the lot. I didn't even accept any money. I wanted you to cease to exist.'But my father talked me round. He said that you shouldn't be allowed to die in sin. He contacted Welander, who came round again a few days later. He had been talking to a police superintendent or maybe it was a parish constable from round here who said he thought you were on a skerry at the far edge of the archipelago.'I sailed into the archipelago then turned south. Somewhere round about Landsort I was becalmed, I had plenty of time to think. And I still ask myself: Why did you marry me if your only intention was to hurt me, to lie to me? Why do you hate me?'He gave a start. A shadow had moved on a high rocky ledge, but it wasn't Sara Fredrika. It was a bird, a crow that soared up and flew off northwards over the island. There wasn't much time. He needed to drive her along in front of himself instead of cowering in the face of her accusations.'The fact that I was dismissed from the navy is due entirely to a misunderstanding, which was due in turn to the fact that I was disgracefully slandered by Welander. I tried to protect him when he hit the bottle. Everything else is a pack of lies. He is getting his revenge for having shown me his weakness, because I saw his humiliation. He was lying on deck in a pool of vomit and had to be carried away. I couldn't tell you that I had been dismissed, that was too shameful, too much of a disgrace. I came here to think out a way of telling you about it. Not everything I have told you has been entirely correct, but there has always been a kernel of truth.'And what would that be?''My love for you. I came here in solitude to punish myself for not being able to tell you exactly how things were. I needed time, time to think, time to summon up courage.''But the letters? The inventions, the fantasies?'"The same thing: shame, disgrace.''How can I possibly believe you?''Look me in the eye.'She did as he asked. He could feel that he was starting to regain control, was able to regulate the distances.'What do you see?''A person I don't know.''You know me. We have been married for nearly ten years. We have been intimate.''If I come too close to you I'm frightened of getting burned. You give off a corrosive acid, all those untrue 'She broke off without completing the sentence.'What I understand least of all is why you tried to kill my father.'He felt an overwhelming urge to tell her the truth, that it was all those accursed Christmas dinners, his father-in-law's contempt for the naval commander who had married his daughter. But there was no place for the truth yet.'It wasn't me who attacked your father. I would never turn to violence.''You hit me, not long ago.''That was only because I had to stop you screaming.''Can't you tell the truth for once? Can't you try? Your lies are wrapping themselves round my legs like heavy weights.''I have told you the truth. I hid myself away here in order to think things over.'Fear was being batted back and forth between them, like the ebb and flow of never-ending waves. Occasionally he would glance up at the path. He knew his time was limited, and that sooner or later Sara Fredrika would wonder where he had got to.'I want you to go back home,' he said. 'I've been ordered to terminate my mission.''But you haven't got a mission. I heard the admiral say so himself: you are no longer a member of the Swedish Navy, you have no unfinished missions. I heard that with my own ears. Are you incapable of telling the truth?''You must understand that secrecy doesn't only apply to me. He wasn't able to say that I am still working on a task.''What are you doing on this skerry? I've been sailing all round these grey, barren islands, I've hardly set eyes on a single soul, here by the open sea everything is dead.''I'll tell you, even though I shouldn't. I have a wireless transmitter here, one of the inspired inventions of the engineer Marconi and Admiral Henry Jackson, for communications between ships and land, or from one ship's captain to another. We are conducting top-secret tests of a Swedish system, a variation of the ones the warring parties are using.''I don't know what you're talking about.''Invisible waves that travel through the air, that can be captured and interpreted. A secret language that will transform all aspects of war as it has been known until now. Every day at certain times I have to be stationed by the wireless in order to receive and transmit.'She considered what he had said.'Perhaps that is true,' she said. 'Show me round this island that you have made your home, show me these invisible waves that are dancing around in the air here. Show me something that is true. Show me where you live, in a cave or a hut.''You are right,' he said. 'One hut to live in, and another for my measuring equipment. I'll show you.'He racked his brains for a way out of this desperate situation. It was becoming clearer to him where he really belonged. It was on Halsskar with Sara Fredrika and Laura, that was where he was at home. For the first time in his life there was something he did not want to lose. He was a stranger to Kristina Tacker and her china figurines, in the cold and warm rooms in Stockholm. All the years he had lived with her had ceased to exist. That was the biggest lie, he thought, I could never understand or control that. We had nothing in common, we just came together in a fantasy of love.But not even that is true, he thought. I can only speak for myself. She must have felt something different. She has come here, not merely to expose a lie, but also to understand how she could have given me so much love.She aimed her light at a cold cliff face. It never became warm. I tried to tame her all the years we lived together.I failed. She stayed wild. The china figurines deceived me. She had more sides to her than I had ever suspected. Hidden behind her calm, almost apathetic exterior was something else.He recalled the Christmas market when she had intervened to stop a man hitting his child. He had not drawn the right conclusions from that. He ought to have realised even then that she was in fact a stronger individual than he was.

