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S t r i n d b e r g ’ s S t a r

JanWallentin

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13thMay1896.Aletterfrommywife,whohasreadinthenewspaperthat

aHerrStrindbergistojourneytotheNorthPolebyballoon.

Iadviseheroftheerror,thatitisthesonofmycousinwhointendstoriskhislifein

thecauseofagreatscientificdiscovery.(AugustStrindberg,Inferno,Purgatory)

Thatwhichisfaroff,andexceedingdeep,whocanfinditout?(Ecclesiastes7:24)

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* t h e i n v i t a t i o n

HisfacehaddefinitelysaggedanddespitealltheeffortsoftheTVmake‐upgirlnothingcoulddisguisethefact.Shehadtriedhard:fifteenminuteswithsponge,brushandpeach‐colouredmineralpowder.Now,aftershehadreplacedhispilotglasses,insteadofhavingblackringsunderhiseyeshehadpink.Itlookedunhealthyagainsthisgreycheeks.Shepattedhimgentlyontheshoulderandsaid:“That’sit,Don.Thepresenterwillcomeandfetchyousoon.”Thenshesmiledathiminthemirrorandtriedtolooksatisfied.Butheknewwhatshewasthinking.Einfarshleptehkrenk,alingeringsickness,that’swhatagingwas.Hisshoulderbagwasrestingagainstthefootoftheswivelchairandafterthemake‐upgirlwentout,Donbentoverandstartedrummagingaroundinitscontentsoftabletcontainers,hypodermicsandblisterpacks.Heextractedtworound20mgtabletsofdiazepam.Hesatupagain,placedthemonhistongueandswallowed.Inthefluorescentlightofthemirror,theminutehandofthewallclockmovedon.Fourminutespastsix.Themorningnewsdronedfromthemonitor.Elevenminutesuntilthefirstsofaguestsmadeanappearance.Therewasaknock,andashadowyfigureappearedinthedoorway.“Isthiswheretheydothemake‐up?”Donnoddedatthetallfigure. “I’monTV4next,”themansaid.“Sothegirlshadbetterputonenoughtolast.”HetookafewstepsoverthemottledgreyvinylfloorandsatdownnexttoDon.“We’reonatthesametime,aren’twe?”“Yes,lookslikeit,”saidDon.Theswivelchaircreakedasthemanleantcloser.“I’vereadaboutyouinthepapers.You’retheonewho’stheexpert,right?”“Notreallymyspeciality,”saidDon.“ButI’lldomybest.”Hestoodupandhookedhisjacketoffthebackofthechair.“Itsaidinthepapersyouknewaboutthiskindofthing,”saidtheotherman.

“Yes,well,theyoughttoknow,”saidDon.Hepulledonhiscorduroyjacketandjustashewasabouttoslingthestrapofhisbagoverhisshoulderhefeltthemangrabit.

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“Youdon’thavetobesobloodyfullofyourself.Iwastheonewhofounditall.Andbytheway…”Themanhesitated.“Ithinkthere’ssomethingyou’dbeabletohelpmewith.”“Really?”“It’s,um…”Themanglancedquicklyatthedoor,buttherewasno‐onethere.“There’sonemorethingIfounddownthere.Asecret,youmightsay.”

“Asecret?”WiththehelpoftheshoulderstrapthemanpulledDonalittlecloser.

“I’vegotitathomeinFalun,andI’dreallyappreciateitifyoucouldcomeand…”Hisvoicefadedaway.Donfollowedtheman’sgazetowardsthedoorwaywheretheprogrammepresenterwasstandingwaitingfortheminafrumpyclaretjacketandskirt.“Well…soyou’vegottoknoweachother,then?”Sheforcedastressedsmile.“Perhapsyou’dliketotalkmoreafterwards?”SheindicatedthewaytowardsthestudiocorridorandtheredOnAirsign.“Thisway,DonTitelman.”

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1 N i f l h e i m r

WitheverystepErikHall’srubberbootssankmoredeeplyintothegroundandhislegshadlostallfeelinglongago.Notmuchfurthernow,surely.Hehadalwaysbeenteasedabouthisheavybody,andwiththreedivingbagsslungoverhisbackitwashardlysurprisingthewaterloggedmossgaveway.Whatwassurprisingwashowquicklytheforesthaddarkenedsinceheslammedshutthebootofthecarinthelay‐by.Then,lookingoutovertheditch,theedgeoftheforesthadseemedsobrightandinviting.Now,afterafewhoursoflabouredwalking,amilkyfogwasdriftingthroughtheundergrowth,buthestillhadnoregrets.Whenheglimpsedthegladebeyondthelasttreeshecametoahaltandforamomentfeltuncertain.Itlookedsodifferenttoday,withathickveilofmisthoveringoverthedroopinggrass.Thenhecaughtsightoftheremainsoftheoldfence.Therottenblackstumpsstuckoutlikewarningfingersinfrontoftheslopethatleddowntothemineopening.HeswitchedoffhishandheldGPS,droppedhisloadofequipmentandstretchedouthiscompressedvertebrae,hisbackcreaking.Itwasferociouslycoldhere,justlikeyesterday,whenhehadmanagedtofindhiswaytotheabandonedmineforthefirsttime.Thestenchwasthesame,too.Hebreatheditinthroughhisnostrils:putridmeat,mouldycheese,thestinkofweek‐oldrubbish.Themisthadreducedthelighttoduskanditwashardtomakeoutanydetailsashetookthelaststepstowardstheprecipitousshaft,butoncehiseyeshadacclimatisedhesawthepitprops.Theybeganatadepthofaboutthirtymetresandsupportedtheshaft’swallsatunevenintervalsdownintotheapparentlybottomlesshole.Animageofgappy,blackenedteethflittedthroughhismind,likelookingintothemouthofaveryoldman.Hesteppedbackafewpacesandbreathedindeeplythroughhismouthacoupleoftimes,thinkingitwastimetogivehimselfapatontheback.Findingyourwaythroughtheundergrowthinthisgloomandgettingtotherightplaceagain,thathadtobeprettyskilful.UsingsatnavtomakeyourwayfromFaluntoanaddressoutinSundbornorSågmyrawashardlyanachievementcomparedwithfindingtherightspotmorethan5kilometresstraightoutintothewilderness–thatwassomethingelse.Most,ifnotall,abandonedmineshaftscouldbefoundmarkedindetailonmaps–thesurveyorsattheMiningInspectoratehadseentothat‐butthisone,thisopening,hadclearlybeenoverlooked.Andthistimehehaddraggedhiskitalongwithhim.

ItwaswhileErikHallwasslidingopenthezipofhisfirstdivingbagthathebecameawareofthesilence.Hecouldnotrememberexactlyhowlongagoitwas,butatfirst,whenhehadjustpulledoffthemotorway,hehadstillbeenabletohearthetraffic.Notespeciallyloudly,ofcourse,butenoughforhimtofeelthathewasnotcompletelyalone.Herememberedhearingthehammeringofawoodpecker,therustleofsmallcreatures,abirdflyingfrombranchtobranch.Butthen,afterthemisthadcomedownandhisloadhadbecomesoheavy,thenhehadhardlybeenabletohearanythingexcepthisownbreathingandthesharpcrackofbreakingsticksashestruggledthroughthethickeningundergrowth.Andnow–nothing.Well,perhapssomething.Thefaintbuzzingofsomefliesgatheringaroundhim,hopingtofind

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food.Well,theywouldbedisappointed.Thefirstbagcontainedonlyequipment:nylonrope,hooks,andbolts,anelectricdrill,fins,lifejacketandtorch.Andlastly:thedoublesidedtitaniumknifewithitsconcave,saw‐toothedcuttingedge.Whenhehadthrowneverythingoutontotheyellowinggrass,heopenedthebag’ssidepocket.InsideweretheFinnishprecisioninstrumentsinprotectivecases:adepthgaugetouseoncehehadsunkbelowthesurfaceofthewaterinthefloodedshaft,andaclinometertoenablehimtogaugetheheightandslopeofthemine’spassages.Hewouldhavetodowithoutacompass.Itwouldbeofnouseanywayintheironorerockbelow.Theflieshadincreased.Theyhoveredabouthisheadlikeacloudofsoot,buzzingaroundhimasheliftedtheheavymetalcylindersoutofthesecondbag.Annoyed,Erikwavedtheinsectsawayfromhismouthashebegantocheckthepressureinhistwinaircylinders.Wheneverythingwasassembledhecarefullyattachedthemtothesteelbackplate.Hefastenedthefirststageregulatorandboundthedivingequipmentwiththeinflatedlifejacket.Thenhetookafewquickstepsback.Thesootycloudfollowedhimatadistance.Balancingonthegravelhepulledoffhisgreenrubberbootsandthenhiscamouflagetrousers,followedbyhiswindproofjacket.Wearingonlyhisthermalunderwear,andwithblackinsectscrawlingoverhisfaceandneck,heopenedthethirdbag.Amongthecarabinersandsafetycatcheswasthebulkydrysuit–asevenmillimetretriple‐layeredblackneopreneskinspeciallydevelopedtowithstanddivinginfreezingwater.Hebreathedheavilyasthelowerpartofthesuitpuckeredroundhisknees.Thenhebentforwardandforcedtherubberreinforceddivingshoesoverhisheels.Grimacing,hestoodupagain,fittingfirsthislefthandthenhisrightintothelatexcuffs.Headjustedthesuitandfinallypulledontheblackfullfaceneoprenehood.Theonlyvisiblepartsleftforthefliestoattackwerehiseyesandtheupperpartofhischeeks.Swayingbackwardsandforwardsheadjustedthetelescopictorsotomaximumtoaccommodatehisbulgingstomach.

Erikpickedupthebundleoflifejacketanddivingequipmentanddraggeditthroughthemisttowardstheopeningofthemineshaft.Therancidfumesofrotteneggsalmostmadehimchangehismind,butoncehehadmanagedtoworktheparcelpasttheblockofstoneattheedgeoftheshaftthedecisionwasmade.Hequicklybeganloweringitdownwards.Forty,fiftymeters–hehadbeenabletoseethatfardown–butthelinejustkeptonplayingout.Itwasonlyafterseveralminutesthatthetensiononthelineindicatedthebundlewasfloatingsomewherewaydowninthedarkness.Hesecuredtheparcelbywrappingtheropeseveraltimesaroundasturdypinegrowingattheedgeofthealmostcirculargladeoftrees.Onhiswaybackthroughthemisthepickedupthebundleofboltsandcarabiners.Backattheshafthekneltdownawkwardly.Theharshwailofthepowerdrillbrokethesilenceatlast,andsoonhewasscrewingthefirstboltintotherock.Hepulledhard.Itwouldhold.Itwastimetoputontheclimbingharness.Hesnappedthestrapstogetheracrosshischestandfittedtheself‐brakingdescenderwhichwouldallowhimtoregulatethespeedofhisdownwardfall.ThenErikHallswunghimselfoutovertheedgeoftheshaftandbeganhisowndescent.

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AnyonesearchingtheInternetcouldfindblurredimagesofurbanexplorersinLosAngeleswhowriggledtheirwaymileaftermilethroughtheclaustrophobicseweragesystem.YoucouldfindstoriesaboutItalianswhocrawledamongratsandrubbishinantiquecatacombs,andRussianswhodescribedexpeditionstolong‐forgottenremainsofprisonsfromtheSovietera,hundredsofmilesunderground.AndthenthereweretheSwedeswholoweredthemselvesdeepdownintothepitchblackwatersofflooded,dilapidatedmineshafts.AgroupofthesecalledthemselvesBaggboDiversanddidtheirdivingaroundBorlänge.TherewasalsoGrufinGävle,theWärmlandUndergroundinKarlstad,andafewgroupsinBergslagenandUmeå.AndthentherewerethoselikeErikHall,whodivedsoloandpreferredtheirowncompany.Becausetheysharedtipsonequipmentandshaftsthatwereworthinvestigating,allthecountry’sminediversknewabouteachothers’existence,andyearinandyearoutthesamepeoplewereinvolved.People,well…withoutexceptionitwasonlymenwhotookpart.However,agroupofyoungwomenhadrecentlybegunpostingpicturesonthenetoftheirownminedives.TheycalledthemselvesDykeDivers.No‐oneseemedtoknowwheretheycamefrom,orwhotheyactuallywere,andtheyneveransweredanyquestions‐atleast,notthequestionsErikHallhadasked.Inthebeginning,whenhefirstvisitedthegirls’site,hehadfoundonlyafewgrainyphotos.Thenfilmsshowingadvanceddivinghadbeenaddedandyesterday,outoftheblue,therewasashottakeninamineshaftinDalarna.Thepicturehadshowntwowomenindivingsuitsinanarrowminepassage:palecheeks,bloodredlipsandshiningblackhairfallingovertheirshoulders.Behindtheirfacesyoucouldsee,sprayedinbluepaint,‘1stSeptember,depth166metres’.BelowthephotothegirlshadgivensomeGPScoordinatesmarkingaplacenearFalucoppermine.Thepositionwasonly20orsokilometresfromErikHall’ssummercottage:

Flooded18thcenturyshaftthatwefoundonthis/kopparberget1786.jpg/map,blessingtheFalunprovincialarchives.WeputPetzlboltsallthewaydowntothewater,beyondtheironwastetherearelongpassages.

Nocountryforoldmen;)

Theself‐brakingdescenderloweredhimsilentlyintothedepths.Hecouldstillmakeoutthecloudoffliesupattheopening,butdownhereinthedarkErikwassuspendedalone.Hewasbreathingonlythroughhismouthnowbecausetherottensulphurstenchwasmakinghimfeeldizzy.HecouldseewheretheDykeDivershadpositionedtheirboltsanditwascleartheyknewwhattheyweredoing,butashelookedarounditwaslikeslippingbackintoanothercentury:corrodedfixingsforladders,deadendpassageshalfblockedbycave‐ins,marksintherockfromwedgesandpickaxes.Hepushedhimselfofffromthewallandswungpastafewtwistedhooks,whichoncemusthaveheldtheminehoistingequipmentinplace.IntheflickeringlightfromhisheadlamphecouldseechalkedcalculationsinoldSwedishweightsandmeasurementsfromtheeighteenthcenturywhichhadlongsincelostallmeaning. Therewasnoroomformistakeswhenyouletyourselfdownamineshaftalone.Hetriedtopersuadehimselfthatitshouldn’tbetoodifficult‐averticaldropandthenwater.Afterall,theblackenedpitprops,theminecavity’sgapingteeth,hadwithstoodthepressurefromthewallsforhundredsofyears.

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Butevenso,oldercavitieswereneverreallysafebecausefirehadbeenusedtoblasttheorefromtherock,androcksminedwithfireoftenheldhiddencracks.Thentheboltwhichatfirstseemedsecurewouldnotonlyloosenbutcausetheoreitselftosplit,withtheresultthatoneofthethousandkiloblocksabovehisheadcouldsuddenlybreaklooseandhurtledownfromtheminewall.Howmuchfurtherwastheretogo? Erikbrokealightstickandletitfall.Theglowdisappeareddownintothedark,butthenheheardasplashmuchquickerthanhehaddaredtohope.Farbelow,thestickglitteredgreen,bobbingintheblackwater.Themeterindicatedadepthof73metresanditwasstartingtogetverycold.Frostgleamedontheironoreinthewallinfrontofhim,andthenextlightsticklandedonapieceoffloatingice.Whenhelookeddownhenoticedasmallplateauimmediatelyabovethefloodedarea.Itlaytentotwentymetrestotheright,sohewasforcedtoswinghimselfcarefullyalongtheroughblocksofstone.AminuteortwolaterErikwasstandingontheledgeandinfrontofhimwasthewater.

Hecroucheddownandbegantohaulinthelineattachedtothebundleofairtubesandthedivingvestwhichheknewwasfloatingouttheresomewhere.Itwasunexpectedlyleadentopull,seeminglywedgedintheice,butafterworkingatitstubbornlyhefinallymanagedtogeteverythingupontothenarrowledge.Nowcamethemostimportantpart.HetookoutasmallcanofredmetallicspraypaintfromthelegpocketofhisdrysuitandinafewquickmovementssprayedalargeEandaW.BeneaththelettersErikHallwrote‘7thSeptember,depth90metres’.Hetookouthisunderwatercamera,helditatarm’slengthandtookafewpictures,thenlookedatthescreen.Hissignaturecouldbeclearlyseenontherockbehindhishead.Herealisedsuddenlythathewantedtogetintouchwiththosegirls.Hewrenchedofftheneoprenehoodandranhisfingersthroughhishair.Thatwasbetter.Afterafewmorephotoflashesheviewedtheresultsonthecamera’sscreen.Thedamphadmadehisfairhaircurly.Hishairwasthinningalittle,perhaps,nowhewasinhisthirties,butno‐onewouldreallynotice,andthedarkcirclesunderhiseyesgaveadramaticimpression,hethought.Asforthedoublechin,thatcouldprobablybeinterpretedasshadow.Eriksankbackonhisheelsandthought.Thiswasactuallyincrediblystupid.No‐oneknewhewashere,andeveniftheincreasingiceturnedoutnottobeaproblem,whatcouldherealisticallyexpecttofindoncehehaddiveddownunderthewater?Poorvisibility,nochartofthepassages‐hedidnotevenknowhowdeeptheminewas.Perhapsfindingtheshaftandtakinghimselfdowntothisledgewasenoughtorousethegirls’interestandgetthemtorespond,oncehehadsentthemthepictureswithhissignature?Thenhepulledhimselftogether.Hehaddraggedthisdamnedequipmentthroughtheforestformorethananhourandsomewheredowntherebeneathhim,atadepthofahundredandsixty‐sixmetres,theremustbesomekindofdrypassagewherethegirlshadbeenabletostandandspraytheirmarks.

Erikstrappedhisfinsoverthetabsontheheelsofhisrubberdivingshoes,struggledintothedivingvestwithitsheavycylindersandtightenedthetubeoftherotatingintakevalve.Heinsertedtheregulatorintohismouth,tookafewtestbreathsandthenlethimselffallbackwardsintotheblackwater.

