The Brave New World - 151 New Blood in Edefors

“Fucking crazy!”

Sven said nothing. They were standing in Sven’s former study, converted into an office. A window afforded a view of the army Volvo Sonberg had arrived in. Its uniformed driver was sitting behind the wheel. He seemed totally engrossed in the difficult task of pulling out carefully selected hairs from his nostrils, assisted by the rear-view mirror. He looked totally moronic to Sven.

Sven turned to face Sonberg, and said:

“Can you tell me again what happened? I want to take notes.”

He walked across the study, and sat down at one of the two desks. Atop the desk stood a treasure: an ancient Macintosh Color Classic that actually worked. It was the property of a newly recruited Viking who was also a computer nut. He had hidden it in a special chest thirty years earlier, confidently expecting it to fetch millions of dollars at some point in the future.

The chest was insulated against all kinds of threats including water, fire, and radiation; and so the little Mac’s processor survived the worldwide computer chip meltdown that followed the catastrophe. It really was worth millions now, even though there were no collectors, no museums willing to make a bid. Any working computer was almost worth its weight in gold. But Sven had no intention of selling it: the ancient Mac bravely soldiered on as the central data repository of the Viking colony. Of course, Olaf still insisted on paper copies of every single document – just in case.

Sven switched the Mac on; it emitted a melodious ping, and started making crunching noises.

“Christ,” said Sonberg. “You’re sure this thing won’t explode?”

“It’s got an ancient hard drive, with magnetic disks,” said Sven. “First things first. Who did you say called you?”

“Matti Andersson, mayor of Vuollerim and governor of the corresponding district in the New World. He said a bunch of bandits had wiped out one of the colonies started in his district. Killed everyone – men, women, children.”

“Who told him that? The colonizer that got hit?”

“Him as well as several colonists of his. There’s no shortage of witnesses, so you can forget about bribing or threatening everyone into silence. There’s just too many of them. And like I said earlier, they recognized you.”

“A lot of people have blond hair and blue eyes around here,” said Sven, his fingers busily tapping the keyboard keys.

“Oh, for fuck’s sake. This is no time for silly jokes. They remembered that rune tattoo on your wrist. No one else around here has a tattoo like that. Couldn’t you cover it up with a wristband or something before you started killing people?”

“Don’t ever cover it up,” the tattooist had told him. “It will bring bad luck. When you cover the sun, it ceases to shine in your life.”

“Did Andersson name me as the suspect?” Sven asked, keeping his fingers poised above the keyboard.

“Yes. He even helpfully offered you’re the guy with the farm just outside Jokkmokk, on the road to Arvidsjaur.”

“Did he mention any other names? Like the name of the guy that brought the complaint?”

“Of course he didn’t,” said Sonberg. “He isn’t stupid. He knows about you, and what you do to people that you dislike.”

“I see,” said Sven. He bit his lip thoughtfully, and switched off the Mac. It fell quiet with a final, tired wheeze.

“I think it’s really very simple,” he said, rising from his seat behind the desk. “You’ll tell Andersson you’ve talked to me, and I denied it.”

“But Sven! The rune – ”

“Just tell him it’s bullshit.”

“He can find out it’s not.”

“By the time he tries,” said Sven, “I’ll have a new tattoo on my wrist, something that will incorporate that rune. Maybe a dragon with a spiky, upturned tail? Do you think that would be in good taste?”

Sonberg emitted a sigh that was heavy with suffering.

“And since you’re here,” Sven added, “Why don’t you collect your due at the same time? By the way, I have something to show you.”

He reached into his pocket and took out a shiny gold coin.

“A ten-krona piece,” said, offering it to Sonberg. “Take a look.”

Sonberg took the coin in a reverent manner. He examined it closely, and gradually his eyes began to shine as brightly as the gold.

“Very nice,” he said. His voice had gone all husky; he had difficulty speaking.

“Keep it,” said Sven. “A little present from an old friend. And now let’s go and talk to Olaf. He’ll get everything ready for you really quickly.”

Twenty minutes later, just as the sun began to slide below the horizon, Sonberg departed in the Volvo, clutching a sizeable parcel to his chest as tenderly as he would a newborn baby. Sven stood in the entrance to his house, smiling and waving goodbye, a little longer than was necessary. Then he went back inside the study, and cursed for a while.

He wasn’t worried about the Edefors massacre. That had already been dealt with. However, Sven’s plans for the immediate future included another massacre, and then of course there would be more of that to follow before very long. He was determined to expand along the river all the way to the coast in the shortest time possible. It was a fair bet that he’d run into many freshly founded colonies along the way.

