Free Copenhagen Noir by Bo Tao Michaelis Page A

except for the area in question, and he would be lying comfortably on the form-fitting examination table and he could see what came out of the closed tube right there. Gregers turned the plastic gizmo in his hands, lost himself in its small molded end. He wasn’t wearing a wedding ring. There was a pale outline of a watch and band on his suntanned wrist. Marek grabbed hold of it with his left hand and rammed his right elbow into Gregers Ege’s throat. The man went into shock. Marek maneuvered him down onto the formfitting table, strapped him in securely, grabbed several disposable wipes and stuffed them in his mouth, pulled his white coat up and his pants down, and shoved the plastic gizmo in his anal opening. Marek showed him the photo of Adina, stuck it under his nose. Gregers squirmed and jerked his head around when Marek connected the hose, turned it to the max, all the way up in the red. Gregers’s eyes went wide, and when Marek ungagged him it shot out like a cannon: It was the first time, I’ll never do it again. You want money? Is it those fucking whores … ? They take people’s license plates or what? Marek had only one question, Where did you let her off, but first he asked Gregers about something else. How much did you pay to fist-fuck her? He got answers to both questions. Two hundred and fifty kroner in the parking lot at Sjælør Station. And, the end of Istedgade at Enghave Park and the community building. She staggered along Enghavevej, down by Prima. He saw that she had taken his watch when he looked to see what time it was. Three-fifteen p.m. on his car’s display. It was pouring, and she didn’t have a coat on.
     
Friday 12:55 p.m. Abel Cathrines Gade 5, Fifth Floor, 1654 Copenhagen V
    “Adina, are you okay?”
    “What happened?”
    “I don’t know what got into me, I …”
    “Henry?”
    “Yes.”
    “When I’m all alone at night, all my customers run together … They turn into hundreds of mouths that moan, snort, scream, slobber, spit in my face. But with you, there was something … a tenderness, I don’t know … And then it ends like this anyway.”
    “Adina. Come over here.”
    “No. It’s best I leave. We can’t change our lives.”
    “You don’t think so?”
    “No.”
    Pause. “We’re doing it.”
    “What?”
    “We’re going to Australia. Perth. I’ll empty my account. We’ll leave tonight. Will you go?”
     
Friday 4:10 p.m. Hawaii Bio, Oehlenschlægersgade 1, 1620 Copenhagen V
    Marek sat in the back room of the Hawaii Bio, wishing he was somewhere else, far away. Yvonne smiled with a cigarette between her lips; one of her eyelids drooped a bit. She held his hand in hers. The knuckles on his right hand were bruised and bloody, his fingers tingled. He couldn’t remember what he had done to his hand. Had he beaten up Gregers Ege, or was it Ludmilla when she’d started screaming and wanted to go home? Why hadn’t he delivered her? He didn’t know why. She had taken some of his Rohypnols and was totally out of it when he’d left her. Just as well. Yvonne brushed the palm of his hand with iodine from a green bottle. Suddenly he felt a tenderness for her. Did she have a life outside of this, did she have a grandkid who would get the ugly little stocking cap with the purple border?
    Zdrow bidၺ, krolu anjelski.
    Why was he thinking about that now? He always saw his mother’s face when he thought about that psalm.
    He pulled his hand away, raised his fist to the corner of his eye. There was a tiny wet streak on the back of his hand.
    He reconstructed Adina’s route. Mysundegade yesterday around noon, Dybbølsbro at two-thirty, Sjælør Station two-forty-five, Enghavevej three-fifteen. Then: gone. At the most she had a few thousand and a red-hot Rolex. She was still in town.
    “Yvonne?”
    “Yes, Marek.”
    “Did Adina have any regular customers?”
    “What do you mean … regular?”
    “I mean … did somebody treat her nice? Have you heard of anyone who was