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Theneonyellowropefastenedroundhiswaistsnappedoffashardfromthepieceoffloatingiceasitfollowedhimunderthesurface.Thelifelinewasconnectedtothelastboltintheminewallandhepresumeditwould,asalways,helphimfindhiswaybackifhelosthiswayinthemurkywater.Mostofthelightfromhisheadlampwasswallowedupbythedarkwalls,butdespitethisthebeamreachedquitesomeway.Undertheicethemine’swaterwasclearerthanhehadhopedandhecouldseeperhapstenmetresinfrontofhim.Butthatcouldsoonchange.Therecouldbedifferentlayersofwaterfurtherdown,andsiltcouldbestirredupandreducevisibilitytotwentyorthirtycentimetres.Hisweightbeltpulledhimslowlydeeper.Howcoldcoulditbe?Belowfourdegrees?Hemustremembertokeepmoving.Hedrummedhisfingersagainsttheneopreneinsidehisdivinggloves.Ifhishandsbecamecoldandnumbasimpletangleoflineswouldbeenoughtodrownhim.Thentherewasasuddenflashfromsomethingmetalcaughtinthenarrowbeamoflight.Itmusthavebeensomedistanceaway.Pushingofffromthewalloftheshafthepropelledhimselfoutintotheblackspace.Thelinefollowedhimthroughthewaterlikeatail.Thenheswitchedonhisyellowtorchanditsbeamtogetherwiththeraysfromhisheadlampfounditswaydownwards.Thebottomoftheshaftbecamevisible.Oncoarsesandstoodacistern,atleasttwometreshigh,itscopperrivetsreflectingthelightback.Heranthebeamfromhistorchalongitsside.Therewassomethingelsemadeofmetal,sharptriangles.Hepulledoutthecirclesaw.Upaboveonlanditmighthavescreeched,butdownhereitseemedtorotatesoundlesslyonitshub.Ashemovedhisglovedhandhehappenedtoknockoverakindofwoodenpump.Itcreatedacloudofdustinthesand.There,alittlefurtheron,laytheremainsofpalletsusedtocarrytheoreoutofthepassages.Erikmovedhisfinscarefully,swimmingweightlesslyforwardoversomewheelbarrowsandaleaningpickaxe.Theflooroftheshaftwaslikeamuseuminthedark,witheverythingpreservedasithadlookedthedaythelighthadbeenshutoutforthelasttime.Hisunderwatercameraflashed.Thereweresledgehammersandironapplianceswithpeelingpaint,acorrodedcrusher,drillsandmortisechisels,splitwoodenpipesforpumpingupwater.Andoverthere…anarrowgaugerailwaywhichdisappearedintothedarkness.Eriklethisbodytosinkdownandlandbesidetherails.Lookingatthemanometerheread21metresbelowthesurface.Eventakingintoaccountagentleascenttoavoidgettingthebends,hehadalmostenoughairleftinthecylindersforanotherhour.Hestretchedouthisthree‐fingeredgloveandbegantoslowlytopullhimselfalongtherails.Therailwaytrackledhimawayfromthetoolsandmachinesoftheminefloor.Atangleoflineswhichoncemusthavebeenslungalongthewallsoftheshaftnowwrithedlikeeelsthroughthewater.Heglidedunderthem,floatingjustabovethesand.Bubblesfromthebreathingapparatushissedindeepbreathsbehindhisneck.Thenhehadthefeelinghewasswimmingthroughawedge‐shapedsection,thesidesofthewallscomingcloserandcloser.Hesloweddownbykeepingtheedgesofhisfinsagainsttherails.Oncehehadcometoastandstillheshonethelightfromhislampsovertheshaftwalls.Thatwaswhenhecaughtsightofatimberedopeningintoaminepassage,wheresomeonehadfastenedapieceofyellowmaterialtoabarb.Erikpulledhimselfafewmoremetresfurtheron.Insteadofmaterialhangingtherebytheentrancetothetunnelhesawapieceof7mmbrightyellowneoprene,withtracesoftripleseams,intendedtobeclearlyvisibleunderthewater.Thegirlsmusthavecutupanolddrysuit

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touseasdivingmarkers.Theentrancetothepassagewasperhapsthreemetershighandinthecentrestoodarustyironoretruck,buttherewasplentyofroomaboveit.Erikswamcloserandcouldseethattheminetunnelcontinuedforatleasttenmetres.Thiscouldbethebeginningofalongsystemcoveringseveralkilometres,withnewlocationsandshafts,orsimplyadead‐end.Butthiswastheroutethegirlshadtaken,andsomewherealittlefurtheralongtheyhadbeenabletofreetheirhairandstandondryground.Helookedatthemeter;50minutes’divingtimeleft.WhenErikhadclumsilywriggledovertherustedtruckhewasmetbyatunnelfloorcoveredinicecrystals.Longpointedstalagmitesoffrozenwatergrewupallalongtherailslikethistlesonarailwayembankment.Hepulledhimselfalongmetrebymetrethroughthenarrowpassage,buttherewassomethingstrangeaboutthewaytherailsandthetunnelfloorhadbeguntoslope.Itslopedsomehow…upwards?Erikgotouttheclinometer.Itwastrue,thepassagehadactuallybeguntoascend,andquitesignificantly.24degrees,hecalculated.Thatmeant…hedidsomequickmentalarithmeticwhileheslowlyswamonundertheoverhangingrock.Eighty,ninetymetresmorewasallitwouldtaketobringhimabovethefloodlevel,andafterthatthepassageoughttobedry.Orratherpassages,plural,becausenowhehadcometoafork.Twoopeningsleadon,onetotherightandtheothertotheleft,andbytherightopeningastripofyellowneoprenewashanging.Nodoubtthegirlshadwantedtomakesuretheycouldfindtheirwayback.Erikranhisglovedhandalongthestripandthenheswamslowlypastitandintotheright‐handpassage.Tenmetres,twenty,thirty,thenthespacebegantonarrow.Ifhestretchedouthisarmsonbothsideshewouldsoonbeabletobrushthefrostyorewithhisfingertips.Atfortymetreshisshouldersgrazedtherocksoneachside.Atforty‐fivemetrestwoironsupportsformedanarrowdoorway.Eriktwistedhisbodysidewaysandmanagedtosqueezethrough.Bynowhehadcomefiftymetresin.Thereshouldbeatthemostthirtyleftuntilthepassagebecamedry,buthecameupagainsttwomoreprops,soclosetogetherthathewouldhavetogetoneofthemoutofthewayifhewastogoanyfurther.Hedirectedthetorchlightatthepropmountingsontheleft,intheroofandonthefloor.Itwouldbeimpossibletomovethem,butthefootingsontherightprophadrustedawayandatthetop,whiletwoboltsseemedscrewedtightlyinplace,twohadbecomeloose.Hegrabbedholdoftherightpropandmoveditwarily.Itgavewayafewmillimetres.Whatifhereallyforcedit‐whatwouldhappenthen?Erikhungsuspendedovertheicecrystalsonthefloor,growingmoreandmorenervous.Thenheaimedthebeamfromthetorchoutintothedarkasfarasitwouldreach.Andthere,asifmockinghim,hungonemoreyellowstripnearthetunnelroof.Somehowthegirlshadsqueezedtheirwaypast.1stSeptember,depth166metres…buttheDykeDiverswerethinner.Erikshooktheproponcemore.Thistimeitmoved,suddenly,awholetencentimetres,andasitmoveditdrewwithitalandslideofpebblesandgravelwhichinaninstantturnedthewateracloudyblack.Instinctivelyherolledhimselfintoaballatthethoughtoftheroofcollapsing.Whenthevisibilityhadcleared,heslowlyrealisedhowclosethetunnelhadcometocollapsing.Gentlyhereleasedtheprop,turnedhislargebodyaroundandbegantoswimback.Whenhehadreturnedtotheplacewherethetunneldivided,heusedthetipofhisfinstobringhimselftoastop.Infrontofhimlaythenarrowpassagebackouttotheminefloor,theshaftwall

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andtheforest.Orwhynot…Hehungthere,suspended.ThenErikHall’stwolightsourcesswungbackandilluminatedtheopeningoftheleft‐handpassage.Stillfortyminutesofairleft.Therewastime.Whenheswamintotheleft‐handpassagehenoticedthatthis,too,slopedslightlyupwards,andthistimeheswameasilybetweenthepairofprops.Hecoveredninety,possiblyahundredmetresinonlyafewminutes.Ahundredandtwenty,ahundredandthirty–itcouldnotbefarnow,notwiththisangleofincline.Erikmovedhisfinsfastwhilehepulledhimselfalongtherails.Thelightfromhisforeheadandthetorchfollowedthewalls,seekingoutimpediments.Hewassoengrossedincheckingthesidesthatitwasonlywhenhewasonlyafewmetresawayfromitthathediscoveredtheirondoor.Itwasrustedallover,withgapingholes,andhungonlopsidedhingesoutfromtherockwall.Throughoneofthegapshecouldseethatsomeonehadsecuredthehingewithabolt.Erikshonethelightoverthefragilebrownmetal.Whatwasthat?Somekindofcalciumdepositonalevelwithhisface.Heswamalittlecloser.No,itwasn’tcalcium.Itwaschalk.Somethinghadbeenwrittenonthedoor.Inlargeunevenletters,awordthattohimwascompletelymeaningless:

NIFLHEIMR

Niflheimr‐perhapsthatwasthenameofthemine?Whateveritwas,thisdoorwasclosed.Butperhaps…Erikputhisglovedfingersagainsttherustysurfaceandgaveitacautiouspush.Thedoormoved,ifonlyslightly.Hepushedagain,harder,andthroughthewaterhecouldhearthehingescreak.Hehadbeencarefulwiththeprops,butsurelythiswasnotaload‐bearingconstruction?Itwasonlyadilapidatedirondoor,afterall.Eriktookadeepintakeofairfromthetubesandshovedashardashecould.Withagratingsoundthedoorswayedasthehingescameloosefromtheirfixingsintherock.Initsfallitbroughtwithitacloudofstonesandsandandthewaterclouded.Hemustgainvisibilityagain,beabletosee,feltpanicatnotbeingabletosee.Hegrabbedholdofthepassagewallsandpushedhimselfforwardwithfullforce.Erikhadnotimetoseethestairsbehindtheirondoorandhisforeheadslammedagainstthefirststep,rippingoffhisdivingmask.Hefelttheicywateragainsthisnakedfaceandsearchedinvainforthemouthpiecewhichhadbeenrippedout.Hehadnoair.Noair!Heheldhisheadupwithallhisstrength,asifthatwouldhelp–andsuddenlyfeltthathisfacewasabovethesurfaceofthewater.Then,whenheinstinctivelydrewinairthroughhismouthandnose,thereitwasagain,thestench.Hehadtohyperventilatetostophimselfthrowingup.Erikcrawledupthenextfewstepsandcollapsed.Breathethroughyourmouthnow,throughyourmouth…Slowlyhisbreathingcalmeddownandheadaptedtobreathingthroughhismouth.Itwouldbealrightafterall.Hepeeredupatthedrypassageahead,turnedoverontohisback,andrested.

When,afterawhile,Eriktriedtositup,henoticedtherewasnoslackintheropeattachedtohisbelt.Hislifelineuptothesurface,thequickestwayout,musthavebecomewedgedunderthefallendoor.

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Leveringhimselfagainsttheedgeofthetopstep,hetriedtopullitfree.Itwasimpossible,theropewouldnotbudge.Therewasnochoice.Hegotouthistitaniumknifeandturnedthetoothedsidedown.Withafewpowerfulmovementshesawedtheropefree.Perhapsitwouldbefine.Hewouldprobablybeabletofollowtheropeanyway,asheswambackoutthroughthepassages.Alittlevoiceinsidehimsaidnow,immediately,thisinstant.But…surely,sincehehadcomethisfar?Hecouldbreathe,afterall,andtheremustbeatleastthirtyminutesofairleftinthecylinders.Thatwouldbemorethanenoughtogethimbackuptothesurface,surely?Thevilestenchmadethinkingdifficult.Erikturnedhisheadlampawayfromthewaterandthestairsandhadhisfirstlookintothetunnel.Itledon,confinedanddamp,intotheblackness.Hestoodupandbeganwalking.Thewallswerecrackedandunevenfromthefiresthathadblastedthetunneloutoftherock,andnowthetunnelwasdividingagain.Hechosetoturnright.Thentherewasanotherfork,butheretheright‐handtunnelwasfilledwithstones,soithadtobetheleft‐handone.Thenrightagain,andhereitdividedintothree,oneofwhichwasadeadend.Hereturnedtothefork,butwherewasleft,andwhichdirectionhadhecomefrom?Allaroundtherewasthesmellofdecayanddisintegration.“It’sthesmellofcorpse,”heheardhimselfwhisper,butthenrappedhistorchhandlehardagainstthewalltodriveawaytheechoofhiswords.Hewascertainheshouldturnlefthere.Erikcroucheddownandmovedevenfurtherintothelabyrinth.Hewasunsurewhenitbegan,butnowtheicyorewasslopingsharplydownwards.Hemusthavegoneatleastforty,fiftymetresdeeper,buthadstillnotreachedthewater.Perhapsthefloodedareaswereatdifferentlevelsindifferentpartsofthemine?Hisdivingwatchblinkedtotellhimhehadwalkedforhalfanhour,buthisbodytoldhimitmusthavebeenlonger.Itwasgettingincreasinglycolder,andhisbreathwasturningtovapour,andtherewaslessairdownherethanhethought.Hehadtakenacoupleofrestsandopenedthevalveinthebreathingapparatus,butevensohewasgettingmoreandmoreconfused.Theminepassageseemedtohavechanged,hethought.Itbegantolookmorelikeanaturaltunnelintoacave.Therewerenomoremarksfromthemineworkings,onlyclustersofstalactiteshangingdownfromthelowroofofrock.Christ,itwasfreezingnow,abitterchillthatpenetratedeventhethreelayersofhisdrysuit.

Whatifhenevergotoutagain?Howlongwouldittakebeforeanyonefoundhim?AgainErikHallrammedhistorchagainstthewall.Therayoflightflickered,andthenslowlyreturned.Howlongbeforeanyoneevenmissedhim?No‐oneknewhehadcomedowninthisshaft.Andwhowouldbotherlookingforhim?Forsomereasonhestartedtothinkaboutwhathewouldleavebehindhimintheisolatedcottage.Theextentofhisfamewasthreeoldnewspaperarticleshehadsaved.OnewasafewcentimetreslongandsaidthatErikHallhadscoredelevenpointsinabasketballmatchinhisschoolteam.Onewasaphoto,takenwhenthenewspaperKurirenhadvisitedDala‐El,althoughnotmuchofhimcouldbeseen.Andthentherewastherealtriumph,ashortquotefromanationalpaper,Aftonbladetitself,whentheyhadrunastoryonesummeraboutthemineinFalun.Allhisfacecouldbeseeninthatone.Ohyes,hisface.DykeDivers.Erikslowedtoahaltandashisfeetstoppedmovingheunderstoodthatthisreallymustbethe

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end.Helookedathismeter–twohundredandtwelvemetresdown.Hehadreachedalmostfiftymetresdeeperthanthegirls.Hisrigidfingerspulledoutthespraycanandscrawledwithashakinghandanewsignatureonthewall:E‐W.Hethoughtforawhileandthenadded‘212metres–adextremum’.Aniceexpression,eventhoughhehadseenitonTV.Adextremum.Attheend,assumingtheyhadgotthetranslationright.Finallyhetookafewpictureswithhisunderwatercamera.Thistimehehadtokeephisneoprenehoodonbecauseofthecold.WhenhelookedatthephotosinthecamerascreenEriksawthathiseyeswereswollenandbloodshot.Hemightbefeelingdizzy,butnotenoughtobeunabletorecognisethefirstsignofoxygendeficiency.Hehadtoturnback.Heletthebeamfromthetorchsweeparoundthenarrowwallsonelasttime.Suddenlytherewasaflash.Hetookastepback.Oncemorethelightwasreflectedback.Somethingmetallic–anotherdoor,perhaps?Turnaround,or…Yes,itwasanotherirondoor,thesameasbefore.Samebolttoo,ontheinside.Same…chalk?

NÁSTRÖNDU

Thethickairstreamedintohislungsthroughhisopenmouth.Náströndu?Well,whatdiditmatterwhatwaswrittenontherustymetal,becausehehadmadeuphismindnow.Hewould...Hegavethedooralightshove.Itgavewayinstantly,swingingwideopenonitsscreechinghinges.Oncehehadgainedcontrolofhisbreathingagainhepluckedupthecouragetolookhesitantlythroughtheopening.There,ontheotherside,astaircasewoundsteeplydownwards.Fivemoreminutes.Eriksethisdivingwatch.Hisrubberdivingbootscreakedashecreptdownthestairs,onestepatatime.Thestaircasewoundahalfturnasitdisappearedintothedarkness.Atthebottomhecametoavault,openingoutinto…well,whatwouldyoucallit?Acrypt?No,acavern.Cavernwastherightword,alargenaturalcaverntwentymetreshigh,atleast.Waterwastricklingfromtheroofhighabove,aslowdrip,dripintoapool,andinthemiddleofthepoolalargeboulderroseupabovethesurface.Restingontheboulder–whatwasthatontop,akindofsack?Well,inthatcaseitcouldn’tbeacavernafterall,itmustbeyetanotherminechamberwithsomeequipmentleftbehind.TheairwasthickandevenbreathingthroughhismouthErikcouldnotavoidthestench.Justaquicklookround,andafewpictures.Hemovedwarilybutevensohisfeetcrunchedonthegravelandcreatedanecho,crunchedagainandtriggeredanotherecho.Hestopped,wantingthesilencetoreturn.Thelightfromhisheadlampandtorchsweptoverthewalls.Totherightthecopperoreglintedallthewayuptotheroofofthecave.Andtotheleft?Erikstartedwhenhesawsomethingthatlookedlikeadoorway,butwhenhereachedoutandranhishandalongtherockwallhefoundhehadbeenfooledbyshadowsfromthescoresaminerhadcarvedintotheorelongago.Nodoorway.Thiswastheend.Timetoturnaround.Hedirectedthelightonelasttimetotheleftbefore…butthereitwasagain!Thesameunevenchalkmarks,butthistimewhoeverhaddoneithadtakenthetroubletowritemorethanoneword.Erikcouldhardlymakeoutthewordsintheunevenrowsoftext.Hetookouthiscamera.

