Karin Fossum - Bad Intentions

‘You’re not going to throw up, are you?’

Axel looked inside his car again. He made a decision.

‘No bloody way am I letting a pissed Chinese guy into my car,’ he said. ‘He’s going to be sick all over the place. He’ll ruin the seats. We’ll put him in the boot.’

Reilly shook his head in disbelief. ‘The boot, are you serious? No, you have got to be joking.’

‘Come here,’ Axel said. ‘Give me a hand.’

‘Surely that’s not wise?’ Jon said.

‘I’m not very wise this late at night,’ Axel said.

Kim protested a little when they picked him up and put him in the boot, but then he seemed content once more. He curled up and closed his eyes. Perhaps he hadn’t even noticed the lid slamming shut. It began to snow. Small, dry flakes which danced in the headlights. Reilly closed his eyes. After the uproar at Irene’s, the silence was welcome. The only sound was the constant spinning of the engine. Axel Frimann was driving, Jon dozed on the back seat. Reilly looked forward to being back in his own bed. The many hours of loud music had made him feel dizzy. They were approaching the town. At a roundabout they debated which exit to take.

‘I wonder why they come here,’ Axel said.

Reilly gave him a quizzical look. ‘Who?’

‘All the foreigners.’

‘It’s obvious why they want to come here,’ Reilly said. ‘Norway’s a much better country. Is that so hard to understand?’

‘But it’s so cold here,’ Axel said. ‘Look.’

He pointed to the display on the dashboard. ‘It’s minus seventeen.’

‘I don’t suppose they worry about the cold,’ Reilly said. ‘They want food and a job. They want the freedom that we have. They want to be able to walk in the street without having to show ID papers and all that. They want to say what they want and write what they want. It’s not like that everywhere, as you well know. Of course people want to come here.’

‘That guy in the boot,’ Axel said. ‘Why do you think he came here?’

‘I guess he came with his parents,’ Reilly suggested. ‘And they probably came here to get a job. And a house. The kind of things people normally want.’ He turned and checked the back seat. ‘Are you asleep, Jon?’

When they reached Nattmål, Axel pulled up by the letterboxes. He stepped out into the snow, which squeaked underneath his shoes, and some tiny snowflakes landed in his brown hair. Jon woke up and rubbed his eyes.

Icy air poured into the car.

Axel opened the boot.

‘We’re here,’ he called out. ‘Out you come!’

Reilly came to help. He slipped a couple of times, and had to hold on to the car for support.

‘Look at his eyes,’ Axel said. ‘Something’s wrong with them.’

Reilly leaned over to have a look. ‘He’s lying on his back,’ he said. ‘That’s not good.’

‘Surely it makes no bloody difference which way he’s lying,’ Axel barked. ‘Let’s get him out.’

He bent over Kim Van Chau to get a better look at him.

‘Hey, Kim. Wake up, damn you!’

Nothing happened in the boot. They started prodding him. Axel slapped him gently across the face, but to no effect. He was still. Reilly started pacing up and down in the snow. His long coat flapped around his legs.

‘Do you think he’s passed out?’

Axel snarled at him. ‘Of course he has. He’s not responding.’

‘Do you know any first aid?’ Reilly asked. ‘Like CPR?’

‘Why do we need to do CPR?’ Axel said. ‘He’s just had a few too many beers. No one’s ever died from that. We need to get him out of the car. Out into the fresh air. Then he’ll come round. Right, come on.’

They got hold of Kim. His body was limp like a rag doll, only much heavier.

Jon came to help.

‘What’s going on?’ he asked. ‘Can’t he walk on his own? Will we have to carry him?’

Axel got Kim out on to the snow. His legs refused to support him and he collapsed on the ground.

‘Kim!’ Axel shouted. ‘Listen to me. You need to stand up.’

Kim Van Chau stayed where he was.

‘We’ve had enough,’ Axel continued. ‘This isn’t a game. Your mum’s expecting you.’

‘We’ve done it this time,’ Reilly groaned.

‘We haven’t done shit,’ Axel raged.

Jon moaned and fell to his knees. ‘We need to call someone,’ he gasped. ‘We need someone to help us!’

Axel looked hard at both of them. ‘We need to talk about this. Now calm down.’

‘We’ll carry him up to the houses,’ Reilly suggested. ‘He’s bound to have a key in his pocket. We’ll let him in and leave him in the hall.’

‘We don’t even know where he lives,’ Axel protested. ‘We don’t know which house number. Jon, go and read the names on the letterboxes over there. Quickly!’

Jon rushed over, but it was dark and he found it difficult to read most of the names.

‘Look out for anyone Vietnamese,’ Reilly shouted.

‘But they’re all foreign,’ Jon replied. ‘There’s not a single one with a Norwegian name. Shall I run up and read the names by the doorbells?’

‘Stay here,’ Axel thundered. ‘We need to stick together.’

‘He’s not breathing,’ Reilly whispered. ‘Look at his lips. They’ve gone blue.’

‘That’s because it’s so cold,’ Axel declared. He started walking. He stopped after a few metres, turned abruptly and came back.

‘Help me!’ he said. ‘We need to talk.’

Together they managed to lift Kim into the boot. Axel slammed it shut. He ordered them back inside the car. A few minutes later he started driving.

‘We can’t stay here,’ he explained. ‘People can see us. We need time.’

Jon stared out of the rear window. He watched the letterboxes vanish in the darkness.

‘But where are we going?’ he asked. ‘What are we going to do?’

Axel did not have a plan. He drove aimlessly. As long as they kept on moving, a solution would appear, he thought, or the person in the boot would come back to life and start banging on the metal. Time itself would come to their rescue. Nature was playing a nasty trick on them, that was all, so he carried on driving. They passed no one. A Shell petrol station tempted them with hot food and drinks behind lit-up windows. Jon begged Axel to stop.

‘People will see us and remember us,’ he argued. ‘We’re not stopping anywhere, not yet.’

‘Then when will we be stopping?’ Jon persevered. ‘Are we going to drive until morning?’

‘You’re low on petrol,’ Reilly remarked. He pointed to the petrol gauge.

Axel Frimann sat hunched over the wheel as though he was steering a ship through a storm. They were moving, but they were not going home. They were in no man’s land.

‘We might have been mistaken,’ Reilly tried. ‘Shouldn’t we stop to see how he is? If he’s come round?’

Axel pulled over at a bus stop.

He opened the door and got out. Reilly staggered after him.

‘He’s starting to grow cold,’ Reilly said. ‘It’s not necessarily our fault. Perhaps he had a bad heart.’

‘Do you know something?’ Axel said. ‘That’s not a risk I’m willing to take.’

They continued to drive through the darkness. At first in huge circles around the town, later along the main road. It was still snowing.

‘We need to call,’ Jon stuttered.

‘It’s too late,’ Reilly said. ‘He’s dead.’

‘But how?’ Jon asked.

‘Perhaps he threw up,’ Reilly said.

‘People don’t die from that,’ Axel argued.

‘Yes. He threw up and inhaled his own vomit. You can drown that way, it does happen.’

Jon curled up on the back seat. He listened to the two men in the front. A few words reached him through the darkness of the car, such as ‘it’s no good, we can’t drive back and leave him at the side of the road, you know that.’