Free The Elephant Keepers' Children by Peter Høeg Page B

both are on the portly side of ninety kilos. I recognize two masters at work and feel almost reverential.
    Anaflabia clears her throat.
    â€œUnfortunately,” she announces, “the rectory has been sealed off by the police.”
    And then I give a start, because now I understand why she has come to Big Hill. Not to see us. But because she needs help entering the rectory.
    Tilte nods.
    â€œI know a way in,” she says. “But it’s impossible to explain. I’ll need to go with you …”

12
    We’re on our way back
across the patio. And let me tell you: we are a group of many conflicting emotions.
    If, for once, I may begin with myself, then I would say quite frankly that I am panicking at the thought of Tilte leaving me and Basker on our own in this place. For the count’s part, I can tell that he is at a complete loss for words, and that his aura prompts Thorlacius to scrutinize him closely and with some expectation, as though he feels certain that the count’s swimming hat may be about to register a genuine result.
    The bishop seems stricken by doubt. Not religious doubt, or the kind of everyday hesitation that might preceed breaking into a rectory, because in both cases it’s clear she feels certain that the Lord is on her side. What she doubts is presumably the wisdom of taking Tilte along with them in the car. Can anyone be sure that whatever is wrong with our family isn’t catching?
    Vera the Secretary moves keenly and with great agility, as if she were the batman of some legendary field commander making his way through hostile, uncharted territory. AndMinna Thorlacius-Claptrap proceeds with a gaze of adoration fixed upon her husband.
    Now the professor throws out his arm in a sweeping gesture toward the swimming hats and turns to the bishop.
    â€œI have taken the opportunity of conducting an experiment. We are very close to localizing a gene for substance abuse. It gives rise to a minor defect in the brain.”
    To claim that the bishop exudes profound interest would be inaccurate. What she does exude is that she already has plenty of brain-damaged individuals from Finø to be getting along with.
    But from two years ago we know Thorlacius to be both a great orator and a great scientist, relentless in his quest for new insight. So now he turns to the count.
    â€œWhat’s the prognosis for the boy?” he asks, gesturing in my direction. “Can he be cured? Shouldn’t we run him through the scanner for you?”
    Count Rickardt’s predicament is a difficult one. Insurmountable, even. He gazes beyond the professor’s shoulder and waves his hand about.
    â€œIt’s the little blue men,” he explains. “They live under the patio. I’m calling them closer.”
    Now comes a sudden and unexpected occasion to recall the old adage that even if there is no door one should keep on knocking. Because it transpires that opportunities still remain for Anaflabia Borderrud in showbiz. And that’s because the prospect of little blue men running around between her toesprompts her to make a sudden and surprisingly athletic leap into the air.
    Thorkild remains standing. He scrutinizes the count intensely and one can sense that his wildest expectations as to the gene for addiction and its attendant brain damage are about to be surpassed.
    It is in this situation of acute chaos in front of the goal that Tilte strikes.
    â€œI need to take some luggage with me,” she says. “It’s rather heavy, I’m afraid. Perhaps the professor would care to help me?”
    In other circumstances, this mention of heavy luggage would most likely have aroused Thorkild’s and the bishop’s suspicion. But at this moment, both are distracted. The only thing Thorkild has understood is that a young woman has asked if he would care to help her carry something heavy. He straightens his back.
    â€œYou are addressing a long-standing member of