CHAPTER 188.

It was starting to get dark. They were freezing cold. He heard footsteps on the path. Sara Fredrika emerged from the hawthorn bushes.He wondered if she'd been waiting there, just as he used to hover out of sight.Sara Fredrika gave a start and stopped dead.'Who's she?'He did not answer. His first reaction was to head for the water. He could hijack the sailing boat and then vanish, straight out to sea, or to the south, to one of the German ports around Kiel, where he could seek asylum.Sara Fredrika was approaching now, and asked again who the woman at his side was.'I don't know,' he said.'Don't know?' Kristina Tacker said. 'Don't you even know who I am any more? Who's she? What do you get up to here? Do you ever say anything that's true?'Sara Fredrika took hold of him.'Who is she?'He could not answer. He was trapped. He did not have his sounding lead with him.Both women showered him with questions, who was this woman who had come from the sea, who was this woman clinging on to his arm? He said nothing, the trap had been sprung, it would soon be over and he had no idea how it would end.Sara Fredrika and Kristina Tacker did all the talking. But he was the one they were staring at, as Kristina Tacker grew more and more outraged and Sara Fredrika more and more desperate. The cat appeared from out of nowhere, it seemed to sense that a trial of strength was taking place and was waiting to witness the outcome. He tried once again to find a way out, to identify a weakness in what he was faced with. But all he could feel was weariness and an urge to give up.Somewhere in the rocks round about him was his father's face, his eyes would soon be liberated.The stone hands were hovering over his head.In the end, he told the truth: that was the only possibility left.'Her name's Kristina. She's my wife. I'm married to her.''But you said your wife was dead? And your child?'Kristina Tacker took a pace forward.'He said that I was dead?''Who are you?''I am his wife.''But that's impossible. His wife fell over a cliff. And the child was dragged down as well.''Well, he lied to you, whoever you are! I'm alive and I am married to him.'Kristina Tacker screamed and set off running along the path. She disappeared from view, but her screams bounced back and forth off the rocks.'Who is she?' asked Sara Fredrika again.'She's telling the truth. I am married to her, I have not yet concluded the divorce proceedings.''But you said she'd fallen over a cliff, and your daughter as well?''That was my first wife. I haven't told you everything about my life. I work on top-secret missions, and it's infectious, I end up by being top secret even to myself.'She backed away from him, he could see that she was frightened.'What's she doing here?''I don't know. She came here in the sailing dinghy.'Kristina Tacker came back. He tried to embrace her and calm her down, but she avoided his grasp.'I don't want you to touch me, never again.'She turned her back on him and started talking to Sara Fredrika. 'Who are you?''I live here with him.''With him?''Yes, I just said so. What's it got to do with you? It's my life, not yours.''But I'm the one who's married to him. Can't you hear what I'm saying?''He's not married. He lives here with me, and he's going to take me away to a new country. I want you to leave here.'Another voice joined in the argument, from the far distance, a baby crying. It was clearly audible in the silence. Kristina Tacker looked round wildly before she grasped the truth. She started shaking and then she collapsed.'It's my baby,' Sara Fredrika said. 'My daughter. She's called Laura.'Kristina Tacker started whimpering and crawled away, trying to force her way into the thorn bushes.'Is she out of her mind? She'll cut herself to pieces on the thorns.''She's ill,' he said. 