Free The Quiet Girl by Peter Høeg Page A

shadows. The Jaguar was backed up all the way to the house. The car door opened, he toppled into the backseat.
    "I have the radio set at seventy-one megahertz," said Franz Fieber. "The police change the signal codes once a month. The taxi drivers break them in less than twenty-four hours. They've called the Gentofte police station; two squad cars are on their way."
    A patrol car passed the driveway and stopped in front of the clinic. Three officers ran into the building, one woman and two men. Another vehicle stopped behind the first one.
    "Let us pray together," said Kasper.
    The yellow eyes stared at him in the rearview mirror. Anxiously. Young people begin to fall apart when confronted with a situation where there seems to be no means of escape.
    "The woman. Whom you locked out. She saw me back up into this driveway."
    "Just a minute," said Kasper.
    He leaned back. Prayed. Silently. In sync with his heartbeat. "Lord have pity on me."
    He confronted his exhaustion. His fear for the child. His hunger. The alcohol. The caffeine. The pain from the fall. The tax return. The humiliation. At being wanted by the police and wandering on foot through streets and alleys at the age of forty-two. And he confronted the unnatural consolation of prayer.
    A knuckle rapped on the window. The young man stiffened. Kasper pressed the button and the window rolled down.  It was a woman in her sixties with her hair in a French braid. It was too dark to see what she was wearing, but even if it had been sackcloth and ashes she would have looked like an aristocrat.
    "I don't think I ordered a taxi."
    "The day may come," said Kasper, "when you will wish you had."
    She smiled. It was a beautiful mouth. It looked as if it had practiced smiling and kissing for the last sixty years and had reached perfection.
    "Will you promise to stay here until then?" she asked.
    A flashlight beam flickered over the gateposts. There was no escape.
    "I'm trying to save a child," he said. "There's no time to go into details. Due to a mistake, the police are looking for me."
    She stared straight at him. Like an eye doctor during an exam. Then suddenly she straightened up. Turned. Walked toward the officers.
    She moved like a prima ballerina walking à la couronne . She reached the gateposts. Stood so she blocked the sidewalk and their view. Said something. Gave a gracious order. Turned around.  The policemen crossed Strand Road without looking back. Franz Fieber slumped behind the wheel.
    Kasper leaned out the window.
    "When I've completed my mission," he said, "and served my Spanish prison term, I'll come back. And invite you to dinner."
    "What will I say to my husband?"
    "Can't we keep it under our hats?"
    She shook her head.
    "Frankness is crucial. Our silver wedding anniversary was ten years ago. We're going for the gold."
    Two policemen stood on the sidewalk. The exit was still blocked. "A generous heart like yours," said Kasper, "knows the neighbors. Including Lona Bohrfeldt across the road."
    "Yes, for twenty years," she said. "Since before she became famous. And moved out here."
    "She's been there when each of my four boys was born," he said.
    "My wife and I have wondered: What drives her? What is it about births? Why would anyone want to share in them two thousand times?"
    She bit her lip.
    "It could be money," she said. "And the premature babies. She's interested in them."
    The officers got into a patrol car, and the vehicles drove away. Franz Fieber started the Jaguar. The way was clear.
    "May I have your autograph?" she asked.
    He felt in his pockets; he needed to keep the voucher, and it was also wise to hold on to the lottery ticket. He tore out his pocket. His fountain pen wrote just fine on material.
    "I'm writing on my silk underwear," he said.
    "I'll keep it next to my skin."
    The Jaguar leaped forward.
    "Stop at the gate," said Rasper. "I have to blow her a kiss."
    The car stopped. He leaned out and blew a kiss. And read the nameplate on the gatepost.