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Itflashedandhelookedalittledoubtfullyatthescreen.Thegirlswerenevergoingtobelievethis.Whenhereturnedtothestaircaseitoccurredtohimthathemighttakebackasouvenir.Somethingfromthesackperhaps,restingoverthereontheboulderinthepool?Thatwouldbetheeasiestthing.Thenextmomenthefeltthecoldashewadedoutintotheblackwater.Whenhefinallyreachedthesackontheboulderthelightfromhisheadlamprevealedthatitwascompletelycoveredinblackandgreythreads.Anoldnet.Erikremovedhisglovesandtriedtoliftoffthenet.Itwasheavyanddisgusting,disintegratinginthewater.Ashestartedtopullatthethreadshecaughtsightofsomethingwhiteentangledinthenet,akindoftool,hethought.Hetookholdofitshandletotakeacloserlook.Itfeltasifitweremadeofsomekindofmetal.Thehandleseemedtohavefastened.Hefeltalongthesmoothmetalandfounditwasboundtwice–nothreetimes–asifitweretiedontosomething.Erikopeneduptheconcaveedgeofhistitaniumknifeandcutawkwardlythroughthefirstbinding.Itsnapped.Snapped?Wasitsooldithadpetrified?Hegotholdofthesecondbindingandcutagain.Therewasasecondsharpsnapandnowthewholesackstartedtomove.DespitetheicycoldErikfeltawaveofheat,likeafever,runthroughhisbody,buthehadtofinishthetask.Hecutthroughthethirdbinding.Snap–itwasdone.Whenthehandlecameawayhesawthatitbelongedtosomethingheatfirstthoughtwasalongwhitekey,butwhenthetorchlightflickeredovertheobjecthesawthatitwasinfactacross.Averystrangecross.Ithadthehandleandthecross‐piece,butatthetopwasaroundeyelet,likeahead.Couldtherebesomethingelseunderthenet?Eriktookholdofthetangleofthreadswithhisbarehandsandtriedtopushthemasidetoreachthecontentsofthesack,butthethreadsseemedtobesewnon.Hetookafirmergripandtugged.Fartoolateherealisedhehadtuggedtoohard.Theentiresackcameawayintohisarmsandhestaggeredhelplesslybackafewstepsunderitsweightbeforeittoppledhimovercompletely.Hefellbackwardsandhisheadwentundertheicywaterofthepool.Hefloundered,gaspingforair…Air!Whenatlasthemanagedtogethimselfintoasittingpositionandcouldseeagain,thelightfromtheheadlampfellontosomeoneelse’sface.Paperthinskinstretchedaroundthetwostaringeyesofawoman,andabovehernose,inherforehead,gapedaholeasbigasacoin.ThenErik’shandnudgedanotherhandunderthewater,andhefeltthreesawn‐offstumps.Theywerenotbindingshehadcutthrough.Theywerefingers.InstinctivelyEriktriedtomovebackwardsbuttheheadofthewomanbobbedafterhimasifshewereadoll.Hepulledthebodytowardshimagain,tryingtocomprehend.Whathehadthoughtwasabundleofthreadswasinactualfactthecorpse’slonghair.Then,ashehappenedtobreathethroughhisnosebymistake,hetookinthesmellofherbodythroughthestench.Thewomansmelledofbloodandironandthesummerwarmthofabarnwall.AsmellErikcouldplaceimmediately.ShesmelledofFaluredpaint.

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1 4 E b e r l e i n

Thevilla’sfrontdooropenedintoawideentrancehallwithlow‐hangingchandeliers.TheglowfromtheimitationcandlesmadeDonthinkofacavewithstalactites,butinsteadofroughgranitethewallsherewerelinedwithinoilpaintings.TherewasanauraofdustandNationalRomanticism:Zorn’snudesatthewater’sedge,Liljefors’distantflyingbirds,andthemainattraction,apaintingbyCarlLarsson,centrallyplacedabovethegrandiosemarblestaircase.Itdepictedfiguresinanarchway,agirlwithasunshadeandtwoflaxen‐hairedchildreninfrock‐coats,andbelowitthetitle:‘MyLovedOnes’.Onatraybeneathagildedmirrorlayafewletters,stampedwiththeGermaneagle.Oneofthetwomen,theonewhocalledhimselfEberlein,hadlinkedhisarmthroughDon’sandwasnowleadinghimoverthecreakingparquetfloor.ItwasprobablyhisgreycomplexionthatmadeDonputhiminhissixties,buthewasstartingtodoubtthatnowbecausetheGermanmovedaslithelyasacatbesidehim.Hisbodywasslimandwiryunderhiselegantsuit,histhinshoulderssloped,andonhispointednoseheworeapairofanti‐reflectionglasses.Themouthbelowtherimlessglasseswasatouchtooredandhislipsseemedtohavefrozeninaself‐absorbedsmile.Aheadofthemthesecondman,whoresembledatoadmorethananythingelse,hadalreadyreachedhalfwayupthemarblestaircasewithEvaStröm.Donwatchedasthelawyer’shandslidalongthewhitevarnishedbanisterforthelastfewstairsuptothefirstfloorbalustrade.NeitherofthetwoSecurityPoliceofficersseemedtohaveanyintentionofgoingfurtherintothehouse,andthelastthingDonnoticedasEberleinledhimuphighenoughtolookdownintotheentrancehallwasthebaldingoneslowlylightingacigarette.

ToadledthemthrougharowofairyfirstfloorroomsthatcouldhavefeaturedinabrochureforSvensktTenn.Thenapinespiralstaircasewounduptoanunlitcorridor,atthefarendofwhichwasapairofcloseddoubledoors.Eberleintookouttwominutekeys,whichmusthavebeenhandedovertohimbythebaldingSecurityPoliceofficer.HeunlockedDon’shandcuffsandgentlymassagedhiswrists.TheGerman’sbodyexudedastrongfragrance.Donheardtheliltingvoiceclosetohisear.“Ihopeyouunderstandyouhavenothingtobeworriedabout.Thiswillbejustacoupleoffriendlyquestions.Anexchangeofinformation,ifyoulike.”TheGermantouchedhimlightlyonthearm.“Thisway.”

Thedoubledoorsledintoavaultedlibrary.Therighthandwallwascoveredinshelvesfromceilingtofloor,withendlessrowsofblackbookspines,endingincarpetingthickenoughtoabsorbeverysound.Itwaslikebeingcocooned,thoughtDon.Inthecentre,underglasslamps,stoodadarkvarnishedtableandsomechairs.EberleinindicatedtoDontositdown.Thechairwasupholsteredingreenleatherwithbrassstuds,anditcreakedasDonloweredhimselfontoit.Hunchingover,hedrewthebagonhiskneesclosertohim.Thenheheard

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someonebehindhim,Toadnodoubt,lockingthedoors.WithanintakeofbreathwhichsoundedslightlytenseEvaStrömalsotookherplaceatthetableandbeganshufflingherpapers.“Now,thisisgoingtobeapurelyinformalconversation,”Eberleinbegan,brushingagainstDon’shunchedbackashewalkedbehindhim.ThelibrarycocoonseemedtocloseinonhimandDonfeltEvaStrömtryingtorousehimwithalittleshove.Whenhecontinuedtobesilent,sheansweredforhim.“Wedon’tunderstandwhatkindofconversationyoumean.”Eberleinpulledoutthechairontheoppositesideofthetable,adjustedhisdarktrouserlegsandsatdown.Heinterlockedhisfingersinfrontofhimandfrombehindtheanti‐reflectionglassesdirectedapairofyellowish‐greyandverydeepseteyesdirectlyatDon.“FirstofallIwanttowelcomeyoutoVillaEkarne,nowusedbytheGermandiplomaticmission.”“SothisisanassignmentfortheAmbassador?”askedEvaStröm.AswiftsmilecrossedEberlein’sface.“TheAmbassadoriswhatyoumightcallagoodfriend,butIpersonallydidn’tarriveinStockholmuntilthisafternoon.AndasIsaid,Iwouldbegrateful...”HeindicatedEvaStröm’spen. “…gratefulifwecouldkeepthisconversationasinformalaspossible.”EvaStrömhesitatedmomentarily,thenshruggedhershouldersandputdownherpen.“I’mheretoaskafewquestionsonbehalfofafoundation,”saidEberlein.“ThereiskeeninterestinGermanytohavethiscaseproperlyinvestigatedfor,shallwesay,historicalreasons.”“AGermanfoundationreceivinghelpfromtheSwedishNationalSecurityService?”EvaStrömqueried.”Yes,forabriefmeetinginallcordiality.”Eberleinsmiledagain,butthistimethesmiledidnotreachtherestofhisgreyingface.“Inthiscasewewillallwinifwecooperate.”“IfindithardtobelievethattheprosecutorinFalunknewthepurposeforthisvisit,”saidEvaStröm.“Icanassureyouithasallbeenhandledcorrectly.”“IfthisisaboutErikHall’sdeath...”“It’snotonlyaboutthat,”saidEberlein.“I’mmoreinterestedinfindingoutexactlywhatErikHallbroughtoutofthatcavewithhim.”TherewasamagnetismintheGerman’seyesbehindhisglasseswhichmadeitdifficultforDontolookaway.“DidErikHallmentionadocumenttoeitherofyou,oranobjecthehadfounddowninthemine,apartfromthemissingcross?”“Hehas...”EvaStrömbegan,butwasinterruptedbyacroakingsound.Donswallowed,annoyed,andtriedtocontrolhisvoice.“Andhowwouldthatknowledgebeofbenefityou?”“That,HerrTitelman,isaverylongstory.”AcoughmadeEberleincastasidelongglancetowardsToad,whohadseatedhimselfonastoolwithhisbackleaningagainstoneofthebookshelves.“Fartoolong,”Eberleinrepeated.Heseemedtobewaiting,butwhenDonsaidnothingmore,hetriedagain:“Thethingis,thecrossthatErikHallfoundpurelybychanceisanobjectwehavegoodreasontobelievebelongstous.Youcouldsaythateverythingthatwasinthatmineisaclueinahistoricalriddlewhichthefoundationhasspentmanyyearstryingtosolve.NowErikHallhappenstohaveleftusandyouseemtobetheonlyonewhocantakethisfurther.”

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“IfinditveryhardtounderstandwhyyouthinkIshouldbeabletohelpyou,”saidDon.TherewasanirritatedintakeofairfromToadinthegloom.“IonlymetErikHallonce,”continuedDon,hisvoicehoarse.“AndtheonlyobjectIknowanythingaboutisthatcross.OtherwiseallIknowiswhatI’vereadinthenewspapers.”“It’sashametohavetobegintheconversationthisway,”saidEberlein.“Oh?”saidDon.“Yes,becauseasfarasIcansee,youarenottellingthetruth,”saidtheGerman.Donfidgetedinhischair,pretendingtostraightenhisjacket.“Well,let’sstartagain.AsIunderstandityouhadlongtelephoneconversationswithErikHalltheweekbeforehedied,andwe’vefoundentriesonWall’sharddrivesayinghehadfoundatleastsomekindofdocumentdownthereinthemine,andthathe’dmentionedittoyou.”“I’mnotsureaboutthat,”saidDon.“WehavealsofoundoutthatErikHalltalkedaboutsomekindof‘secret’hebroughtoutoftheminewithhim.Whetherthatreferstothedocumentorsomeotherobject,wedon’tknow.”“Somethingelseapartfromthecross?”Itwasthelawyer’svoice.“That’swhatwehavetravelledheretodaytoclarify,”saidEberlein.DondirectedaglanceatToad,whowassittingwithhiswidefacetiltedupwards,lookingattheceiling.ThenheheardEberlein’svoiceagain:“DidErikHallmentionanythingtoyouaboutanobjectintheshapeofastar,oranareanorthofSvalbard?”Donfelthimselfshakinghishead.“Andnootherdocuments?”“No,I’vetoldyou…”“Sowhatdidyoutalkabout?”“Heonlyeverphonedlateatnight,”saidDon.“HewasdrunkandwantedtotalkaboutthecrossandinsistedIcomeandhavealook.”“Now,I’mgoingtoaskyoutothinkaboutthisverycarefully,”saidEberlein.“Whatmightseemabsolutelymeaninglesstoyoucouldbeofmajorinteresttous.Theslightestlead...”DonsucceededinavoidingtheGerman’sgazebylookingdownathislipsinstead.Theyweresomehowtooredtogowiththerestofhisface.“LikeIsaid,nothing.”EberleincrackedthefingersofonehandandToadstoodupclumsily.Hewaddleduptothetable.Inhishandheheldapieceofpaperwithfadedbluehandwriting.“Doesthisremindyouofanything?”ThescrawlingloopsweremadebythesamepersonwhohadwrittenthepostcardinDon’spocket.“No,”saidDon.Hetriedtoshrughisshouldersbuttheyfeltsuddenlyheavier.Hislawyerinterrupted:“Ifinditveryhardtoseeanypointincontinuingwiththis.It’sabsolutelyclearmyclientknowsnothing,andmoreoverisnotinterestedintalkingtoyou.Aconversation,yousaid–thisiswhatinthiscountrywecallaninterrogation.NowyoumustseetoitthatthepoliceofficerstakeusbacktoFalunimmediately”.Thelawyerpushedbackherchairandstoodup.“MoreoverEberlein,orwhateveryournameis,alargepartofwhatyouhavejustputtomyclientisprotectedbypreliminaryinvestigationconfidentiality.IcannotunderstandwhattheSwedishpolicearethinkingof,allowingoutsidersaccesstothistypeofinformation.”

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DonalsostoodupbutnoticedthatEberleinremainedseatedatthetable,hisheaddown.ItseemedasiftheGermanwascontemplatingsomething.AfteralongtimeheonceagainturnedhisgazetowardsDon.“Youknow,Ithinkyourlawyerisright.”“Youdo?”saidDon.“Yes,sheisabsolutelyrightthatthisisnotaninterrogation.”Theself‐absorbedsmilespreadagain,redlips,greyteeth,andwithacoupleofeasypacesEberleinwalkedaroundthetableandlayahandonDon’sshoulder.“Thisisnotaninterrogation,andwhat’smoreIhavethegreatestunderstandingforyourunwillingnesstotellusanything,thesituationyou’rein.Butsinceyouseemtobethelastlink...”TheGermanranhisfingersdistractedlyoverthecorduroyfabric,asifhewereweighingupafinaldecision.“SinceyouappeartobethelastlinktoErikHallandhisdiscovery,wecantakeourtimeandlookatitanotherway,toseeifwecanhavealittlemoreconfidenceineachother.I’lltellyouastory,andyoucanhelpmewiththeending.”“Howdoyoumean?””We’llsortthatoutwhenwegetthere.You’llsee.”EberleinpattedDon’sarmandsaidinaslightlylowervoice:“Ibelieveyou,asaresearcher,willfairlysoonbeasinterestedasIamintryingtofindananswertothisriddle.Whenyou’veseenitintherightlight,Imean.”

AfterEberleinhadmadeDonandEvasitdownagain,hewalkedacrosstoToadbythebookcase.Hecroucheddownandwhisperedsomething.Toadstoodupwithanunhappygruntanddisappearedoutoftheroom.“Justwaitawhile,”saidEberlein,smilingatDonagain.“Ibelieveyou’llthinkit’sworththetrouble.”

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1 6 S t r i n d b e r g

Duskwasfallingandwiththeapproachingdarknessadrizzlecameinoverthegreenrooftilesonthehill,envelopingthetopsoftheoaktreesandSkansen’scraggyoutcropsinacloakofdamp,butinsidethewindowlessheartofthehouse,thecrypt‐likelibrary,itwasimpossibletotelldayfromnight.AwarmglowfromtheglasslampsfellacrossthetableandtheonlysoundwastheslowdrummingofEberlein’sfingersonthelidofasturdymetalbox.BetweentheGerman’smanicurednailsDoncouldjustmakeoutthewordsontherivetedlabel:

Strindberg1895–97

Toad,whohadjustbroughtinthesteelbox,hadtakenhisplaceagainonthestooloverbythebookcases,andhisfacewashalfhiddeninthegloom.AtDon’ssideEvaStrömleanedbackinherchair,herarmsandlegsfolded,hermouthatightline.ThefingersstoppeddrummingandEberleinbrokethesilence.“Wellnow,tohelpyouseethisintherightlight,mayIstartwithaquestion?HaveyouheardoftheTaklamakanDesert?”TherewasasighfromToadinthecorner.“TheTaklamakanDesert,”Eberleinwenton,ignoringToad,“isanoceanofsandwhichstretchesfromtheroofoftheworld,thePamirMountains,threehundredthousandsquarekilometresintonorth‐westChina.Arcticinwinter,andwhensummerfinallyarrivesthesandturnsintoafurnace,withaheatthatcanexceedfiftydegrees.Hellonearth,theysay.Itis,atanyrate,impossibletolivethere,anduntiltheendofthe1800stheareawasmarkedonmapsasawhitepatch,aterraincognita,asbigasGermany.Atthattimeno‐oneknewanythingaboutitsinterior,noteventhosewholivedneartheDesert.TheonlyinformationavailablewasafewlinesinamanuscriptMarcoPololeftbehindinthe1400s,fantasticstoriesofancientcitiesburiedundersandduneshundredsofmetreshigh.ThefirstpersonwhodaredtosetoffintothisvoidcamefromabackwaterinnorthernEurope.HisnamewasSvenHedin.TherewasacreakasDonchangedpositioninhischair.“YouknowaboutSvenHedin’sjourneys,Isuppose?”saidEberlein.“IprofesstoadeepandindeliblememoryofAdolfHitlerandconsiderhimtobeoneofworldhistory’sgreatestmen,”saidDon.Toadcouldbeheardmuttering,butDononlyshruggedhishunchedshouldersandcontinued.“ThatwaswhatSvenHedinwroteaboutHitlerattheendofthewar.‘IprofesstoadeepandindeliblememoryofAdolfHitlerandconsiderhimtobeoneofworldhistory’sgreatestmen.’Hewasknighted–Hedin,thatis.” “Well,whereHedinstoodpoliticallyhasnothingtodowiththis,Icanassureyou,”saidEberlein.TheGermanpushedthesteelboxasideandleanedacrossthetable.“No,thisisaboutsomethingthattookplacelong,longbeforethewar,whenHedinwasaboutthirtyandstillayoungexplorer.Atthebeginningof1895hestoodonthefringeoftheTaklamakanDesert,andtogettherehehadtravelledbyrailfromStPetersburgtoTashkentinRussianTurkestan.Fromtherehecrossedthefrozensteppesinafur‐linedhorsedrawnwagon,

