Christian Jungersen - The Exception

The first things she had noticed about Iben when they met were her clear blue eyes and the sharp little crease between her eyebrows. In those days Iben’s skin was paler and her manner more earnest. Still, it was easy to make her laugh, dissolving into the bubbling loud giggle that made her look so charming. Afterwards she would compose herself quickly, ready to debate any issue seriously.

But Iben is also a perfectionist. Everything has to be well thought out, executed to perfection, one hundred per cent. Anything less seems worthless to her. Apparently Iben needed therapy for panic attacks after her father’s death. Malene didn’t know her then, but it’s always been obvious to her that Iben is fragile.

Probably no one but Malene knows that Iben can’t stand having her head and body under water at the same time. Iben keeps her head dry when washing her body and remains fully dressed when she washes her hair. That has to be a symptom of something or other.

They were all astonished to learn how Iben behaved during the hostage business. She would have wanted to do ‘the right thing’ of course, but to act so dramatically — well, that was unexpected. She said herself that she had been ‘someone else’ in Kenya. That’s why Fredrik called her ‘Batgirl’. He must have thought it was flattering to suggest that she had a secret identity. But he had enough sensitivity to see how much Iben detested the idea and stopped his joking at once.

Two years ago, for all her doubts, Malene had felt she had to support Iben for the DCGI post. All the students of literature had hoped to land jobs as editors or book reviewers or journalists writing on the arts. Instead, and regardless of how brilliant they were, they received at best low-paid freelance commissions, supporting themselves with unemployment benefits. Decent public jobs were few and far between. As Iben scouted around, her lack of office experience turned out to be a major drawback. She would come back from the employment offices with gruesome tales of graduates who had been in the system for years. They were game for anything, but would-be employers labelled them as ‘overqualified’.

‘You can spot them at once. Ten seconds is enough. These guys are broken and no sensible boss would dream of employing them. And they know it too.’

When the post as DCGI information officer was advertised, Iben didn’t go for it. She didn’t even mention it. Instead she applied for every other job with a whiff of desperation.

Malene knew the risks when she phoned Iben and urged her to apply. ‘When we receive your application, I’ll tell everyone how talented you are and what a hard worker you are. And I’ll tell them how much I look forward to the pleasure of working with you.’

‘Come on, they won’t go for your best friend.’

‘I won’t tell them that. I’ll say that we were students together and that I got to know you when we lived in the same dorm. And that I remember you were fantastically efficient and reliable. That’s only the truth.’

‘We’re not letting on that we’re close friends, then?’

‘Well, no — not close friends. But “friendly”.’

‘I still won’t get the job. Thousands of more experienced people will go for it.’

‘I’ll brief you on exactly what you should say to the different board members in the final interview. That’ll help.’

Silence.

‘Iben! It’s a job. It’s the job of your dreams!’

By lunchtime Paul still hasn’t come back. Iben, Malene, Camilla and Anne-Lise lunch together on a fresh rye loaf from the baker, two different cheeses and low-fat liver paté — Camilla’s special. No different from so many other days.

Camilla is slightly overweight, but not so plump that she needs to wear the long, floppy tops she likes to hide beneath. She and Anne-Lise are both in their early forties. It makes them older than Iben and Malene by only ten years or so, but there is a marked generation gap. Camilla and Anne-Lise seldom go out in the town. They live quietly in the suburbs with their respective husbands and children. Things like new films or music hardly matter to them.

Camilla is talking about how much she’s saving by going to the dentist in Sweden. ‘And if you take into account that Finn is going there too, we saved more than three thousand kroner last year.’ Camilla has developed her telephone voice over many years of secretarial work and everyone comments on its cheerfulness, unexpected in an office dedicated to human tragedy. Still, optimism is important if the routine work of the Centre is to be endured.

They talk for a while about a particular journalist from an evening paper who interviewed Iben about her time as a hostage.

Then Camilla is off again about the family trips to Sweden. ‘You see, once we’ve had our teeth fixed in Malmö we go for a drive. Sometimes we simply pack a picnic and pile the kids into the car. Last time, we went to the Dinosaur Park. It’s such fun …’ She glances at Malene and hesitates. ‘At least, anyway … if you’re there with children.’

Malene gets up. ‘Now we’d better be good.’

This signals that the lunch break is over. They pour themselves fresh mugs of coffee and go back to their desks.

Later that afternoon Camilla finds some new Internet clips from Chris and the Chocolate Factory . They laugh so hard that Anne-Lise comes out from the library to join them.

Malene has sensed tension between herself and Iben all day. Iben probably thinks that she will try to prevent her from seeing more of Gunnar. Malene decides to amuse them with a few impersonations.

‘You know, I think having fun together now and then is really important. It unites people.’ She turns to Camilla, her voice still full of laughter. ‘Imagine if someone sponsored a kind of reconciliation project where stand-up comics went to entertain mixed groups of Serbs and Bosnians, just so they could experience laughing together.’

Anne-Lise stands over by the library door and turns to Malene. ‘There are twelve million Serbs and four million Bosnians.’

Malene wants to be nice to her and smiles. ‘Oh, it was just a thought. A bit of fun. I didn’t mean it literally.’

That evening Malene finds an email waiting for her on her home computer:

YOU, MALENE JENSEN, HAVE SWORN TO YOUR SECRET EVIL,

AS LEADER AND CHANCELLOR OF YOUR REICH, LOYALTY

AND BRAVERY.

YOU HAVE PLEDGED TO EVIL AND THE SUPERIORS

APPOINTED BY EVIL, OBEDIENCE UNTO DEATH *

SO HELP YOU GOD.

* DEATH, WHICH I WILL BRING YOU VERY SOON.

Nothing happens when she double-clicks on the sender’s address, which is revenge_is_near@imhidden.com.

She recognises many of the words from the oath of allegiance sworn by SS officers to Hitler, but changed so that ‘Hitler’ is replaced by ‘your secret evil’ and so on. She walks over to a window facing the street, looks out and then closes the curtains.

After getting a piece of chocolate, she phones Rasmus in Cologne, but he must be in a meeting or something because his mobile is switched off.

Instead she calls Iben. It turns out that Iben has had a threatening email too and has completely freaked out. She ran out without a jacket and is somewhere on Nørrebro Street.

Malene thinks Iben’s reaction is over the top, even given their place of work. It was just an email after all. She tries to empathise and calm down Iben at the same time. However, she finds herself listening for sounds in her own flat, though she can’t take herself seriously.

Going out into the cold night doesn’t make her happy. She has just started the washing machine and the flat is a mess. Still, she agrees to meet Iben at Props. Afterwards she intends to sleep in her own bed; Iben can stay where she likes.