'She's very ill. She needs help.'He tried to pull Sara Fredrika away, but she beat him off with enormous strength.'Don't you dare lay your hands on me. I don't know what's going on here, I'm hearing things that I refuse to believe. Don't you dare touch me, and don't touch her either.'Sara Fredrika squatted down by Kristina Tacker's side. Kristina Tacker was wrestling with the thorn bushes.Tobia.s.son-Svartman looked at his wife. She was like a wounded animal. He was the one who had pulled the trigger, but he had not been able to give her the coup de grace, coup de grace, he had only wounded her. Sara Fredrika pulled her away from the thorn bushes. Kristina Tacker did not resist. Despite the darkness he could see the blood running down her face from where the thorns had pierced her skin. She was hanging like a dead body in Sara Fredrika's powerful arms. he had only wounded her. Sara Fredrika pulled her away from the thorn bushes. Kristina Tacker did not resist. Despite the darkness he could see the blood running down her face from where the thorns had pierced her skin. She was hanging like a dead body in Sara Fredrika's powerful arms.He was motionless. The cat was still observing proceedings from a distance. Four metres, he thought. The shadows make it hard to be precise about the centimetres. But the cat is sitting four metres away from me. Kristina Tacker and Sara Fredrika and the baby are a few metres further away. But in fact the distance between me and them is infinite, and it is growing all the time. The lines have been cut and the current and the wind are propelling us in different directions.He was reminded of the ice. The open channels, people falling in and meeting their fate in the black cold of winter.But most of all he was reminded of the drift net he had seen the previous summer, when the sun's rays were beating down on the water, the drift net with all the dead ducks and fish. At that time he had interpreted it as a symbol of freedom. But he was not the net, he was one of the dead fish. What he had seen then was his own downfall.He started running along the path, running away. He stumbled and hit his face on a rock, cutting his lips. It seemed as if the whole skerry had made him its enemy and was attacking him.The sailing dinghy was at anchor in the inlet. He waded into the cold water and scrambled aboard. But the sail was furled tightly round the mast and a locked chain prevented him from unfurling it. The tiller was also locked: she had prepared for all eventualities, she knew him far too well to leave anything to chance. She had cut off his escape route even before they had started shouting at each other in the freezing cold water. He tried to break the chain with a hammer he found in one of the pigeonholes in the c.o.c.kpit. But it refused to yield, and he could see that he would break the tiller if he kept on trying. He threw the hammer into the sea and slumped on to the seat in the c.o.c.kpit. Everything was still on all sides.Beneath him, underneath Kristina Tacker's sailing dinghy, the depth was two and a quarter metres.

CHAPTER 189.

He spent the night in the c.o.c.kpit.Loneliness was the walls that encircled him. He had exchanged his wet clothes for hers that he had found in the cabin. He was waiting for the conclusion to all this while dressed in his wife's underclothes. As the long night drew to a close and light started to creep in, the rocks looked to him like stones waiting to be used for the building of a mighty cathedral.He had dozed off at one point during the night. He had dreamed about flotsam and jetsam. He had been walking along a beach, searching. The kelp seemed to be transparent, and the smell of mud very strong. Eventually he found what he was looking for, a splinter of wood from a stern. He was that splinter of wood, wrenched out of his context, drifting out of control.The first thought that occurred to him when he woke up was that the seabed inside him had slowly started to transform itself into an infinite, unmeasurable depth.I know how to set up a lie, he thought. But I cannot cope with living in the world that lies create. The impostor lives a life, but the deceit involved lives a different life.

CHAPTER 190.