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tocontinueonfootwithKyrgyzstannomadsthroughthePamirmountainpassesatheightsoffivetosixthousandmeters.Thatalonewas,foritstime,atrulyremarkablejourney.OnthefifthofJanuary1895hefinallyreachedtheoasistownofKashgar,theplacebytheTaklamakanDesertwhereforthousandsofyearstheSilkRoadscaravanshadconverged.Withhisone‐mantent,histoolsandhisweaponshedisappearedoutintotheseaofsandonthetwenty‐secondofJanuary,withacoupleofcamels,somebearersanddonkeys.Heknewnothingthenabouttheviolentsandstormsandthewhirlingsandswhichcanredrawthedesertinamatterofhours.NeitherhadhelistenedtothewarningshehadheardinKashgaraboutthestrangevoicesoutintheemptiness,voicesthatbewitchedandmadetravellerslosetheirwayinthelabyrinththatwastheDesert.Thefirstandsecondnightswentasplanned,andwhenthegroupsetupcampunderthestarsHedinmadecharcoalsketchesoftheterrainsohewouldnotlosehisdirection.Butonthethirdnightthesandstormscame.AccordingtoHedin’sdescriptionitragedforafullseventy‐sevenhours.Whenthesandfinallysettledtheentirelandscapearoundtheircamphadbeentransformed.Thestormhadnotonlymovedthesanddunes,whichhadbeenseveralhundredmetreshigh,thewindshadactuallyflattenedthem,andwherethesandhadoncebeen,petrifiedtreesnowspreadtheirbranchestothesky.AshewanderedamongthetreetrunksHedindiscoveredsomewhitepostsprotrudingfromthesand,andashegotcloserhesawthathewasstandingbesidetheremainsofafence.Accompaniedbyabearerhefollowedthelineofthefenceinawesterlydirectionandafterafewkilometrestheyreachedaclusterofderelictbuildings,theremainsofatown.Thestrongwindshadsweptthemcleanofthelayersofsandthathadcoveredthemforhundreds,maybethousands,ofyears.Hedinwrotelaterthathisservantbeggedhimtoleavetheplace,whichtheycalledtheIvoryHouses,butHedinhimselfdancedforjoyandwasconvincedhehaddiscoveredanewPompeii.InsomeofhisfirstnotesHedinwrotethatthebuildingsseemedtobeconstructedofwood,poplarinparticular,rightinthemiddleofaseaofsand!Althoughthewhitefacadesatfirstfeltsolid,theyshatteredlikeglasswhenhetappedthemwithhisridingwhip.Hedinalsopaintedanumberofpicturesdepictingfrescoesofnaked,prayingwomen,withwhatHedininterpretedasanIndiancastemarkontheirforeheads,andmenholdingstrangeweapons,andbesidethemfiguresofBuddhaholdingalotusblossom.Hedincametotheconclusionthathehadfoundwhatoncehadbeenatempleplace.TodayweknowitastheburiedcityofDandan‐Uiliq.However,whatislessknown,”Eberleinwenton,“iswhatHedinfoundthatfirstdayundertheburiedcity.Inaletter,whichwehaveaccessto,Hedindescribesdramaticallyhowbychancehisfeetbrokethroughthefloorofoneofthemostmagnificentbuildingsandsenthimhurtlingdownontothemosaicfloorofsomethinghethoughtmustbeamucholderburialchamber.Heneversucceededindatingit.Aroundthemosaic’sgreenandblackcentrelaytwelveswaddledbodies,preservedmummiesthathadlongsincedesiccatedinthedesertair.Asheapproachedthemhefoundacrossonthechestofoneofthemummies,aswhiteasboneandshapedlikethehieroglyphknownasAnkh.Andhorizontallyoverthecrosssomeonehadonceplacedanotherobject,afive‐pointedstarintheshapetheEgyptianscalledSeba,whichtheysawasthesymbolofthegodOsiris,ruleroftheoutermostperiphery,thegodwhoholdsthekeystotheunderworlditself.”EberleinfellsilentandstudiedDonforalongtimeasifhuntingforanswers. “Vervoltdosgegleybt?”saidDoneventually.Eberleinlookedathimsteadily.“Imean,astarandacrossinasunkenburialchamberunderaburiedcity...”Don’seyesstung.Twenty‐fourhourswithoutsleep.“Vervoltdosgegleybt.Whowouldhavethoughtit?”Eberleingaveafaintsmile.

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“Youmustunderstand,”hesaid,“SvenHedinnevereventriedtoconvinceanyoneabouthisdiscoveryofthecrossandthestarintheburialchamberunderDandan‐Uiliq.Hewasoftheopinion,untilhisdeath,thatthewholestorywasanembarrassment.Youwouldn’twillinglytellpeopleaboutasensationaldiscoverywhichyoulaterseemtohave...lost.”Hecoughed,tookahandkerchiefoutofhisjacketpocketanddriedhislips.“Verydryairinhere,isn’tit?Perhapsyou’dlikesomethingtodrink?”EvaStröm’sfaceshowednoreaction,butDonnodded.TheGermanturnedtowardsToadwhoroseoutofthedarkcorner,muttering.Whenhehadlurchedoutintothecorridor,oneofthelibrary’sdoorswasleftslightlyopenandDoncouldmakeouttheredraysofthesunsetinawindowbeyondthecorridorandthespiralstaircase.ThenheheardEberlein’svoiceagain.“WeknowthatHedintookthecrossandthestarbackwithhimtotheoasisatKashgar,becausethere’sanentryonhisinventoryoftheexcavations.WhathappenednextcanprobablybeputdowntoHedin’spersonality.HewasobsessiveaboutwritingthecorrectdescriptionhimselfofeveryobjecthediscoveredbeforehepackedthemintocratestobesenttothescientificacademiesinStockholm.Butthisprovedtobeimpossiblewiththecrossandthestar.Despiteafewprimitiveattemptshecouldn’tevenfindoutwhattheobjectsweremadeof.Tohidethisfailurefromhiscolleagues,hesoughtadvicefromanumberofacquaintances,whowerelivinginFranceatthetime.Heputthecrossandthestarinasealedbrasscase,togetherwithaletterdescribinghisdiscoveryandrequestingatechnicalopinion.TheconsignmentisnotedinHedin’seffectsandasfaraswehavebeenabletotellwentfromKashgartotheSt.LouisHospitalinParis,arrivingthereonthesecondofFebruary1895.Thehandsthatbrokethesealsofthecasewerewrappedinstripsoflinenandsmearedinsalvetosoothethesorescausedbylongnightsofalchemyexperiments.Theywerehandsthatforamonthhadhardlybeenabletoholdevenapen.”InthegentleglowfromtheglasslampsEberlein’sfaceseemedtohavegrownyounger.ThegreynesshaddisappearedanditwasasifhewaswaitingforDontosaythename.“Strindberg?”Hegaveanod.Dontriedtoholdbackbutcouldnotstophimselfandletoutahoarse,hackinglaugh.Itwasimmediatelyabsorbedbythethickcarpetandtheinsulatingspinesofthebooks.TheGermankepthiseyesfixedonDonandcontinued.“ItmightseemanincrediblecoincidencebutyouhavetounderstandthattheSwedishupperclassatthattimewasaverysmallcircle,andHedinknewthatStrindberghadaccesstotheanalyticallaboratoryattheSorbonne,withsomeofEurope’smostadvancedtechnicalequipment.”DoncastasidewayslookatEva,butsheonlyrolledhereyestowardstheceiling,soheturnedbacktofaceEberlein,andsaid,“ButtheverythoughtthatSvenHedinofallpeoplewouldsendsomethingtoAugustStrindberg...”“Well?”askedEberlein.“Youdoknowtheyweredeadlyenemies?”“Oh,thatenmitycamelater!”saidEberlein.“ItmightbeconnectedtothewayStrindbergtreatedboththeHedinobjects,butno,until1895theyhadagoodrelationshipwitheachother.”Eberleinsmiledagain.

ThesunmusthavesetforthelightinthelibraryvaulthardlychangedwhenthedoorsswungopenandToadcamebackin.Heslappedthetraydownonthetable.Asilverteapot,threegold‐edgedcupsongreensaucersandbesidethemaneatpileofwhitecottonmaterial,whichaftera

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momentDonrealisedwereinfactseveralpairsofthingloves.Eberleinstoodupandwalkedroundthetable.Therewereclinkingsoundsasheneatlyarrangedthecupsandpouredthetea.Thesteamfromthecupsspreadarelaxingaromaofpoppyandcinnamon,andDonfurtivelydippedhishandintohisbag,lookingfortwotabletsofrevivingamphetamine.TheGermanliftedtherimofhiscuptohisredmouthmeditatively.“Well,whicheveritwas,”saidEberlein,whenhehadtakenasip,“Strindberg’sattemptswiththecrossandthestarwerelamentable.Whenitcomesdowntoit,hewassomethingofacharlatan,apoet‐chemist,ashehimselfwantedtobeknown,butwhenitcametodeterminingtheoriginsandcharacteristicsofasubstance,hisknowledgewasfartoosuperficial.Also,Strindbergwasgoingthrougharatherdeceitful,unscrupulous,phaseandaftermonthsoffailedattemptshetiredof‘Hedin’sdesertthings’ashecalledthem.Butbecausehedidn’twanttoadmitthathisattemptshadgonebadly,hesentashortexplanationinwhichheliedandsaidthatthecrossandthestarhadquitesimplybeenlost,leftbehindintheCaféduCardinalinthefiftharrondissement.Naturally,SvenHedinwasfurious,buthecouldhardlydoanythingaboutthesituationfromwherehewasinthecentralAsianwilderness.”Eberleinleanedacrossthetable,ranhisnailsoverthesteelboxanddowntheback,wheresomekindofcatchclicked.“No,AugustStrindbergnevergotanywherewiththecrossandthestar.”Thenhereleasedtwomoreclipsattheupperedgeofeachsideandliftedthelid.“Anyonewantingtogettothebottomofastorylovesacollector,isn’tthattrue,Titelman?”Eberleinstoodwithhishandonthebackofhischair,andlookeddownatthecontentsofthebox.”Yes,welovepeoplelikeAugustStrindberg,whoaresoconvincedoftheirownimportancethattheydatelaundrylistsandshoppinglists,andeventhesmallestimperfectsketchtobesavedforposterity.It’ssaidthatmorethantenthousandletterssenttoNietzsche,GeorgBrandesandIbsenhavebeenpreserved,nottomentionthelettersStrindbergsentinthe1860stohiscousinJohanOskar,orOcca,asthefamilycalledhim.TheirfriendshipwassoclosethatAugusteventuallybecamegodfathertoOcca’sson,Nils.Now,atthatverytime,theearlyspringof1895,itjustsohappenedthatthisNilsStrindbergwasoneofthecountry’smostpromisingyoungphysicistsandchemists.WeknowthatOccamentionedhisson’sfindingsaboutelectricalresonanceinaletterdatedtheseventhofFebruary1895,andthatStrindbergonlyaweekortwolatersentalistofquestionsaboutphysicsdirectlytoNils’addressatStockholm’sUniversityCollege.Nilswroteadetailedreplywhichhasalsobeenpreserved,togetherwithafurtherdozenorsoletters,becauseforthatentirespringhebecamesomethingofStrindberg’sconfidanteinhisexperimentswithalchemy.Eventuallythetonebecamemorepersonal,andinoneofthelastletters,datedJune1895,NilscomplainsaboutthemelancholyofthedesertedsummerStockholm,whenallscientificworkhadbeensetaside.InreplyhereceivedapackagefromhisgodfatherinPariswhichcontainedtwoitems:acrosswithaneyeletatthetop,andafive‐pointedEgyptian‐stylestar.”TherewasaclatterasEberleinreplacedhiscup.ThenhesatdownagainatthetableoppositeEvaandDon,pulledthesteelboxcloser,andslowlytopullonapairofcottongloves. “WhatIintendtoshowyounowissomethingwebroughtwithusasanexampleofthetypeofthingErikHalldiscoveredinthemine.ButIhaveafeelingcanserveanotherpurpose.”Eberleinbroughthishandstogetherandstretchedthewhitefabricbetweenthefingersofthegloves. “InthenoteStrindbergsentwiththepackagehedidn’tmentionawordaboutSvenHedinortheTaklamakanDesert.Allhewrotewereafewshortlinesinvitingacarefulanalysisofthe

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crossandthestarandtherequestforaquickreply.Nilswasinterestedinphotography,sothefirstthinghedidwhenheexaminedtheobjects...”FromthemetalboxEberleinliftedoutrectangularcartonmadeofcardboard.Heputitdownonthetableanduntiedthestringsothathecouldopenthelid.Atthetopwasalayerofgreyishwadding,whichEberleinremovedandspreadoutinfrontofthem.Thenheputhishandbackintothecartonagainandbroughtoutsomefragileglassslides,whichhecarefullybegantoplaceonthesoftlayer.Donleanedforwardtoabletosee.Itwasdifficultatfirst,withallthelightreflectinginthedarkglass,butwhenEberleinshadedthemwithhishandtherewasnolongeranyroomfordoubt.Ontheoxidisedsilveroftheglassplatesshoneawhiteloopedcross,andbesidethecrosslayafaintlyshiningstarwithfivearmsradiatingfromitscentre.Besidetheobjectssomeonehadplacedaruler,andDoncouldreadthatthecrossmeasured42.6centimetreslong,withacrosspieceof21.3centimetres.OnoneoftheotherpictureswasahandwrittennotesayingthattheSebastarmeasured11centimetresindiameter.“Itfeelsdifferentwhenyouseeit,doesn’tit?”saidEberlein.NowEvawasalsoleaningoverthetable.Shetookholdofthegreywadding,pulledtheglassslidescloserandregardedthem.Eberleinshookfreeanotherpairofthinglovesfromthepileandreachedover.Sheputthemon,thenliftedupandstudiedthedelicateglass.“Acollodionnegative,”saidEberlein,aftershehadlookedatthemforawhile.“Thesolutionconsistsofcottondissolvedinether,andatenminuteexposure.Verysharpimage,don’tyouthink?”DonmetthereflectionofEva’seyesinthedarkshard.

WhenEberleinliftedoutthenextlayerofwadding,abundleofyellowingsheetsofnotepapercouldbeseenatthebottomofthecarton.Theyappearedtobeboundtogetherwithwire,andonthetoppagewasstamped:

StockholmUniversityCollege–Berzeliuslaboratory

Followingthestampwererowsofnumeralsandabbreviations,untidilywrittenindarkblueink.TheGermanplacedthebundleofpapersonthetable,besidetheglassplates.Thenheuntwistedthewire,freedthefirstpageandgaveittoDon,togetherwithacoupleofwhitegloves.“FromtheattemptinmidJune,1895,”saidEberlein.Doncouldmakeouttheoccasionalchemicalnotation,buttheremainderofthetextwasablurofspideryhandwriting.“Arend’ssystemofstenography,”saidEberlein.“NilsStrindbergalwaysusedshorthandiwhenheworkedaloneinthelaboratory,andwhatyouarelookingatconcernssomeoftheearlyattemptswithacids.Hetriedlatertoinfluencethemetal’ssurfacewiththehelpofchemicals,too,buthadnosuccessthere,either.”Eberleinshiftedafewsheetsofpapertotheside.“Thisisfromlaterthatsamenight,whenhehadbeguntoexaminetheinscriptionsonthecross.NilsStrindbergusedamagnifyingglassandamicroscope,butthenotesherearefairlyconfusingbecausehecouldnotexplainhowsomeonehadmanagedtoetchanythingontothecross.Hewascompletelyunabletomakeanymarkontheobjectatall,notevenwhenheusedoneoftheBerzeliuslaboratory’sdiamond‐tippedbradsfortestinghardness.Theweightastonishedhim,too.”Eberleinindicatedacolumnofcrossed‐outnumerals.

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“Thelaboratoryscalesgavethecrossandthestarreadingsofonlyacoupleofgrams,whiletheonesinhishandseemedtoweighsomuchmore.”Heturnedoverafewmorepages.“Afewdayslaterhebegantoaskhimselfwhethertheobjectswereactuallymadeofmetalatall.Certainly,theyreflectedthelightthatfellonthem,andtherewasametallicshine,butwhateverhedidhecouldnotgetthecrossorthestartoconductelectricityorheat.NilsStrindbergtriedtoheattheobjectsoneatatimeonthemeshscreenofhisBunsenburner,butnotevenatatemperatureof1,500degreesdidtheyseemtobeaffectedbytheheat.Neitherdidheneedtousetongstotakethemofftheflame,forhedescribedthatevenafterhalfanhour’sheatingtheobjectswerestillcool,almostcoldtothetouch.Finally,onthetwenty‐seventhofJune,hemadeabreakthrough.”Eberlein’sglovedfingerssearchedfurtherdownthepileandatlastheseemedtofindwhathewaslookingfor,andmovedtheotherpagesaside.Theannotationsthatnowlaybeforethemwereverydifferentfromthepreviousones,andincludedroughsketches,clearlywrittendowningreathaste.Inseveralplacestheinkhadformeddarkblueblots.“Yousee,”saidEberlein,“theBunsenburnerattheBerzeliuslaboratoryhasamaximumtemperatureofabout1,500degrees,butontheeveningofthetwenty‐seventhofJuneNilsStrindberghadattachedacontainerofpureoxygentotheairinlettoseeifhecouldforcethetemperatureupevenfurther.Inamomentofnegligence,orevenpurelaziness,forthefirsttimeheheatedupbothobjectsatthesametime,withthestarrestingonthehorizontalarmofthecross.Theinstantbeforeheadjustedthegastoturntheflamefrombluetowhitethetwoobjectsfusedtogether,completelyunexpectedly.Thetemperatureatthattimehadonlyreached...”“1,220degrees,”saidEvaStröm.Shepointedatthefigurebesideanexclamationmark.“At1,220degrees,”noddedEberlein,“intheflameontheBunsenburner’smeshscreentheobjectsfusedtogether.NilsStrindbergwritesthatitwasasifthestarsuddenlysettledintoplace,seamlesslyattachingitselftothehorizontalarmofthecross,asifbothobjectswereinfacttwopartsofsomethingthatwasonceacompletewhole.Andyetathisearlierattemptsthestarandthecrosshadbeenentirelyinsensitivetoheat.Donfeltawavewashthroughhim.Theamphetaminesmusthavekickedinatlast.Therapidlyincreasedwakefulnessmadehismouthdry.“Youcanseeforyourself,”saidEberlein,indicatingoneofthedrawings.Inthemiddleofthesketchedcrosstherewereindeedfivethinlines,thearmsofastarthathadfusedundertheloopofthecross,attheplacewherethetwoarmsmet.Besidethepicturewasaverticalnote,writteninpencil.Donturnedthepageroundandread:

Attheintersectionthenavigationalinstrumentbecomesfluidlikemercury

DonlookedupatEberlein.“Navigationalinstrument?”HelookeddownagainatthefusedcrossandstarthatNilsStrindberghadsohastilysketchedatvariousanglesacrossthepage.Atthefootofthepagewasavariantwheretheinkhadrunintoasmudgedhalfmoon,likeadomedcrownofraysabovetheproneobject.“Hemanagedtoportraythereactionbetteronthenextpage,”saidEberlein,andturnedthepageover.Here,NilsStrindberghadtakenthetimetomaketwoconsiderablylargerandmoredetaileddrawings.Abovebothofthem,whatDonhadinterpretedasaninkblothadbeensketchedasagrey‐blue

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sphere,archingoverthejoinedcrossandstarlikealoftycupola.Ontheuppersideofthespheresevenpointsweresetoutinafamiliarpattern,andbesidethehighestpointwasanotherpencillednote.

