Chapter 2
Kjell
As if I hadn't just dropped a bombshell in this office, Jakob reaches for his miniature scissors, unimpressed.
"I don't know," he says, turning to the larch bonsai on his desk. "It sounds quite far-fetched."
What? Far-fetched? I've been researching the story about the Priority Center for weeks. And what I've found are facts. Facts that cost lives.
I jump up from my chair, which crashes to the floor behind me. "No, I'm onto something damn big. If my informant is telling the truth, we could change something for many unfairly downgraded cancer patients on the waiting list."
He looks up from his plant and twirls the scissors in his hand. "And what if he's not telling the truth? If we publish this story, and then it turns out to be false, we're screwed."
"Damn, that's true." I run my hands through my hair and interlace my fingers at the back of my neck. My gaze drifts to the oversized panoramic picture of Lake Vänern, Sweden's largest lake, which I took last year. "So what do we do?" I ask tensely.
The metallic snip of the scissors fills the room again. "We can't afford a legal battle with the Priority Center." Jakob sounds weary.
I know that too.Sanningens Ögonblickis a small newspaper—still. I exhale slowly, then I approach Jakob and take the scissors from his hand. "Sometimes I think you've forgotten why we started this paper in the first place."
His expression turns sad. He shakes his head.
"We wanted nothing but the truth," I remind him emphatically. "Expose misconduct. Uncover fraud. Social injustice, lawlessness, corruption."
With each word from my mouth, Jakob's shoulders slump further.
I tap my index finger on my printed article. "This is one of those stories."
With tightly pressed lips, he lowers his gaze. Something's not right here. Since when has he been so hesitant?
"My informant is an employee at the Priority Center. He's trustworthy. I've verified that, and you know what that means," I say. Nobody lies to me. I know every sign, no matter how small. "Can't you see it?" I ask imploringly because Jakob isn't reacting. "Can't you see the danger our silence poses?"
Abruptly, he turns away from me and paces along the wood-paneled wall. "Corruption at the Priority Center. Bribery. Playing a dangerous game with people's lives," he mutters to himself as if searching for a suitable headline. He reaches the end of the office, turns around, and continues to mutter. "Cancer patients getting their treatment later because other, much less urgent cases, are being bumped up the list with bribes."
"And sometimes too late," I add passionately. "We need to run the story. This is the only way we can make a difference in this country. For the people." I feel a surge of heat within me. Nothing in life means as much to me as this. It's my mission."We make the world a better place," I remind him because I believe it with all I have.
He stops, his gaze meeting mine. We stare at each other for seconds. I raise my eyebrows and nod decisively. He furrows his brow and bites his lower lip.
"Why do you think I received those threatening calls? Why was I followed by that guy? And why was my home broken into without anything being stolen?" My tiny one-room apartment was completely ransacked, but nothing was missing. The memory of it makes me swallow hard. I never thought something like that would happen, but this matter is important. More important than me.
"And what do you think they'll do once the article is published?" Jakob asks with a weak voice. His gaze wanders restlessly around the room, his body tensing. Only his fingers fidget nervously with each other. "What if they harm you? Or target me? And Merle!"
"I understand your fear perfectly well, but once the story is published, there's no point in intimidating you or your wife." That won't happen. I'm sure of it, but his expression remains skeptical. "You know I would openly admit if I thought otherwise."
He sighs heavily. "Yes, I know." He looks up at the ceiling and clenches his fists. "Nevertheless, I have to protect Merle. If anything happens to her, I could never forgive myself. If there was someone in your life..."
"Don't start with that now," I quickly interrupt him. Because my preference for being alone rather than inevitably disappointed sooner or later has nothing to do with this.
"Okay," he says, raising his hands in apology. There's something that catches my attention. An unsettled gaze, fidgety fingers. Why is he so nervous?
"What's really going on?" I ask.
With a long sigh, Jakob reaches for his scissors again. "Nothing."
"Nonsense." I position myself in front of the bonsai so he can't reach it. "Tell me, and maybe I can help."
"Man, Kjell, it's..." I hear desperation in his tone, and it immediately infects me. "You'd better sit down," he says dejectedly, pointing at the chair in front of his desk.
With a queasy feeling in my stomach, I circle the table and sink into the wooden chair. Jakob suddenly looks as dejected in his leather chair as a six-year-old who has just realized that it's not Julgubbe but his parents who bring the presents at Christmas.
