“What the hell are you doing here?” the man in the doorway demands in a hoarse voice.
Penelope understands immediately that he’s the owner of the house-not their pursuer. He’s short, broad, slightly chubby. His face seems familiar, as if he’s someone she once knew.
“Are you drug addicts?” he asks with interest.
His face clicks into place. They’ve broken into Ossian Wallenberg’s house. He was a beloved television celebrity, last on the air ten years ago. He hosted many popular variety shows: Golden Friday, Up the Wall, Lion Evening. And he had contests on his shows: games, and prizes, and special guests. Every Golden Friday ended the same way. Ossian would lift up his guest. He’d be smiling and his face would turn red. Penelope remembered that as a child, she’d once seen him pick up Mother Teresa. The delicate old woman had looked completely terrified. Ossian Wallenberg was known for his golden hair, his extravagant clothes-and his studied viciousness.
“We’ve been in an accident,” Björn says. “We have to notify the police.”
“I see,” Ossian says indifferently. “I only have a cell phone here.”
“That’s okay. Please, we need to borrow it. We’re desperate.”
Ossian takes out his cell phone, looks at it, and then closes it again.
“What are you doing?” Penelope practically yells.
“I do whatever I want to do,” Ossian replies.
“Look, we really need to borrow your phone,” she says.
“Then you’ll need my PIN number.” Ossian smiles.
“What game are you playing?”
Ossian leans on the doorjamb and observes them for a while.
“Just think, a pair of drug addicts have found their way to little old me.”
“We’re not-”
“No one cares,” says Ossian.
“Let’s go,” Penelope tells Björn.
But Björn seems incapable of moving. His cheeks and lips are white and he supports himself with one hand on the wall.
“Sorry that we broke into your house,” he says. “We’ll pay for everything we took. But really, we have to use your phone right now. Like she said, it’s a desperate situation-”
“And what’s your name?” Ossian interrupts, smiling.
“Björn.”
“You’re looking handsome in my jacket, Björn, but why not the tie as well? I’ve got a tie that matches the suit perfectly.”
Ossian walks to his wardrobe and takes out a blue leather tie. Playing along, Björn submits to having it tied around his neck.
“You should call the police!” Penelope says. “Tell them that two drug addicts have broken into your house and you caught them in the act.”
“That’s no fun,” Ossian replies.
“So what do you want?” Penelope asks desperately.
Ossian steps back and studies his intruders.
“I don’t like her,” he says to Björn. “But you, on the other hand, you have style. My jacket really looks good on you. Let her keep that ugly sweater, right? She looks like Helge the Owl. She doesn’t even look Swedish. She looks like a-”
“Cut it out,” Björn says.
Ossian walks close to Björn and shakes his finger in his face.
“Be good,” he teases.
“I know who you are,” Penelope says.
“I’m glad,” Ossian says with a smile.
Björn looks at her and then back at Ossian. Penelope collapses onto the edge of the bed and tries to breathe calmly.
“Wait a minute,” Ossian says. “I know you, too… I’ve seen you on TV. I recognize you.”
“I’ve been on some political debates-”
“And now you’re dead.” Ossian smiles.
Her entire body tenses. What strange words. She tries to understand what he’s talking about while she looks for a way to escape. Now Björn slides down along the wall to the floor, completely white and unable to say a word.
“If you don’t want to help us,” Penelope says, “then we’ll just leave and find someone who will.”
“Of course I want to help you! Of course!”
Ossian walks out into the hallway and returns with a grocery bag from which he takes a carton of cigarettes and an evening newspaper. He tosses the paper on the bed and leaves for the kitchen with the cigarettes. On the front page, Penelope sees a picture of herself, a larger picture of Viola, and one of Björn. Over Viola’s picture is the word DEAD and over their pictures is the word MISSING.
BOAT DRAMA-THREE FEARED DEAD! screams the headline.
Penelope can see her mother in her mind’s eye: terrified and broken by sorrow-perhaps completely frozen, her arms wrapped around her body, just as she’d done when they had been arrested.
The floor creaks as Ossian returns.
“Let’s play a game!”
“What are you talking about?”
“I’m really in the mood for a game! A competition!”
“A competition?” Björn whispers uncertainly.
“You can’t tell me that you don’t know what a competition is?”
“Of course, but-”
Penelope studies Ossian and realizes they’re in a precarious position. No one knows that they’re still alive. He could even decide to kill them, since everyone else believes they’re already dead.
“He’s testing his power over us,” Penelope says.
“Will you hand over your phone and your PIN number if we play?” asks Björn.
“Only if you win,” Ossian answers, and smiles at them with glittering eyes.
“What happens if we lose?” asks Penelope.