NorthernPoleStarintheDragon’sWing

“Dragon’swing,”saidEberlein.“NilsStrindbergusedthisnamefortheconstellationwenowcallUrsaMinor,orLittleBear.”Thenhisfingertracedthesevenpointsonthesphereabovethecrossandthestar,fromtheGreatBear’ssquareuptoitstail.“FirstthetwinstarsPherkadandKandabwereilluminated.ThisoneiscalledAnwaralFarkadain,andthisisAhfaalFarkadain.ThencomeUrodelusandYildun,andhereatthetopisPolaris,thePoleStar,orthenorthernpolestar,asNilsStrindbergcallsit‐thestarthatalwaysremainsfixedinthezenithovertheNorthPole.Eberleinsatsilentlyforawhileashestudiedthedrawing.Thenhesaid:“AccordingtoStrindberg’snotes,thepatternofthesesevenpointsappearedoutofthinairjustabovethecrossandthestar,almostimmediatelyaftertheobjectshadfusedtogetherforthefirsttime.InitiallyhethoughttheyweresomeroguesparksfromtheBunsenburnerandcouldn’tunderstandwhytheyremainedfloatingthere.Then,afteraminuteortwo,theconstellationweldeditselfintothisfirstcelestialspherethathehasdrawnabovethecrossandthestar.Hewrotelaterthatitwaslikeseeingahalogrowingoutofnothing.”“Thefirstsphere?”saidDon.Eberleinnoddedtowardsthelowerdrawing.

Donlickedhisdrylipsandslowlyredirectedhisgaze.There,inthenextpicture,wasanothersphere.UnderthefirmamentwiththeGreatBear,NilsStrindberghaddrawnasecondsemi‐circleabovethecrossandthestar,ablurrygreyinnerdome,coveredincontourswhichcouldhardlybemisinterpreted.“He’sdrawnthenorthernhemisphere?”askedDon.“Hehasdrawnthesecondsphere,”saidEberlein.TheGermanfollowedtheoutlinesofthelandmasseswithhiswhite‐glovedfinger.“TheSiberiancoastattheArcticOcean.TheKolaPeninsula.ThefjordsofnorthernNorway.Iceland,SvalbardandtheShetlandIslands.TheheadoftheglaciersinGreenlandandNewfoundland.TheCanadiannorthcoastandthetundrainAlaskaattheBeringStrait.Andhere...Thefingermovedbacktothemiddleofthelowersphere.“TheNorthPole”“Well,inthatcase,what’sthat?”askedEva.FromthePoleStarathinlinerantowardsapointafewcentimetresbelowEberlein’sfinger.“That,”saidEberlein,“isabeamoflight.AttheendofthereactionitshonefromthePoleStartowardstheNorthernHemisphere,andapparentlyNilsStrindberginstantlyconcludedthatitwasakindofsignpost.”

Doncarefullyliftedtheyellowedsheetoflaboratorypaperclosertotheglasslamps.TheraywhichemanatedfromthePoleStarendedinasmallXjustnorthoftheoutlinethatEberleinhadcalledSvalbard.Butnow,inthestrongerlight,DonsawthatinactualfacttherewereseveralsmallXsinthisparticularregion,drawninpencilandmeticulouslynumbered.Theyseemedconnectedtoalistintherighthandmargin:

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(pos.no1) 29/6 lat.82°59'N,long.29°40'E(pos.no2) 30/6 lat.83°15'N,long.30°13'E!(pos.no3) 1/7 unchanged(pos.no4) 2/7 unchanged!(pos.no5) 3/7 lat.82°51'N,long.30°05'E!!(pos.no6) 4/7 unchanged!!!

“AfterseveralattemptsNilsStrindbergsucceededwithsurprisingaccuracyincalculatingwherethetipofthebeampointed,”saidEberleinwhenDonlookedup.“Asyousee,rightfromthebeginningthereweresmallbutregularpositionchanges,andittookalongtimebeforehecouldworkoutanykindofpattern.”TheGermanflippedoverafewpagesofeverincreasinglydetaileddrawingsofthecelestialsphere,thesemicircleandtheray,untilhearrivedatacarefullydetailedtable.Hefollowedthedatesandpositionswithhisfinger:“Thisis,asfarasweknow,thefirstpropertableNilsStrindbergmadeoftheray’smovements.ItwasatthebeginningofAugust1895andbythistimehemusthavelearnttodrawquickly,becausethereactionwiththespherelastedforonlytenminutesorsoateachattempt.Afterthatthecrossandthestarfellapartagainintwocool,perfectlyformedobjects,anditwasasifthefusionofthetwohadneverhappened.”Eberleinletthetablelaywhereitwasinfrontofthem,whilehebegantogatheruptheglassplatesonthegreywadding.“Asyoucansee,”hecontinued,hisheaddownashebusiedhimselfwiththeglass,“whatwehaveherearefiftyorsoattemptsinwhichthesequenceofeventsisalwaysthesame.NilsStrindbergplacedthestaronthehorizontalarmofthecrossonthemeshoftheBunsenburnerandadjustedtheflametotherighttemperature.Whenthecrossandthestarweldedtogetherintoasingleinstrumentthesevenpointsalwaysbegantoshine,andateveryattempttheyformedthepatternoftheGreatBear,withthePoleStaratthezenithabovethefusedstarinthecentreofthecross.Thenafteraminuteorso,thecelestialspherebecameapparent,followedbythesemicircleoftheNorthernHemisphere.Andthelaststepofthereactionwasalwaysthebright,narrowraythatfellfromthePoleStartoapointclosetolatitude84,northofSvalbardandSpetsbergen.Ifyoulookthereinthelist,you’llseethatthedistancebetweentheshiftingpositionsissmall,withinaradiusofaboutahundredandtwentykilometres,infact.NilsStrindbergfinallycametotheconclusionthatthepositionchangewasaregularoccurrenceandthattheraymovedapproximatelyeverythirdday.ItwasalmostasifitwasfollowingsomekindofobjectivewithinthislimitedareanorthofSvalbard.Atarget,constantlyonthemove.”Eberleinfoldedthewaddingaroundtheglassplates,thenlaythemgentlybackintheircarton.“Vervoltdosgegleybt,”saidDon,quietly.

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1 8 T h e E a g l e

Ametalboxandapileofyellowingpapers.Ongreenleatherchairswithbrassfittingsthreeseatedfiguresleaningoveratable.Highabovethemarchedthelibrary’svaultedceiling,theturretroomoftheearlytwentieth‐centuryvillaonDjurgårdeninStockholm.Againstthelowerrowsofblackvolumesthatcoveredthewallssatamanresemblingatoad.Itlookedasifhehadfallenasleeponhisstool,butthesullensetofhismouthmadeitobvioushewasstilllistening.

ThelastsheetofNilsStrindberg’slaboratorynoteswasmadeupofseveralseparatepagesandwhenEberleinunfoldeditoverthetableinfrontofEvaandDon,itcoveredmostofthesurfaceundertheglasslamps.Aswiththepreviousdrawings,ahighcelestialspherearchedabovethecrossandthestar,withtheGreatBearconstellationatitscentre,buthere,belowthestars,thenorthernhemispherehadnowbeendrawnwithminuteprecision.Fromthefirsthurriedsketch,wherethecontoursofthecoastlineswerehardlydiscernable,NilsStrindberghadadvancedtoadetailedchartwiththePrimeMeridianrunninginastraightlinefromGreenwichinLondonuptowardstheArcticandtheNorthPole.Eastofthiscentrelineabow‐shapedgridfannedouttowardsSvalbardandSpetsbergen,andjustnorthoftheislandswasashadedcirclewiththeannotation

each3rddaynewrayposition+recurringcontinuouslywithinthecircle:

lat.82°15'N–84°20'Nlong.29°20'E–31°25'E

radiusofthearea(approx.)65nauticalmiles=120km

“Therearesome,”saidEberlein,“whosuggestNilsStrindbergcontactedengineerAndréeasearlyasthemiddleofJuly1895,butthefirsttimethischartismentionedisinthememorandumfromtheirfirstmeetinginGrännaatthebeginningofAugust.Andasyousee,theyoungphysicistwasbythistimeconvincedthatthebeammovedonlywithinaradiusof120kilometres.WhateverthePoleStarwaspointingout,thetargetlaydirectlynorthofSvalbardandshouldtheoreticallybepossibletoreachviaashortaerialtripovertheice.”Donrestedhisheadinhishandsashesatbentforward,lookingdownatthepatcheddrawing.BesidetheuppertipofSvalbard’scoaststoodsomefadedlines,writteninamorepedantichandwritingthanStrindberg’s,whichbeganwiththewords:

Strongnortheasterlywinds?

“Wedon’tknowwhatAndréethoughtaboutthisfirstmeetingwiththetwenty‐twoyearoldphysicistfromStockholm,hischartandhisBunsenburner,butNilsStrindbergdescribesitasadisappointment.”WithhisfingerEberleingentlyflattenedafoldinthepaperthathadformedalongthecontoursoftheChannel,andcontinued:“NilsStrindbergthought,ofcourse,thatAndréewasseriousabouthistalkofaballoontripovertheNorthPole.Andtostartwiththatdidseemtobethecase.Overalightlunchinhishomeon

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thatAugustday,AndréespokeabouttheArctic’sperfectflyingconditions,aboutthemidnightsunwhoselightwouldmakethenavigationeasier,andhowthejourneyinthegondolaundertheballoonwouldbewarmandpleasant.Hedescribedthesystemofdragropesandsailswhichwouldbeusedtosteertheballoon,andthemildsummerweathertheycouldexpect.Naturally,NilsStrindbergknewabouttheengineer’splans‐thenewspaperswroteaboutnothingelseatthetime,andthatwaswhyhehadcometoGränna,ofcourse.ButafterthemeetinghewroteinhisnotesthatAndrée’senthusiasmseemedtowanethelongerthelunchcontinuedandthatafterawhileconversationgroundtoahalt.WhenatlastStrindbergsetuphisequipmenttodemonstratethereactionwiththeBunsenburner,Andréeremarkedthathewasn’tparticularlyinterestedinantiquesandworksofart,andatfirsthedismissedthecelestialspheresasatrick.Thenhebegantoblamealackoffunds.AndréehadinsistedtotheRoyalSwedishAcademyofSciencesthattheentireexpeditionwouldcostonly130,000Swedishkronor,wheninfactthatamountwouldnotevencoverthepurchaseoftheballoon.Nowheadmittedthathehadpaintedrathertooprettyapictureoftheproject,toencourageOscarIIandAlfredNobeltocontributewithdonations.Whenthecoffeearrived,withcognacandcigars,itwasobvioustoNilsStrindbergthatAndrée’sNorthPoleplanshadbeenacharadeandapublicitystunt.ItwasalsosomethingofashocktohimthatAndréehadflowninaballoononlyninetimesintotal,andthatmostofthetripshadendedinacrashlanding.AndréestillcomplainedaboutbackpainfollowingalandingontheislandofGotlandearlierthatspring,wherethewindhaddrivenhimfromGothenburg.

Tomakeroomforthepatchedchart,Eberleinhadpushedthesteelboxtotheouteredgeofthetable.Nowhelifteditbackandplaceditcarefullyinfrontofhim,parallelwiththeoutlinesofNormandyandBrittany.DonlookedatEvawhentheGermanagainloosenedthecatchesofthebox.Sheangledherwristtowardshim,showinghimherwatch,andhenoticedtheslightshakeofherhead.“TheonlyreasontheexpeditiontookplacewasbecauseofNilsStrindberg,”continuedEberlein.“InaletterdatedtheseventeenthofAugust,heaskedhisfatherOccahowhecouldprocurealargesumofmoneytorealiseAndrée’sproject.Occa,whowasawholesaler,specialisingintradewithHamburgandBerlin,advisedstronglyagainsttheprojectinitially,buteventuallyputhimintouchwithagroupofGermanbusinessmen.OnthethirdofSeptember1895NilsStrindbergandAndréesteppedoffthetrainatBahnhofBerlinZoologischerGartenandafterademonstrationwiththeBunsenburnerandthecelestialspherestheysucceededinconvincingtheGermanstocoverthecostsoftheentireproject,asumoftwomillionkronor.ThiswasatimewheninterestinEgyptologywasatfeverpitchandtheGermanswerenodoubtinspiredbythesensationalfindsomeEnglishmenhadmadeintheValleyoftheKings.Toputitsimply,thefinanciershopedStrindberg’sinstrumentwouldleadthemtoundiscoveredtreasure.Eberleinsmiledtohimself,andcontinued:“Therewereanumberofconditions,however.Firstly,thebusinessmendemandedthatthemainpurposeoftheballoontripwouldbetoinvestigatetheareaindicatedbythePoleStaraboveSvalbard.If,subsequently,theyhappenedtopasstheNorthPole,thatwasoflessinterest.ThesecondconditionwasthattheirinvolvementwasnottobemadeknowntotheSwedishsponsors,becausetheydidnotwanttoputtheirweaponsindustrycontactswiththeSwedishNobelcompanyatrisk.Theyassumed,andnotentirelywithoutreason,thatAlfredNobelwouldreactifhefoundoutthattheGermanintereststriedtodistortAndrée’sNorthPoleexpedition.ThethirdandlastconditionwasthatallinformationabouttheBunsenburner,thecrossandstar,andanypotentialdiscoveriesinthespecifiedarea,wastobekeptsecret,andbeheldin

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perpetuitybyafoundationwithitsbaseNordrhein‐Westfalen.EngineerAndréeatfirstrefusedtosignthedocument,butwaseventuallypersuadedbyNilsStrindberg.”

DonwatchedasEberleinopenedthelidoftheboxandliftedoutasmallbookcoveredinsomekindofgreen‐checked,shinymaterial,likeoilcloth.Insidethecoversthepagesseemedwarpedanduneven,asiftheyhadbeenexposedtoagreatdealofdamp.“OnthethirtiethofMay1897,aftertwoyearsofpreparation,theexpedition’svesselheadedtowardsSvalbardandtherocksofDanes’Islandthroughdecaying,brokenice.Idon’tknowifyouhaveseenthephotographs,buttheyseemprettyunprepared,AndréeandStrindberg,astheystandtheresidebysideonthedeckofthegunboatSvensksund.Twoslendermenwithgoldenwatchesandsuits,handsinsidetheirjacketlapels.TheonlypersonintheexpeditiontohaveanyexperienceofarcticconditionswasKnutFrænkel,whoAndréehadbeggedtoaccompanythembecauseofhisphysicalprowess.TheplanwasforFrænkeltopullthesledgewithitstwohundredkiloload,ifagainstallprobabilitytheyweretocrashlandsomedistancefromtheirgoal.Forfiveweekstheywaitedfortherightwinds.NilsStrindbergpassedthetimeplayingtheviolinandwritingletterstohisfiancée,AnnaCharlier,whilethesailorsfromtheSvensksundvarnishedandwater‐proofedtheballoonmaterial.AndréeandStrindberghadorderedtheballoonfromLachambreinParis,buttherehadbeennotimeforatestflight.OntheeleventhofJuly,however,therightwindsfinallyarrived,blowingtothenorth‐east.”Eberleinopenedthegreen‐checkedbookwithitsoilclothcover.DonrecognisedNilsStrindberg’shandwriting,hereinnormalscriptratherthanArend’sstenography.“ThisisNilsStrindberg’straveljournal,begunatlunchtimeimmediatelybeforedeparture.”

Thefirstpagewasdamaged,athinscrapthatEberleincarefullyturned.Atthetopofthefollowingpageweretheannotations:

Danes’Island,VirgoHarbour.11July1897

writtenintheleeofthewind,northsideoftheballoonhangar

AsketchshowedthatNilsStrindbergmusthavelittheBunsenburnerafinaltimeandfusedthecrossandthestartodeterminetheray’sposition.Belowwasasmudgednoteinink:

1h27p.m.Greenw.timepresentpositionofray:lat.83°59'N–lat.30°45'E

estimateddistancefr.Danes’Island:567kilometreswindaccordingtoFrænkel:7sec.m.NE,decidelysqually

Besidethedistancemarkings,writteninloopedhandwriting,wastheword‘certified’followedbyalargeA.Afewdropsofwatermusthavefallenonthepageatthetimeofwriting,forthewordscoveringtherestofthepagewerefaintandalmostwashedaway,andallDoncouldmakeoutweresomeremarksabouttheballoon’sliftingpoweranditsnotable

fragility

ThenEberlein’svoicecamefromtheothersideofthetable:“Thetopoftheballoonhangarhadbeendismantled,AndréeandFrænkelhadalreadytakentheirplaceintheballoongondolaandthehomingpigeonsintheirwickercagesweresecurelyattachedunderthesupportropes,andyettherewerethesefinaldoubts.Asfarasthelaunchwasconcerned,wehavetorelyoneye‐witnessaccounts‐StrindbergnoddingtoAndréetogivethe

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ordertocutthetetheringropes,andthethreesharpcracksastheropesweresevered.Theballoonhoveredmotionlessforamomentortwo,butwhenFrænkelhoistedthethreesailsthefloorofthehangardroppedawaybeneaththem,andtheyfloated,weightless.Assoonastheywerelevelwiththetopofthehangar,thewindtookholdandtheballoonbumpedonemoretimeagainstthewallbeforerisingslowlytoaheightoffiftymetresandfloatingoutoverDanes’IslandandVirgoHarbour.Theyhadwaiteduntilthelaunchtochristentheballoon.ThebackershaddemandedtheGerman‐soundingname‘Eagle’,butStrindbergandAndréehadassuredAlfredNobelthatitwouldbecalled‘LepôleNord’,theNorthPole.

EberleinturnedoverafewpagesinStrindberg’soilcloth‐coveredbook.Thenextreadingwas:

3hrs33p.m.Greenw.timeEaglebeyondtheDanishStrait

Donnoticedsomeweatherreportsatthetopofthepage,followedbyafewwordsaboutbeerandsandwiches,asketchofbirdsalongsidethegondola,andanotethatAndréehadstoodupontherimtourinate.TherewasalsoabriefnoteaboutafinalgreetingtohisfiancéeAnna,whichwassealedandthrownoverboardastheypassedovertheislandofVogelsang.Andthentwowords:

Frænkelknows!