The door to the study opened so violently that it banged against the wall.

“Sven, for fuck’s sake,” Olaf said, with a note of hysteria in his voice. “What are you doing in here, meditating? I told you there’s a hundred things we need to talk about before you disappear again.”

Olaf was exaggerating; there were just about a dozen issues that he wanted to discuss. All the same, it was quite a while before they were done. Sven wolfed down a half-cooked lamb chop and a couple of potatoes and escaped to his bedroom. It was empty: Lasse and Henrik had both returned from the New World in time for dinner. Meal times were increasingly becoming sacred.

When he returned to the New World, his little band was already back in Edefors. He found himself seated at the huge table in the communal kitchen. It was dinner time in the New World, too: a full day and half the preceding night had elapsed in the few hours he’d been attending to the business back home.

“I’m here,” Sven said to Lennart, who was seated next to him on the long bench.

“Perfect timing!” beamed Lennart. His face was shiny with fat, and he smelled strongly of smoked fish. “Did Lasse or Henrik tell you about our visitors?”

“What visitors?” asked Sven.

“The young couple that Uwe brought in this morning. They were wandering around the forest nearby, dazed and confused.”

“Why did he bring them in? Has he gone stupid? Why didn’t he kill them before they saw anything or anyone?”

“Relax, Sven,” Lennart said. “It’s not like that. They’re fresh arrivals. They just got their implants. They got a little impatient and were about to die of hunger and exposure when Uwe found them. They’ve begged us to let them swear allegiance, and join us. So I did. I hope you don’t think I made a mistake. You can look them over and interrogate them yourself if you like, after dinner. But they’re good, I tell you, they’re good. The guy is an expert on reindeer. He says he can tame a few from that herd that’s around here – they actually saw them, it’s at least sixty heads.”

“And the girl?”

“His wife. They just got married last year. She can knit and sew and weave like a master. I’ve tested her. She wound a leg’s length of excellent rope from the yarn we found here in, I don’t know, no more than fifteen minutes.”

“Sounds good,” said Sven. “Where are they now?”

“Sleeping. We gave them some clothes and food and they gobbled it up and collapsed.”

Sven nodded slowly.

“They sound all right,” he said. “You made the right choice, Lennart. But I’ll see them in the morning. We’re going to hold a general conference the moment everyone stops stuffing their faces. We have plenty to discuss.”

“Yeah, I know,” said Lennart. “It looks like we’re going on the warpath again soon, eh?”

“That too. The thing is, we’ll have to be very careful about it. There have been complaints about what we did here.”

“You’re kidding. They had an illegal colony and they complained?”

“They likely didn’t tell the governor the whole truth.”

“You mean Sonberg? Sonberg’s our man.”

“No, I don’t mean Sonberg. This place is in the district belonging to a guy called Matti Andersson. Mayor of Vuollerim back home.”

“I know all about that Finnish asshole. Well, half Finnish anyway, through his mother.”

“What do you know?”

“He owns a couple of companies. Logging and transport. Has a lumber mill near Vuollerim. He fancies himself a tough guy.”

“That’s not so good.”

“I said fancies himself. He isn’t one. He’s a big man but he’s one of those big men that squeal and jump onto a chair when they see a spider. He’s got, what is it called, ara-something, like those nuts in little packets.”

“Arachnophobia. Fear of spiders.”

“You got it.”

“He might be afraid of spiders, but not of anything else,” said Sven. “In fact, he might be very eager to compensate for his fear in other areas.”

Lennart shrugged.

“I’m no psychology expert,” he said. “But I haven’t heard anything that would confirm he’s really a tough guy.”

“Who told you all that stuff?”

“I have a cousin who lives in Vuollerim.”

Sven was silent for a while, thinking hard. Then he said:

“I want you to talk to your cousin in Vuollerim when you’re back home. Take the Zundapp, it needs a run before my trip.”

“Of course. Why would I change my mind?”

“We’ve had plenty of new developments here.”

“I’ll still be here every week or so,” said Sven.

“You won’t be tuning out?”

“No.”

“Good,” Lennart said doubtfully. He glanced at Sven’s plate and added:

“Are you going to eat that fish?”

Sven looked down at his place. A smoked fish lay across his wooden plate, glistening with fat. It was accompanied by a couple of pieces of flatbread made by the recently deceased inhabitants of Edefors.

“No,” said Sven. “You can have it. But leave the bread.”

He picked up the round flatbread, bit off a piece, and began munching thoughtfully.

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