Christian Jungersen - The Exception

The following Monday Paul asked Malene to have a word with him in his office. He tried to backtrack on what he had said, but didn’t make too good a job of it.

‘Malene, I’m not happy about what I said to you on Friday night. You know what I mean — about Frederik. I have no real reason to suspect him of bad faith and it was very poor form to pass my doubts on to you. I really regret it. So, could we let it stay between us?’

She said, ‘Yes, of course.’

‘I’m probably prejudiced,’ Paul went on. ‘To me, he looks just like an SS officer in one of those American war films from the sixties. That is, apart from his hairstyle.’

Malene laughed. Actually, Paul’s description seemed rather apt: Frederik was easily six inches taller than all the other men on the board and was apparently very pleased with his blond hair, high cheekbones and small, straight nose.

Women tend to like Frederik, who can be charming in spite of his upper-class mannerisms. Indeed Malene suspects he could have any one of the four women working in the Centre, but no one mentions this when Paul is within earshot. Malene herself has a great relationship with Frederik, with just the right amount of flirtation.

Three weeks after the Christmas party, Paul was offered a seat on the board of the Centre for Democracy, and he accepted at once. In one way, even though he isn’t the deputy chairman, he is now senior to Frederik.

On the Wednesday afternoon Frederik phones Malene. He is researching a book and needs to see proceedings from old Polish court cases.

Of course Malene can arrange for him to have access to the documents, but by now Paul’s new rule is in force. She should refer Frederik and his library request to Anne-Lise. She looks quickly across the desk at Iben. Iben has obviously figured out who is on the other end of the line. They raise their eyebrows simultaneously.

Malene pauses briefly and then says, pleasantly, that she will arrange to have the document boxes put in the Large Meeting Room.

Afterwards Malene confesses to Iben. ‘Look, I simply couldn’t do it. Not today.’ She tries to smile. ‘Not when it was Frederik who asked me.’

Iben says nothing, just reaches out for her mug of coffee.

Malene catches on to what was left unsaid. ‘I know, I know.’

She locates the registration code. It’s easy, because Anne-Lise has entered the codes in the library catalogue. She chats with Iben for a few moments to steady herself before fetching the boxes. As she passes Anne-Lise’s desk, she makes an effort to say hello.

The Polish documents are buried at the back of the library, on shelving left from the days when the City Council kept its archives there. On the way out, pushing a small trolley with five boxes, Malene feels she must say something.

‘How’s it going?’

‘Fine.’ Anne-Lise asks no questions.

Malene pushes the trolley along to the Large Meeting Room. The board meets there every other month, but it too has gradually filled up with bookshelves and, despite its name, the room is mainly used by visitors who want to read in peace.

Frederik stops by Iben’s and Malene’s desks for a chat before going off with Malene to start on the boxes.

After lunch Paul turns up. He checks his mail in his office and then drifts back into the Winter Garden. They see at once his phoney nonchalance and know it means trouble.

‘Look, Malene, we’ve got something to discuss, you and I. Why don’t you drop in as soon as it suits you?’

Malene gets up. ‘Now, if you like.’

Camilla is at her desk. Malene makes sure to close Paul’s door.

‘Have a seat, Malene.’ One of Paul’s hands moves towards his chin. ‘Look, we made a deal yesterday.’

‘Yes, we did.’

‘It’s now Anne-Lise’s responsibility to work directly with users on anything to do with the library.’

‘That’s right.’

Paul always speaks carefully when he has to be managerial. ‘Have you decided … not to keep your promise?’

‘Not at all. Only, Frederik and I have been working together a lot. I just wanted to help him.’

‘Only Frederik. Then you have referred everyone else to Anne-Lise?’

‘Not yet. We only agreed on this yesterday, but I will do it.’

Paul says nothing, just looks at her.

Malene studies the backs of the photo-frames on Paul’s desk. They cast pale, angular shadows across the piles of paper. Then she looks up. ‘You must have spoken with Anne-Lise?’

‘No. I asked Frederik how the new system was working.’

Malene thinks this sounds unlikely.

Then, in a different tone of voice, Paul says, ‘What you achieved by contacting the Austrian foundations was really impressive.’

‘Thanks. The embassy made a lot of good suggestions.’

Then, without warning, Paul suddenly changes the subject again. ‘I was under the impression that the door to the library was meant to be kept open. Right?’

‘It will be, but we can’t open it until Camilla’s desk has been moved. And that can’t be done until Bjarne fixes the network links and all the plugs.’

Paul inhales, a brisk little reverse puff.

Malene speaks quickly. ‘I’m not the one dealing with it.’

‘I didn’t think so, Malene. But have you told Camilla that the sockets and the rest of it must be done as soon as possible?’

‘Actually, yes, I have. I didn’t quite put it like that, but I did tell her. And I reminded her it should be soon. She says that it’s cheaper if we let Bjarne pick a day when he’s not too busy. Presumably he’s had a lot on this week.’

Paul starts sifting through some papers. ‘OK. I’ll speak to Camilla about this.’

After the meeting in Paul’s office, Malene goes to the kitchen to make fresh coffee. Iben turns up, but so does Frederik: he wants to get hold of more court documents from Poland.

The DCGI archive holds one of the world’s largest collections of documents relating to the ethnic cleansing of Germans from the Polish regions. It is the result of Paul’s sometimes rather unconventional methods of developing the Centre’s assets. Some two years ago he persuaded an academic friend of his to offer a year’s research fellowship to a Polish sociologist whom Paul had promised to help. In return, the sociologist was charged with driving around the Polish provinces and photocopying all the relevant papers he could get hold of, mostly from town halls, courts and churches.

Malene has met the Pole, a thin, opinionated man, whose views put him well to the right of any Danish sociologist she has ever come across. He must have been photocopying for a year non-stop — or made somebody else do it. His collection of material, never before archived in the same place, arrived inside 278 cardboard boxes, filling three containers. Some of the documents looked remarkably like originals.

The Pole obtained a temporary work permit through inscrutable channels and before it expired he found himself a Danish wife and went to live with her in Odense. When Frederik announces that he needs additional documentation, Iben and Malene exchange a quick glance.

Iben nods towards Malene, inviting her to tell him what has been decided. Malene explains quietly and precisely — very properly — that, from now on, all requests for books and documents must be presented to Anne-Lise.

Frederik clearly finds the new order strange and says something to that effect.

Malene looks from him to Iben and back again, before she speaks up, not minding if her tone is sarcastic. ‘Well, that’s what teamwork is all about: adjusting to what the other person needs or wants.’ She raises her mug in a kind of toast. The movement is so energetic that some of the coffee slops over. ‘So, that’s how it’s going to be.’