DonlookedupatEberlein.“TheFrænkelbusinesswasasurprisetoStrindberg.AllthecalculationshadbeenmadeinAndrée’scabinonboardSvensksund,andtheburnerhadbeensmuggledaboardimmediatelybeforedepartureinasackmadeofsailcloth,togetherwiththecrossandthestar.TheplanwasforKnutFrænkel,alongwithallSwedes,tobeexcludedfromthesecret,butsomehowhemusthavefoundoutabouttheexistenceoftheinstrument.StrindbergseemstohavesuspectedAndrée.Thereareafewlinesaboutthatfurtheron...”Eberlein’sfingermovedoversomeblurredwordsashortwaydownthepage.“It’sremarkable,really,”hecontinued,“thatNilsStrindberghadtheenergytodevotetothematter.Theballoonflightwasalreadybythistimeacatastrophe.Aftertheyhadpassedtheharbourasquallofwindcaughtthesailandforcedtheballoondowntowardsthewaves.Theydroppedsolowthatthebasketbouncedagainstthesurfaceofthewater,andwhenAndréeandStrindbergfinallymanagedtocutloosenineoftheirsandbagstheystartedtoascend,buttheballoonhadmadeahalfturnonitsaxelandbegantofloatbackwards.Thisspinningmovementmadeseveraloftheheavydragropesdetachfromtheirscrewholdsandtheropeswereleftbehindamongthestonesonthewater’sedge.ButinsteadofcallingofftheexpeditionitappearsthatAndréeandStrindbergweresogrippedbypanicatthethoughtofdescendingyetagainandlosingthecrossandthestarintheseathattheycontinuedtocutfreesandbagaftersandbag.TheEagleroseuncontrollablytoaheightofalmostsixhundredmetres,andwhentheyfeltthewindtheircouragereturned,becauseitwasblowingstronglytowardsthenorth‐east.”Eberleinpointedatsomefigures:

Pres.pos.acc.toA.(approx.)79degrees51minutesN–11degrees15minutesEestimateddistancetopos.ofray.–550km

40knots,approx.time–7hrs.

“BehindthemnowlaySpetsbergen’sglacierandthepeaks,andunderthemtheblacksea.NilsStrindbergnotedthathespottedasteamboattryingtofollowtheircourse.Theybegantosplicetheremainingdragropes,butbynowtheywereflyingfartoohighfortheropestoprovideany

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steeringpower.Astheyfloatedintoathickeningcloudofmistitbegantogetextremelycold,andtheballoon’sthinsilkfabriccooleddown.Theyquicklybeganlosinghydrogen,andyetStrindbergwasstillconvincedtheywouldreachthepositionoftheraybeforeevening.”

Eberleinliftedoutafewremainingitemsfromthebottomofthesteelbox,ahandfulofblackandwhitefilmnegatives,encasedinglass,whichhelineduponthetablewithhisglovedfingers.ThenheslidoneoftheglassplatesovertoDon,sothatthephotographrestedbesidethecrumpledpageofthejournal.“ThefirstpictureStrindbergtookfromtheballoon’sgondola,”saidEberlein.Thefilmnegativeinsidetheglasswasalmostblank,apartfromathinblackline.“Rememberthecoloursarereversed,”saidEberlein.“Theyareapproachingthewhitelineofthepackice.”Thenheslidacrossonemorenegativeshowingtwolightspheresandablackray.Underthelowerspherethefusedcrossandstarcouldbemadeoutoverthedarkflameoftheburner.“Strindbergtookthisanhourorsolater,downinthegondola’ssleepingsection.ThatmusthavebeenjustbeforeAndréewenttobed.Theywerebynowataheightofalmostsevenhundredmetres.Everythingdrippedwithmoisturebecauseofthecloud,whichwaswhyhedaredtolighttheBunsenburnertocheckthepositionoftheray.Theslightestmisdirectedsparkwouldhavebeenacatastrophe,andTheEaglewouldhaveturnedintoaballoffire.“What’sthat?”askedDon,pointingatsomewhitelinesatthenegative’sloweredge.“Pointsofthecompassandthetime,”saidEberlein.“Strindberg’scamerawasequippedwithamechanismthatmarkedeachphotograph.Thisphotowastakenjustaftermidnight,atdawnonthetwelfthofJuly,andtheray’spositionhadstillnotchanged.”Heflippedoverafewmorepages,andforeverypageStrindberg’shandwritingbecamemoreofascribble. “Itwasthecoldfromthecloudandthelossofhydrogenthatmadetheballoonstarttodescend.OnthemorningofthetwelfthofJulytheballoonnettingandthesupportlineshadbeguntoiceoverandweighedTheEagledownbyalmostathousandkilos.Asyoucansee,hefounditdifficulttowrite‐everyfiftymeterstheybumpedagainsttheice.ThecoursehadbecomemoreeasterlyandtheyarguedaboutthebestwaytomaketheballoonstruggleoninthedirectionindicatedbytheBunsenburner.Ataround11p.m.FrænkelandStrindbergturnedin,buttheycouldn’tgetanyrest.”Eberleinpointedtoafewlines:

Rustleofropesinthesnow–eternalflappingofthesails

Andonthenextpage:

Polebuoysacrificed

“Onthefollowingday,thethirtiethofJuly,theyjettisonedeverythingthatcouldbedispensedwith.Itwasn’thardtosacrificethepolebuoytheyhadtakenwiththemforthesakeofappearances,buttheyalsostartedtogetridofquitealotofprovisions.Afterthegondolahadbeenstationaryontheiceovernight,theweatherturnedsunnyandthewarmthmadetheballoonlift.Onceagaintheytriedtoriseenoughtocatchthewindsatagreaterheight,andwereabletocontinueinanorth‐easterlydirection.Thenoneofthedragropesfastenedamongtheblocksoficebelow.Bythetimetheyhadmanagedtofreeit,thewarmthhaddisappearedandtheballoonwasnolongerascending.Therearenoentriesforthisday.Strindbergwritesfurtheronthatthecontinualthuddingofthegondolaagainsttheicemadehimfeelseasick.Butonthe

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morningofthefourteenthofJulytheirluckfinallychanged.”Eberleinliftedupanotherglass‐enclosednegative.Theimagewasagainoneofthespheres,butthistimethelightwasdifferent.AmistyhalosurroundedtheBunsenburner,thecrossandthestar.“Itwastakenatthreeinthemorning,”saidEberlein,indicatingthemarkingsattheloweredgeofthenegative.“Theyanchoredbyanicefloetorestforawhile,andthemidnightsunwassoweakthattocaptureanythingatallStrindbergwouldhavehadtousehismagnesiumflash.HemusthavelittheBunsenburnerfiftymetresawayfromtheballoon–youcanmakeoutthecontourofthegondolathroughthesphere.”Dontiltedthenegativetowardshimbutsawnothingexceptthethinrayfromthestarwhichfellonthelowerdome,archingabovethesilhouetteofthecross.“BythetimeNilsStrindbergcamebacktotheballoon,Andréehadplottedtheirpositionwithhissextantandwasreadytogiveup.ButwhenStrindbergshowedhim...”Eberleinmovedonafewpagesinthejournal,thenstopped,frowned,turnedbackafewpages,andfoundtheplace:

14July2hrs47dawnGreenw.tidtherayhasshiftedposition!

measuredtwiceafterpausew.safetyflamelat.82°55'N–lat.31°09'E

newapprox.distance:lessthan35kilometres!

“Asyoucansee,”Eberleincontinued,“therayhadmoved.Actually,thatshouldn’thavetakenStrindbergbysurprise‐hehadhimselfestimatedthattheshiftinpositionoccurredeverythreedayswhenhewasmakinghiscalculationsatStockholm’sUniversityCollege.TheyhaddepartedontheeleventhofJuly,andnowitwasthefourteenth,andthenewpositionthatthePoleStarindicatedwasatadistanceoflessthanfortykilometresaway.Theymadealastattempttogettheballoonairborneandjettisonedeverythingapartfromdryprovisions,rifles,snowshoesandthesledges.TheEagleliftedforafinaltimeupovertheiceandfloatedslowlynorthforalmostthirtykilometres.Atelevenminutespasteightintheeveningtheydecidedtheyhadcomecloseenoughtotheirgoal.AfterlandingAndréebegantoemptytheballoonofhydrogen.NilsStrindbergliftedoutthecamera,brushedthesnowfromtheimpregnatedbeechframesandtookelevenphotographsasthegiganticsilkballoondeflatedontotheice.Thefollowingmorningtheyassembledthesledgesandbeganwalkingthefinalfivekilometrestowardstheirgoal.”

Donleanedoverthejournal,hisfingersslowlyflickingoverthepages.Onthepagesafterthelastpositionmarkingstherewasakindofinventoryofeverythingthathadbeenpacked.Severaloftheitemshadeitherbeenreducedinweightorcompletelycrossedoff.Thelistendedwithacircledentry:

6bottlesofchampagnedonatedbytheKing

Donwasabouttoturnthepageswhenhenoticedthatstrangelythepagewiththelistseemedpoorlyattachedtothespine.Thenitcameawaycompletelyfromthebook,whereitseemedthelastpageshadbeentornout.Allthatremainedwasasinglesheet,foldedagainstthegreen‐checkedbackcover.HelookedupatEberlein,whoseemedtohavebeenwaitingforhisdiscovery. “Yes,isn’tthatodd?”Eberleinsaid.“Ofahundredandtwentyattachedpages,thelastthirteen

37

werealreadymissingwhenthejournalwasfinallyfoundattheendof1899.”TheGermanslidanegativeacrossthetable.Itappearedtobethelastonehehadtoshowthem.“Onesingleexposurefromthelastrolloffilmwasallthefoundationmanagedtodevelop.ItwasfoundbesideNilsStrindberg’sbody,inacoppercylinderinthepocketofhisfeltjacket.”InsidetheglassplatethatEberleinhadplacedinfrontofEvaandDoncouldbeseenablackened,crackednegativeshowingahazyreversedimagewithsomethingresemblingblackflakesofsleet.Behindthesnowawhiteholeshoneinthedarkice.“They’vereachedanicehole?”askedDon.“Notanicehole,”saidEberlein.“Lookattheoutside.”Donraisedthenegativeagain.Inthepicture,theedgesoftheholeformedaperfectcircle,andcomparingitwiththefigurelookingthroughbinoculars,standingbesideasmallflagattheedgeoftheorifice,heunderstoodthattheopeningdownintotheicewasverylarge,probably50metresindiameter.“Strindbergmusthavetakenthepicturehimself,”saidEberlein.“Hewastheonlyoneabletousethecamera.Butwehavenotbeenabletodeterminewhetherit’sFrænkelorAndréewhoislookingdownintothehole.”Dontriedinhismindtoreversethenegative’smonochrometoseehowitmusthavelookedonthatJulydayin1897.Inthedistance,acircularabyssinthewhitesnow,andrightattheedgethesilhouetteofthefigurewiththebinoculars.Itwasasifsomeonewithawelderhadcutatunneldirectlydownintothebowelsoftheearth.Eberleinindicatedthemarkingsattheloweredgeofthephotograph.“Eighty‐twodegreesandfifteenminutesnorthonthemorningofthesixteenthofJuly1897.Theyfindthemselvesatexactlythespotindicatedbytheray.Itmusthavetakenthemtwenty‐fourhourstoreachitafterleavingtheballoon.”Donputdownthenegativeandreleasedthelastfoldedsheetfromthebook.HelookedupatEberlein,whonodded.Thenheunfoldedthesheetinfrontofhimandsmootheditflatagainstthetablewithhisglovedfingers.Overthepagerancolumnsofnumbers:dates,precipitation,airpressureandwindforce.“It’sbeentornfromFrænkel’smeteorologicalreport,”saidEberlein.TheGermancarefullyturnedoverthesheetinDon’shands.Onthereverse,scribbledoverthetables,ininkthathadrunintopools,theoccasionallegiblewordcouldbemadeout,disconnectedandsprawlingacrossthepage:

Alllost!!!norththestrangershavealreadytheopeningAndréeandtheburnerexecution!Knutbleedsabdomen!morphine,sixdosesIhavesincemorningsoughtprotectioninvoicesabovemethedoorbelowopen!andtheyknow!thecross?andthestar!suckeddownthevault,thewallsfollowedusevenhere?whatTheEagle?theoldernamedJansen,butitwastheyoungercannotturnbackbut

38

Anna,Idearest,prettyAnna

“NilsStrindberg,writingtohisfiancée.”ItwasEvaStröm’svoice.“ToAnnaCharlier,”noddedEberlein.“It’sourlastlead.”

WhenDonalsolookedupfromthescatteredlines,Eberleinpulledthepapertowardshimandbegantofolditupslowly.Thenhereplacedit,withthemeteorologicalreadingsfacingoutwards,atthebackofthecheckedoilcloth‐coveredbook,andclosedit. “TalkingaboutAnnaCharlier,youcouldsaytheendofthestorywasunnecessarilytragic.MayI...?”EberleintookthelastnegativefromDon’shandandputitbackintheboxwiththejournal.Thenhecontinued:“ThebodiesofFrænkelandStrindbergwerefoundtwoyearslater.Theylaythirtymetresdowninanicecrack,wheretheyhadslid.Andrée’scorpsewasneverfound,butStrindberg’slastnotesseemtosuggestthathewasmurdered.TheonlydocumentationremainingfromtheexpeditionitselfisStrindberg’straveljournalandafewphotographs.Youhaveseenalmosteverythingthereistosee,andthatonlytakesuponesteelbox.“Andrée...”beganDon.Forsomereasonhewasunabletomovehistongue,butithadtobesaid.“Andrée’sbodywasinthelastcamponKvitoya.”“Kvitoya…?”queriedEberlein.“Yes,Kvitoya,”repliedDon.”Andrée’sbodylaythere.”Hiscrackedvoicegainedstrength.”YousurelyknowaboutthediscoveriesonKvitoya?Thelastcamp,wherethebodieswerefound,equipmentfromthelongtrekovertheice?AllNilsStrindberg’sphotographswhichhavebeenabletobedeveloped,and...” “AsIsaid,”interruptedEberlein,“thatpartofthestoryistragic,andnow,withhindsight,quiteunnecessary.”Helookeddownatthetable,andbegantogathertogethertherestofthenegatives.“Well,theSwedesdidn’tknowwheretolook,”Eberleincontinuedwithhisheadbowed.“ButtheGermansponsorsknewtheco‐ordinatesofthetargetedarea,andinthesummerof1899thefoundationsenttherescueexpeditionthatfoundthegondolabesidetheremnantsoftheballoon.Inthesleepingsection,onsomeblankets,werethelastcalculationsStrindbergandAndréemusthavemadebeforetheysetofftowardsthepositionoftheray.Itwassimplyaquestionoffollowingthem.”“Andwhentheygotthere?”saidDon.Eberleinlookedup.“Nohole,nocross,nostar.NoBunsenburner.ThebodiesofNilsStrindbergandKnutFrænkelwerefound,asIsaid,thirtymetresdowninanicecrevice.Frænkelhadbeenshotinthestomach.InStrindberg’srucksackwerethecoppercylinderswhichcontainedsomeofthepicturesIhaveshownyou,andhisoilclothbook.HehadhiddenFrænkel’smeteorologicalsheetinhisglove.Andthatwasalltheyknew–aboutasmuchasweknowtoday.”

Asilencefellinthelibraryvault,brokenonlybyagentleclinkingastheglassnegativesfellintoplaceinthemetalbox.ThenEvaStröm’svoicewasheardagain:“YousaidsomethingaboutStrindberg’sfiancée,AnnaCharlier?”

39

“Aprecautionarymeasure,”saidEberleinquietly.“Aprecautionarymeasurewhichwastakentoofar.Foralongtimethefinanciersbehindthefoundationthoughttheywouldbeabletofindoutwhothestrangerswere,thepeopleresponsibleforthemen’sdeath,andretrievethecrossandthestar.Theydidn’twantNobelorpeopleinSwedenaskingquestionsaboutthefateoftheexpedition.Andbecauseofthetermsofthecontract,theyalsosawthemselvesassoleownersofthecrossandthestar,aswellastheknowledgeabouthowtousethem,plusanyotherdiscoveriesStrindbergandAndréemighthavemade.Falsifyinganumberofdocumentswasnoproblem.TheywerefamiliarwithAndrée’shandwriting‐that’showhistwojournalsfromtheexpeditionwerecreated.ItwasthesameforStrindberg’sstenographicalannotationsandFrænkel’smeteorologicalreports.Thefeignedphotographsfromtheexpeditionwereprobablytheleastsuccessful–theystillgivequiteanarrangedimpression.Todeflectallinterestfromnorth‐easterlylatitudes,theythensetthetrailtofollowasouth‐westerlydirection.ThechoicefelltoKvitoya,northofSvalbard,asecludedplacewhichcouldbepreparedundisturbed.Therethelastcampwasconstructedandfinallythreebadlydecomposedbodieswereplacedthere,togetherwithanumberofobjectsfoundinthegondola.ToenabletheSwedestoidentifytheremains,Strindberg’sandAndrée’smonogramswerestitchedontotheclothes.Theworkwascarriedoutduringthelastsummermonthsofthecentury,butitwasn’tuntilthirtyyearsafterthetrailhadbeenlaidthatsomewalrushuntersfromÅlesundhappenedtocomeacrosstheplantedboathookengraved‘Andrée’spolarexpedition’.ThebodieswerelatercarriedinacortegethroughcentralStockholm,andthatwastheendofthat.“ButAndrée’sfamily,andNilsStrindberg’sAnna‐theymusthavenoticedthatthebodiesthatcamehomefromKvitoyawerecompletelydifferent?”saidDon.“Afterthirtyyearstherewasn’tmuchtosee,”repliedEberlein.“Andnotonlythat,theremainswerecrematedwithoutapostmortem,agreatscandalatthetime.”“AndAnnaCharlier?”EvaStrömspokeagain.“Theentireoperationwasoverdone,ofcourse,”saidEberlein.“Whatwouldithavematteredifthebodieshadneverbeenfound?Itwasallquiteunnecessary.AndasfarasAnnaCharlierwasconcerned,sheneverstoppedgrievingforNilsStrindberg.WhenshediedherheartwasremovedfromherbodyandburiedinasilverboxatStrindberg’ssideinthememorialgardenatNorraCemetery.Thefactthatherheartliesbesidethewrongboxhasalwaysseemedverycrueltome.MayI...?”Eberleinbegantofoldupthelargedrawingofthespheres.TheoldgluecrackledasthesheetofpaperclosedoverNilsStrindberg’sdrawingofthenorthernhemisphere.“Afterthecover‐uponSvalbardtheGermansponsorscontinuedtheirsearch.Astimepassed,thingssloweddown,ofcourse,andthefoundationbecamemoreofanarchive,thekeeperofasecret,ahistoricalriddlestillneedingananswer.Heplacedthefoldedsheetinthemetalboxandthereweretwoclicksasthelid’scatcheswereclosed.Thetablewasnowempty.“Todaytheoriginalfoundersaredead,ofcourse,butthefoundation’smissionremains,andthecontractthatwasoncemadewithStrindbergandAndréeisstillconsideredvalid.Asyoucanunderstand,ErikHall’sdiscoveryhasraisedhugeexpectations.Idon’tthinkI’mexaggeratingwhenIsaythatinGermanypeoplearepreparedtogoalongwaytoclarifywhathappened.”“YouwantStrindberg’sinstrumentsback,”saidDon.Eberleinsmiled.“Thefoundationwantswhatbelongstothem,whattheyhavepaidfor.”Theyellowish‐greeneyesstaredfrombehindtheanti‐reflectingglasses.“You,HerrTitelman,justhappentobethelastlinktoErikHall,tothedocumentandtheother

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objectheseemstohavefound...astar,perhaps?”Dontwistedinhischairandhishandslippeddowntowardsthepostcardinhisjacket.“Youmustalsobeinterestedingettingtothebottomofityourself,isn’tthatright?”saidEberlein.“Thecrossgone,troublewiththepolice.Perhapswecanbeofhelp.Andifit’saquestionofmoney...”AsEberlein’svoicefadedawayDonimaginedthedoubledoorsofthelibrary’scocoonopening,sawhimselfwalkingdownthespiralstairs,throughthebrightrooms,downthemarblestaircase,pastthegildedmirrorandoutthroughthefrontdoor.Thenheopenedhiseyes.“Itstruckme,asyouweretalking,thatErikHallmightjusthavementionedsomethingaboutastar...”ThesmileappearedagainonEberlein’sface,withhisslightlytooredmouth,hisdingyteeth.“Yes,somethingaboutastar,”continuedDon.“Thereweresomanydifferentversions.AsIsay,hewasalwayssodrunkwhenhephoned.”ThebackofthechaircreakedasEvaStrömturnedtofacehim.“Youmust...”shebegan.“Andnotonlyastar,”Donwenton.“ErikHallalsotoldmeaboutsomekindofdocumenthehadfounddownthere.Itwassuchanunimportantdiscoveryitslippedmymind.Afewlinesonaletter,ormaybeacardofsomekind.”ThenhelookedintoEberlein’seyes,tookintheexpensivesuit,thearroganceoftheGermanupperclass.“Didhesaywhatwaswrittenonit?”Eberleinaskedflatly.“Well,it’salittlehardtoremember...itwaslikeacode,Ithink,”saidDon.“Acode?”“Yes,orperhapsaverse.Amongthewordswasadateandaplacename.”“Sowhatcanyouremember?”“I…”beganDon.“Yes?”“Itdependshowyoucountthem,butyoucouldsayIcanrecallfourwordsaltogether.Thenameofaplaceandtheyear.TheHygieneInstituteoftheWaffen‐SS,Ravensbrück,1942.”

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1 9 t h e p o s t c a r d

Thecarpetingspreadoutinadarkpentagonaroundthetablewiththeclosedmetalbox,andasDonsilentlyliftedhiseyestothelibraryceilingheworkedoutthattheupperrowsofleather‐boundspinesmustbealmostfivemetresoffthefloor.Ifonlyhecouldfindawayofgettingthroughthatlasthalfmetreofoldinsulationandtheouterlayerofrooftileshewouldbeabletoseeoutoverthewidenightsky,perhapsevenmakeoutthetowerofSeglorachurch.ApossibletoolinthisescapeattemptwouldbethebrassstepladderonwheelswhichwasleaningacoupleofmetresawayfromtheslumpedfigureofToad,butsomehowtheangleoftheladderseemedfartoosteep.Climbingthewallwouldbeimpossible,Donnowrealised,fortherowsofbookshelveshadapparentlybeguntoleaninwards,asiftheroomitselfwasclosingoverthem.InthelightfromtheglasslampsEberlein’sjawswereworking.Doncouldseehowthemovementtransmitteditselfuptowardshistemples,wheretheGerman’sthinskinbeatasifhispulsewasracing.TherewasascrapingasToadsuddenlyrosefromthestooloverbythebrassladder.OnhiswaytothetableheavoidedlookingdirectlyatEvaandDonandwentstraighttoEberlein,bendinghiswideheadclosetheframesofEberlein’sglasses.ItwasimpossibletohearwhatToadwhispered,butfromthegutturalintonationDonunderstoodthatthewordsweresaidinGerman.Eberleinstaredstraightaheadashelistened,hiseyesfixedonapointfarbeyondDontothelockeddoubledoors.WhenToadhadfallensilentEberleinnoddedslowly.Thenhestoodupandstraightenedthesleekfabricofhistrousers.Thenhesaid:“Ihavetomakeaphonecall.”Thistimehissmilewassuperficialanddidnotreachhiseyes,andtheGerman’sface,whichhadbeensoanimatedduringthelongtale,wasnowonceagainpalegreyandsilent.

WhenthelighthaddisappearedafterEberlein’sexit,Toadthrewhimselfdownoppositethematthetable.EvaStrömhadalreadybeguntogatherupherpapersandputthem,togetherwithherpen,inherhandbag.Asherhandreappearedoutofthebagitheldaredmobilephone.ShelookedenquiringlyatToad,butheonlyshrugged.Afterafewsecondsthedisplayhadcometolifeandthelawyerquicklytappedinanumber.WhileshewaitedforthesignalshefixedhereyesonDon.Henoticedhowherforeheadwrinkled.Shelookeddownatthephoneandtriedagain,takinglongerbetweentheeachdigit.Nexttothedigitsthereceptioncolumnindicatedlow.Toad’shalf‐closedeyesopenedslightly.“Youhavealandlineinthehouse,Itakeit?”EvaStrömasked.Atfirsttherewasnoreaction,butwhenDonrepeatedthequestioninGermanToadshookhismassivehead.

DonwatchedEvamakeanotherattempt,butthenhisthoughtsbegantowander.Itwasasiftheamphetamineshadcorrodedacrackinhismemoryandwhereoncetheimageshadseemedsoclear,everythingwasnowcloudedandspinning.

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ThephotographshehadseenofthelastcamponKvitoya–Strindberg’sbodyburiedundertheheapofstones,Andrée’slogbook,theskeletalremainsofKnutFraenkel–appearedindoubleexposureagainstEberlein’sblacknegatives.Dongaveadrycough,alaughhehadmanagedtosmotheronitswayoutofhiswindpipe,ashethoughtofthesketchedspheres,therayoverthenorthernhemisphere,andthecarefulmovementofEberlein’sfingersintheircottongloves.Itwaslikebeinginahallfullofbrokenmirrors,andtogethimselfoutoftherehedidwhatseemedtohimtobetheeasiestthing:heopenedhisbagandtookout6mgsofAlprazolam.

Donjusthadtimetoscrewthelidbackonwhentherewasaclickinthelockbehindhimandlightagainstreamedinfromthedoubledoors.Eberleinwasback.“Youcan’thavehadmuchluck,”saidEvaStröm,whentheGermancameuptothetable.Helookedatherquestioningly.“Yourassistanttellsmethere’snolandline.Andyoucan’tmakecallsfrominhere.”Sheshowedhimhermobile.“No,that’strue,”saidEberlein.“It’sprobablybecauseofthebuggingprotection.ThereissomekindofinterferencetransmitterinthehouseasfarasIunderstand.AsIsaid,thebuildingnowbelongstotheGermanEmbassyandtheyhavetheirspecialrules.”EvaStrömreturnedherphonetoherbagandpushedbackherchair.“Telephoneornot,it’stimeforustoleave,ifyouhavenomorequestions.Ireallyhopewehavecometotheendofthispeculiarouting.”HerlastwordswereaimeddirectlyatthebaldingSecurityPoliceofficerandhiscolleague,whohadnowenteredintothelibrary.“I’mafraiditwon’tbequitelikethat,”saidEberlein.OnceagainheplacedhishandonDon’sshoulder,andpresseditlightly:“EvenifIpersonallywanttotrustyourwordsaboutRavensbrück,theydon’tseemtohavemademuchofanimpressioninGermany.Theytalkaboutgivingyouachoice.AchoiceIwouldprefertodiscusswithyoualone.”“Idon’tunderstand,”saidEvaStröm.ButEberleinhadalreadysignalledtotheSecurityPoliceofficersandthebaldingonewalkeduptoherandtookholdofherarm.Itlookedatfirstasifthelawyerwasgoingtorefuse,butthensheresignedherselftothesituationandstoodupslowly,hermovementsstiffaftersomanyhoursspentsittingdown,thehigh‐buttonedblousecreased,blueveinsshowingthroughherpaletights.Eberleinhelduphercoat.“Itwillonlytakeafewminutes,”hesaid.Evatookthecoatwithoutanswering,putherbagoverhershoulderandgaveDonalonglook.“Whateverhesays,wewillsoonbebackinFalun,”shesaid.

WhenthedoubledoorshadclosedbehindEvaStrömandthetwoSecurityPoliceofficers,EberleinsathimselfdowninthechairbesideDon.Thatwhiffofperfumeagain,aheavyaroma,theimpossibilityofrelinquishinghisgaze.TheGerman’shandonDon’skneewasthin,narrow‐wristed,asifitbelongedtoawoman.“Therearesomanymodernmethodsnowadays,”saidEberlein.Donlookedtowardsthedoors,butthesoftvoiceluredhimback.“Whatbeforewasasimplelockcantodayconsistofdevicesthatreadtheirisofaneyeorthe

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linesofafingerprint.Andtalkingaboutfingers,someofthesesystemsaresoadvancedtheycanevendetectwhethertheskiniswarmorcold,todeterminewhetherthefingerisattachedtoalivingperson.”

DontriedinvaintosummonuptheeffectsoftheAlprazolam.“But,aswitheverything,thereisroomforcleverlymadefalsifications.”Eberleinpattedhisthigh.“Anyonewhowantedtocreateacopyofyourfingerprint,forexample,wouldbeabletobrushthechinacup,whichyouusedsorecentlyhereinthelibrary,withafinecharcoalpowder.Thentheycouldlifttheimprintfromthecupwithsomethingassimpleastransparentadhesivetape.Aneedlewouldbeusedtoetchthelinesfromthetapeontoafingertip‐sizedmould,whichcouldthenbefilledwithafinelayerofgelatine.Whengelatinesetsitcanconductelectricityandheat,justlikeyourownskin,soyouwouldhaveafalsefingertipthatwouldfoolanyfingerprintreadingsystemyoulike.”“I’vealwayshadaloveoftechnicaldetails,”saidDon.“Therearemanypossibleareasofuse,”Eberleincontinued.“Onewouldbetoimprintacoupleofyourfingertipsontothebrokenbottle,whichwillbelyingclearlyvisiblesomewhereintheundergrowthbyErikHall’slake.Ofcourse,wewouldbeforcedtohandinthebottleimmediatelytotheSwedishpolice‐itwouldbecompletelyillegaltokeepsuchanimportantcluetoourselves.Amurderweaponwiththeculprit’sfingerprints–somethinglikethathastoberegardedasconclusive.”Donfelthimselfnodding.“Butit’salaboriousprocess,”sighedEberlein.HetookhishandfromDon’sthighandleanedbackinhischair.“Yes,itdoessoundcomplicated,”saidDon.“PerhapsthebrokenbottlethatkilledpoorErikHallwon’tevenbefound.Inthatcaseitwouldbealotofworkfornothing.”Donnoddedagain.“Perhapstherewon’tevenbeanyreasonforustolook.MaybeyouandyoulawyercouldfindasuitableexplanationwhichwouldmakeeverythingIhavejustdescribedunnecessary.”Donmadethelightdisappearbyslowlyclosinghiseyes,thenhetriedtorechargehisthoughtsbyrubbingthesideofhisnosewithhisfingers.Finallyhesaid:“Wovonmannichtsprechenkann,darübermußmanschweigen.Aboutthingsyouknownothing,youcansaynothing.”Eberleinsmiled.“Youhaveuntiltomorrowmorningtothinkaboutit.”

DonheardToadmovetowardsthedoubledoorsandthenthesoundofalightknocking.WhenheopenedhiseyeshesawthatboththeSecurityPoliceofficershadremainedoutsidewithEva,overbytheblackwindow.Herosehesitantlyfromhischair,hishandonhisshoulderbag.“Youraccommodationwillberatherconfinedandlessthanperfect,I’mafraid,”saidEberlein.“Butyouwillhavetobecontentwithwhatthehousehastooffer.”ThenhefeltToad’shandonhisbackandfoundhimselfpropelledslowlyoutofthelibrary,onthewaytothewindingspiralstaircase.

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2 0 t h e s y r i n g e

“Einriesigeshefker,”repeatedDontohimself,whetherforthefifthortwentiethtime,hehadnoidea.Theysatsidebyside,eachontheirownplastic‐wrappedfoammattressinasmallpantry,theirbacksleaningagainstasideboard.“Wheredoesthatcomefrom?”askedEvaStröm.“Einriesigeshefker?”Donwincedashetriedtochangeposition.TheacheinhisneckhadstartedashewaslisteningtoEberlein’slongtaleinthelibraryandnow,afteryetmorehoursofwakefulness,ithadstartedtospreadthroughhisupperarmsanddowntowardshishandsandfingers.“Theonlygoodthingleftbymypaternalgrandmother.Yiddishwithamusicalpronunciation.”“Sowhatwouldyourgrandmotherhavecalledthis?”Evaasked.“Einriesigeshefker,”repeatedDon.“Ahellofamess.”EvaStrömgrinned.“Einriesigeshefker,”shesaid.“Yes,verytrue.”

TheyhadfollowedToad’sswayingbackthroughthelabyrinthinebasement.Viaadiningroomwithaceilingpaintedwithtwoeaglesinflightagainstapaleblueskytheyhadatlastarrivedatakitchen.ThereToadhadunlockedadoorwhichledintothewindowlesspantry.AfteraskingEvaandDontostepin,hehandedoverthekeystothebaldingpoliceofficer.Thecupboarddoorswerecoveredwithyellow‐marbledwoodpanellingandtherewereshelvesabovethesinkanddrainingboard.Theshiningzincsplashbackreflectedbowlscontainingwhisksandladles,andtwoheavyrefrigeratorsstoodwhirringnexttothegrey‐speckledlaminatesurfaceoftheworktop.Behindatintedglassdoorwithasmallkeyholeawinecellarcouldbeseen,thebottlesrestingonelegantmetalracks.Toadhadnoddedtowardsthetwomattressesonthefloorandthetherewasarattlingasthebaldingofficerlockedthedoor.TobeginwithDonhadbeenabletohearmurmuringinSwedishontheothersideofthelockeddoor,butthewhisperinghadsoonceased.PerhapsthetwoSecurityPoliceofficershadfallenasleep.Itwas,afterall,gettingonforthreeinthemorning.

DuringthehoursspentinthepokyroomDonandEvahadtimetogobackwardsandforwardsoverEberlein’sthreat.WhenDonhadfirsttoldher,Evahadnotbelievedhim,butthenshesaidthataftereverythingthathadhappenedsincetheyhadleftFalunpolicestation,theissueoffalsifiedfingerprintswastheleastsurprising.DonhadsaidsomethingabouttheGermantraditionofpairingsensory‐bewilderingtheorieswithmercilessmethodology,andastheirtirednessincreasedakindofsleep‐deprivedlight‐headednesscreptoverthemboth,andsoonthepantrywasfilledwithmuffledlaughter.

Evagotupfromhermattressandwentovertothelongdrainingboard.Sheopenedafewcupboarddoorsatrandomandfinallyfoundalargeglasswhichshefilledwithwater.Thensheseemedtochangehermindandpouredthewateroutintothesink.Donfollowedhergazetowardsthedarkglassdoorsandthewinecellar’sshadowyrowsofbottles.“Youdidresearchintoreligioussymbolism,didn’tyou?”saidEva.Donnodded,butshehadalreadyturnedawayandbeguntosearchthroughthedrawersunder

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theworksurface.“Sowhatisthesymbolicmeaningofaknife?”“Aknife?”Heopenedthelidtohismemoryanddiscoveredsomelingeringremnantsthathadnotbeentamperedwith.“Sacrificeandrevenge.Death.”Hetookadeepbreathandcontinued,hiseyesclosed:“Cuttingwithaknifecansymboliseliberation,asinBuddhism.Asignofthebirthoftheego,cuttingthroughallignoranceandpride.”HeheardEvarummagingaroundinthedrawers.“ForChristianstheknifemeansmartyrdom.TheapostleBartholomewwasflayedalivewithaknife,forexample.”Eva’sheelsclickedasshewalkedoverthestonefloortiles.“FortheNazistheknifebelongedtogetherwiththeswastika.Theemblemoftheirforerunner,theThulesociety,wasadaggeroveraswastika.SS‐menweregivendouble‐edgeddaggersattheirenlistment,whichtheyweretoprotectwiththeirverylives.TheyhadthebizarreideathatinthiswaytheywereennobledindirectdescentfromtheGermanorderofknights.”Therewasaclatterandthensilence,butDonhadonlyjustbegun:“InNorsemythologythegoddessHel’sdishwashungerandherknifewassaidtobecalled...”“Thanks,that’senough,”saidEva.“Herknifewassaidtobecalledfamine.”WhenDonlookeduphesawthatEvahadturnedtofacehim.Inherhandsheheldasmallpointedtableknifewithawoodenhandle.“WhatIwanttoknow,”saidEva,walkingtowardsthecellardoor,“WhatIwanttoknowisifaknifecanbeseenas…”Shestucktheknifeintothekeyhole.“Asakey.”Therewasasnapasthefrailcatchoftheglassdoorbroke.“ThiswillbesomethingtowriteaboutintheLawyers’Journal,”saidDon.“Therearelimitstowhatyoucanputupwith,”saidEva.Sheworkedtheknifeinthedoorframe,openedthedoor,anddisappearedintothegloom.

Donhadalmostnoddedoffwhenheheardherheelsinsidethewinecellargettingcloser.TheglassdoorsswungopenandEvagentlyplacedadustybottleonthedrainingboard.ItwasblackandroundedandonitslabelDoncouldread‘Graham’sVintagePort’.“TheAmbassadorhasafinecollection,”saidEva.“Thisisfrom1948.”Sheliftedtwogreen‐tintedglassesfromthecupboardabovethesinkandputthembesidethebottleofport.Donwatchedhermovementsfromhismattress.“Oneofthegreats,”shewenton,assheremovedthesealstrip.“Oneofthereallygreatvintages,isn’t?”ThatwasaquestionwaybeyondDon’sknowledge.“Well,youmightpretendnottobeinterested…”Evapulledoutthecork.“...butI’mtellingyouthatthe48ismagnificent.Thisportcouldhavebeenstoredforatleastanotherfiftyyearswithoutbeingspoiled.Itispracticallyimmortal.”ShepouredtheportandhandedoneglasstoDon.Henoticedhowshewatchedhisexpressioncloselyasheliftedittohismouth.

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“AtasteofpostwarLisbon,”saidEva.Whenhetookhisfirstsip,Donthoughtthatwithitsstrong,almostinexplicablyconcentratedtasteofcoffeeandcaramel,itwaslikedrinkingsyrup.“ItwasanunusuallycoldJulythatyear,”Evacontinued,afterswirlingtheportaroundhermouth.“AtthebeginningofAugustanoppressivedryheatsetinandthegrapesripenedfast.IfIremembercorrectly,theheatwassopowerfulthattheyhadtobringforwardharvesting,butevensomostofthefruitdriedup.Ittastedremarkablysweeteventhen.Atthebeginningofthesixties,the48wasalreadyaclassic,comparabletothe1942,whichwasalsoanamazingyear.”Shemovedhertongueoverhersweetnessonherlips.“Forwine,perhaps,”saidDon,puttinghisglassdown.Hegotupclumsilyfromthemattressandmadeanattempttoshakeoffthestiffnessinhisarmsandlegs.Hisreflectioninthesplashbacklookedlikethemechanicalmovementsofascarecrow.HecouldalsoseeareflectionofEvaStröm,proppedagainstthedrainingboard.Underthespeckledherringbonepatternofherjacketherbrownblousewashalfundoneandalockofgreyhairhadcomelooseandfallenacrosshereyes.“Seewhatyoucanfindyourself,”shesaid,andnoddedtowardstheforcedglassdoor.“Theremustbesomethingelsewecando?”saidDonirritably.Butsheonlyshruggedhershoulders.

Itwascoldinsidethewinecellar.Theairthatstreamedtowardshimwasrawashemadehiswaybetweentherowsofprotrudingbottles,andtheinsetbulbsgaveoutadulllight.Onabarrelstoodagildedcorkscrewandtwocrystalglasses,andbesidethebarrelastaircaserandowntowhatappearedtobealowerlevel.WithaglanceoverhisshoulderDoncouldmakeoutthefigureofEvathroughthedarkenedglass,butalthoughshewaswaitingforhimhedecidedtogoondownthestairs.Thewallsofthewinecellar’slowerfloorwerecoveredinroughbrickwork.Thethickplanksliningthewallsweresetclosetogetherandfilledwithrowsofdirtybottles.Afewnakedlightbulbshungfromthehighceiling,fromfabric‐coveredcables.Donwonderedhowthelawyerhadfoundwhatshewaslookingforsoquickly.Notbeingagreatconnoisseurhimselfhesupposedthebestselectionwasalwaysstoredfurthestin,sowhenhereachedthefarendofthewinecellarhestoodontiptoeanddrewoutabottlefromthemiddleoftheupperrow.Itlookedratherinsignificantandwaslabelled1997.Thenextwasbetter,aBurgundyfrom1974andthethird,from1951,seemedreallypromising.“Ifyou’vesavedsomethingthatlongitmustbegood,”Dommutteredtohimself.Thenhelookedbackattheemptyplaceontheshelf,wherethebottleshadbeen.

EvaStrömwasstillproppedagainstthedrainingboardwhenDoncamebackuptothepantry.Shelookedmoretiredthanwhenhehadlefther,andnolongerinterestedinthebottleofport.“Thissagahasgottocometoanend,”shesaid.“There’ssomethingdownthereyouhavetosee,”answeredDon.

Heledherbackintothewinecellar,closedthedoorbehindthemandmadesureitwasproperlyshut.Afterwalkingalongthenarrowspacesbetweentheracks,pastthebarrelwiththecrystalglasses,theymadetheirwaydowntothelowercellar.Ontheflooraboutfiftybottleswerelinedup,whichDonhadclearedfromthetopshelf.“Youdon’tstintyourself,”saidEvaStröm.Donpointedatahalf‐metrehighwoodencratethathehademptiedtostandonashelifteddown

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thebottles.Evatookafewpacesforward,lookedathimenquiringly,andsteppedupontothebox.Withherfingersonthetopshelf,shepeeredintotheopeningthathadbeencreatedwhenthebottleshadbeenremoved.“Youcanseeit,can’tyou?”saidDon.Evanodded,thenstretchedherarminside.“Ican’treachtheback,”shesaid.“Itlooksasifit’smadeofglass,”hesaid.“Ican’t…”Afterafinalattempt,Evagaveup,withdrewherarmandlookeddownathim.“Andwhathadyouthoughtofdoingnow?”sheaskedhim,stillgrippingthetopshelftokeepherbalance.“Helpmegettherestofthebottlesoutoftheway,”saidDon.Evalookedathiminquestioningly,butfinallyshepasseddownabottleofBordeaux,followedbyanotherandthenanother,andwhenthetopshelfwasemptytheylifteditoffthewallandbegantheworkofemptyingthenextrow.Soonthefarendofthewinecellarwascoveredindustybottles,andwhentheyhadremovedasecondplanktheyhadnoneedtostandonthewoodencasetoreachup.Now,previouslyhiddenbehindtheshelvesupneartheceiling,asmallsquarecellarwindowhadbecomevisible,itsredandbluestainedglasssmearedintheaccumulateddirtofmanyyears.Donstampedonthewoodenboxtobreakitupandwithdifficultymanagedtoleveroffoneofitsplanks.Tworustynailsprotruded,andhehelditinhishandlikeaweapon.“Whatiftheyhear?”askedEva.Donshruggedhisshoulders.

Insilencetheycontinuedemptyingtheshelvesuntiltheyreachedthelowerone,whichtheyfoundtobeattachedtothewallwithscrews.Donwaspleasedaboutthat,thinkingitmightbearhisweight.HebeckonedtoEvatosupporthim.Ashegraspedhershoulderhepushedhimselfawayfromthebottomshelf.Whenhehoistedhimselfupheswayedbackwards,sothatEvahadtopushhimbacktowardsthewallincasehelosthisbalance.Thelittlecellarwindowwasnowwithinreach,lessthanhalfametreabovehishead.Donbouncedonthepliableshelfanditseemedtotakehisweight.Thenhestretchedouthishand.“Giveittome.”Evahandedhimtheplankwiththeprotrudingnails.“Nowyou’vegottosupportmyback,”hesaid.Nothinghappened“You’vegotto…”Thenhefeltbothherhandsonhisback.Hetookafirmgripontheplank,thenailsfacingoutward.Hehadnoideahowhardhewouldhavetostrike,sohetriedagentletaptostartwith.Therewasascrapingasthenailsbouncedoffthestainedglass.Hemadeasecondattempt,harderthanthefirst,asharppowerfulblow,andthewindowcracked,fallinginblueandredshardsontothefloor.TherewasthesharpcrunchingofbrokenglassandDonfeltEva’sfingerspressingintohisback.Then,afteralongsilence,hervoicecamefrombehindhim:“Yes,well,thatwascertainlydiscreet.”Donpulledoneofhisjacketsleevesasfaroverhishandaspossibleandbegantoknockouttherestoftheglassfromtheedgesofthecellarwindow.Hecouldalreadyfeelhowthenightairhad

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beguntoseepin.Whenmostofthepiecesofglasshadbeenremoved,heletgohisholdonhissleeveandstretchedhishandoutthroughthewindow.Abouttwentycentimetresdownhecameacrosssomethingdamp,andwhenhedrewhishandbackintothecellarhesawinthelightofthebulbthathisfingerswereblackwithearth.HeshowedEva.“I’mnotsosurethisisagoodidea,”saidEva.Herhairwasamess,hereyesred‐rimmed.“Haveyougotabetterone?”askedDon,andclimbeddown.Therewasnoanswer.

TheamphetaminestogetherwiththeAlprazolamhadreallykickedinnow,anditwaswithafeelingofremarkablecalmthatDonmovedbacktowardstheglassdoorandintothepantry.Hisblackshoulderbagwasstillthereontheplastic‐coveredmattress,theceilinglightreflectedinitswornleather.Helifteditupbyitsstrapandthenwentovertothelockedkitchendoortolisten.Nofootsteps,novoices,couldbeheard.Helookedattheclock.Itwasfour‐thirtyandtheoutsideofthehousewouldstillbeindarkness.Abriskjogalongtheoak‐lineddriveandhewouldbeoutontheroadwhichranpasttheoutdoormuseumofSkansen.FromtherehewouldbeabletoreachKarlaplanandgetanundergroundtrainnorth,totheonlyplaceheknewtobesafe.Thenhebegantowonderaboutthejogging–whenhadheactuallydonethatlast?Althoughhehadalwayshadanexcellentmemory,hecouldnotrecallanyimagesofthattypeofexercise.Butsomething,probablytheAlprazolamcombinedwiththeamphetamines,gaveDonthefeelingthatinahardpressedsituationlikethishewouldactuallybeabletomoveveryfast.Heputhisbagoverhisshoulder,checkeditwassecurelyinplace,andwithalastglancetowardsthepantrypulledtheglassdoorclosedbehindhim.

Inthebrick‐linedvaultEvaStrömwaswaiting,lookingupatthegapingcellarwindow.“It’sfartoosmall”shesaid.“You’llnevergetout,andevenifyoudid,whatwouldyoudothen?”“Ihaveagoodidea,”saidDon.“Thatsoundscomforting,”repliedEva,herarmsfoldedacrosstheherringbone.“Betterthanstayinghere,”saidDon.“Sowhataboutit?”Evalookedawayatthestaircasetotheupperfloor.Thensheshruggedhershouldersandsaid:“Alawyermustalwaysseeawayoutofaprocessandneverleadaclientintoadeadendwherethedoorslamsshutbehindhim.”Shelookeduptowherehehadnowheavedhimselfintoastandingposition,balancingonthebottomshelf.“Goodluck.”Donhadtakentwowhiteteaclothswithhimwhenheleftthepantry.Nowhewrappedthemroundhishands,stretchedthemuptothewindowframe,andgrabbedhold.Whenhediscoveredthestrengthinhisarmswasnotenough,hecalledforhelp.Evagavehimashoveupwardsandthenhestoodwithhisbootonhershoulder.“Thisisn’tverydignified,”hethoughtheheardhersay,justbeforehegotagoodgrip,hauledhimselfupandlandedwithhischesthalfwayoutofthewindow.Therewasasuddensharppaininhisstomachfromshardofglasshehadmissed.Thenhe

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turnedhisheadcautiously,lookingaroundatthefreedomoutside.Totheleft,afewmetresaway,heglimpsedthevilla’sbrownwoodencladding.Totherightwasthecoverofbranchesandleaves.Gardenshrubs,thoughtDon,andpulledhimselfalittlefurtherforwards.Thenhemanagedtogethislegsoverthesillandfinallycroucheddownwithhisbackagainstthedarkouterwall.“What’sitlooklike?”Thewhispercamefromthecellarbelow.Donedgedasquietlyashecouldbacktothewindowagain.HelookeddownatEvaStröm’sfacebelow,lookingmoreworriednow.“Ididn’tthinkyouwereserious,”shehissed.“Youwereagreathelp,anyway,”saidDon.Shenoddedandlookedundecidedlyaroundtheemptybrickvault.“Soyou’restayingput?Donasked.“I...”Hereacheddownhishand.Evaslowlyuncrossedherarmsandtookahesitantstepforwards.Dongrippedoneofherwristsandmanagedtoliftherontothebottomshelf.Hetookanothergrip,thistimebothherwrists.Heleanedback,hisbootspushingagainsttheouterwindowsill.Shewassurprisinglylight.Itwaslikeliftingachild.Whenhehadmanagedtomanoeuvrehermostofthewayout,DonheardEvasuddenlycryout.Immediatelyheletgoofherhands,watchingherkickonelegjerkilyagainsttheother,asifshehadfastenedonsomething.Thenfinallyshemanagedtofreeherselfandcreptupalongsidehimagainstthewallofthehouse.Shereacheddowntotouchoneofherlegsandshowedhimherfingers.ItwasimpossibletoseeinthedarknessbutwhenDontookholdofherhandhefeltitwascoveredwithsomethingthickandglutinous.“I’vecutmyleg.Youmighthavebeen…”Eva’svoicewasstillcontrolled,butshesoundedtense.“Youmighthavecheckedthatglassmorecarefully.”Doncouldnotthinkofasuitableanswer.Insteadhetookoneoftheteaclothsandpresseditontheplacesheindicated,directlybelowthefoldofherknee,agashtencentimetreslong,runningacrosshercalf.Hefelthergrasphishand,agripthattightenedasthepainfromherlegintensified.TheyremainedlikethatforafewminutesuntilDonheard,throughherquickbreathing,thesoundoffootsteps.“Someone’scoming,”hehissed.Heheardhowshetriedtoholdherbreath,takingshortsniffsthroughhernose,herlipspressedtightlytogether.

Doncrawledthroughthebushes,movingbranchesasidesothathecouldsee.There,outontheterrace,litupbythefacadelights,stoodthebaldingSecurityPoliceofficer.Hehadtakenacigarettefromapacketandsoonaflamecouldbeseenabovehishand,followedbyaglowasheinhaled.Hehadstoppedonlyabouttenmetersfromthebusheswheretheywerecrouched,hiddeninthedarknessupagainstthewall.Donpickedupthechokingsmellofsmoke.Somedistanceaway,attheturningpointinthedrive,wasthesilvergreycombiestate.TheSecurityofficerfinishedhiscigaretteslowly,thenshookoutanotherfromhispackandstuckitbetweenhislips.

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Donbeganrummagingthroughhisbagwiththeidioticideaoffindingaweaponofsomekind.HeheardEvabehindhimshiftpositioncautiously.Hermovementsagainstthewalloughtnottohavebeenaudible,butsomethinginthestanceofthebaldingmanchanged.Heremovedthecigarettefromhismouthandthrewittotheground.Thenheturnedaround,hisgazedirectedatthecornerroom.InaninstantDonrealisedtheyhadbeendiscovered,butwhentheSecurityPoliceofficertookhistimeapproaching,heknewtherewasstillachance.Helookeddownatthesmallplastictubehehadmanagedtofindinhisshoulderbag,surprisedathowfamiliarhewaswithallitsfoldsandpockets.HetriedslowlybackingtowardsEvabutthatonlymadethemanpickupspeed.Hebentdownandsweptthebranchesaside.

Theneverythinghappenedveryfast.

Donfelthimselfbeingliftedupbyhisrightarmanddraggedtowardsthebrightlightoftheterrace.SomewherealongthewayhemusthavesucceededinstrikingtheSecurityofficeronthelegwithhisflailingboot,becauseheloosenedhisgripslightly.InthatsplitsecondDonmanagedtoturnhimselfaroundandputtheplastictubeinhismouth.Withhisteethhetoreawaythesyringe’sprotectivecoverandstabbedthelongneedlerandomlyattheofficer’sneck.Therewasnodoubtthatithadmetitstargetandsunkdeep,forthemanletoutayellandletgohisholdofDon,butwhenDonlookedupfromthegraniteterracewhathesawconfusedhim.Thesecurityofficerwasstillstanding,lookingmoresurprisedthananythingelse.AtfirstDoncouldnotunderstandwhathadgonewrong,butthenhenoticedtheplungerinthesyringehadnotbeenpusheddown.Theplastictubewobbled,itsneedleintheofficer’sneck,whilethemanfumbled,tryingtofindwherethepainwascomingfrom.ThensuddenlyafigureinherringbonelimpedintothelightandfrombehindaslimwhitehandgrabbedthesyringeandpresseddowntheplungerinjectingsixmillilitresofThalamonaldirectlyintotheofficer’sbloodstream.Heswayed,staggeredafewmetressideways,thencollapsedontothegranitepavingstones.EvaStrömcroucheddownbesidethefallenbody,herhandsholdingherbleedingleg.Donranupandbegansearchingtheofficer’spockets.Hecurseduntilfinallyhefoundthecarkey.HetookholdofEvaStröm’sarmandputitoverhisshoulders.Theystaggeredtowardsthedriveandthesilvergreycombi.

Fromafewmetresawayheusedtheremotetounlockthedoors.Evamadenosoundandseemedtobeinshock.Dontippedherintothepassengerseat,racedpantingroundtothedriver’sside,toreopenthedoorandthrewhimselfbehindthewheel.Afteroneunsuccessfulattemptinthedarkhelittheinteriorlighttolookfortheignition,thenturnedthekeyandheardthesoundofapowerfulengine,somethingthatcouldcarrythemawayfast.Hereleasedthehandbrakeandbeganslowlyrollingdownthetree‐lineddrive.ItthenoccurredtoDonthatheoughttopickupspeedandtherewasascreechasthewheelsspunagainsttheasphalt.Atthelastminutehemanagedtosteerclearofthehugetreetrunkthatcamerushingtowardshim,andthewheelsspunofftowardsSkansenandthewaterofBrunnsviken.

OnDjurgårdsvägenEvashoutedoutasthecarshook,andDonskiddedtoahaltbyabusshelter.Hedugaroundinhisbagagainandfoundfourviolettablets,butaftershehadswallowedthemDonwentcoldasherealisedhehadgotthedosecompletelywrongforsomeonewhowasnotusedtothem.Pattinghergentlyonthethighhelookeddownatherleg.Hertightswerewetthroughandfilthy,

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andwhenheremovedhershoeitwasfullofblood.Hewoundthesecondteaclothroundherlegashardashecouldandtiedittight.Whenhelookedupagain,Eva’sheadhadslumpedagainstthebackofherseat.Donlookedintherearviewmirroranddecidedatthelastminutehewouldprobablyhavetimetopulloutbeforetheapproachinglorryroaredpast.Helaunchedthecombioutontotheroadandflooredtheaccelerator.Strandvägen,hethought.Strandvägen,Hamngatan,CentralUndergroundStation.Dumpthecarandthen:thebluelinenorth.

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