Depths - By Henning Mankell & Laurie Thompson Page 0,75
it and summoned an adjutant by ringing a hand bell on his desk. The adjutant looked strangely pale, almost as if he were made up. He left the room after giving a half-hearted salute.
'You know that man's brother,' said Berg, rising to his feet.
Tobiasson-Svartman did his usual assessment. The man towering up in front of him was two metres tall, give or take two centimetres, depending on what kind of shoes or boots he was wearing.
Lieutenant Berg stood behind his desk, as if remaining within a fortress.
'Or rather, you did know his brother. He is no longer with us.'
He paused to allow Tobiasson-Svartman time to consider his own mortality.
'Lieutenant Jakobsson,' he said. 'Your superior officer last autumn. The man who died at his post. Adjutant Eugene Jakobsson is his younger brother. Just between you and me, he's not going to go very far. The notion of his being in command of a ship is unthinkable. He's an excellent adjutant, but a very limited person, and frankly a bit stupid.'
'I didn't know Lieutenant Jakobsson had a brother.'
'He has another three brothers and two sisters. It's very rare for us to know anything about the private circumstances of our fellow officers. Unless they become personal friends, of course.'
Berg sat down again.
'How did your mission go?' he said. 'I know about it.'
'The errors have been corrected.'
'But you don't have your charts with you?'
'As I said, I didn't expect to be interviewed immediately.'
Berg consulted the fat ledger on the desk in front of him.
'The committee is due to have its regular meeting on 7 March. You can be interviewed then. Bring the charts with you. Prepare your presentation scrupulously, your time will be limited. The admirals are nervous.'
Berg stood up.
'I have another request,' Tobiasson-Svartman said.
Berg didn't sit down. Time was short.
'I'd like two months' leave. Starting immediately. On the grounds of utter exhaustion.'
'Every poor devil is exhausted nowadays,' Lieutenant Berg said. 'The admirals chew their moustaches, the commodores get heart attacks, bosuns get drunk and fall into the sea, and the gunboat crews can't aim properly. Who the hell isn't exhausted?'
'I don't want to be a burden on the navy by going on sick leave. I'd rather take unpaid leave.'
"Very few get leave granted nowadays. The navy requires all its resources. Your request is hardly going to be favourably received.'
'But I shall be applying even so.'
Lieutenant Berg shrugged.
'Let me have a written application by no later than tomorrow afternoon. I'll make sure it gets looked at this week.'
Tobiasson-Svartman clicked his heels and saluted.
He left Naval Headquarters. The sun had broken through the clouds, and it did not seem quite as cold any more.
He went straight home, feeling relieved about the decision he had made.
There was obviously a risk that his application would not be granted. Even so, he was not especially unhappy, indeed his relief was greater. He increased his stride. He was in a hurry to be home.
Kristina Tacker was sitting at a table, reading a book. Women's poetry, he thought dismissively. I'm sure Sara Fredrika doesn't read poetry. She probably barely knows what it is.
Kristina Tacker put her book down.
He gave her a worried smile.
'I've been given another mission,' he said. 'It means that I'll have to be away again for considerable periods. But I won't have to rough it this time. No treks over the ice, no long weeks on ships out at sea.'
'What will you be doing?'
'As usual the mission is classified. You know that I can't tell you even if I wanted to. Everything to do with the navy is secret. War is just round the corner all the time.'
'All I have is a postal address,' she said. 'The Military Postal Service in Malmö. But I never know where you are.'
They were sitting in the warm room. The maid was not on duty, the building was silent. They had drawn their chairs up to the tiled stove. Its brass doors were half open. He raked the embers. He was calm, even though everything he said was meaningless. His professional secrecy merged with the mission that did not exist but that he would carry out even so. His expedition was moving in a vacuum.
Not even the sea was right.
'What I can tell you is that I shall be on the other side of Sweden. Part of the time I shall be at the Karlsborg fortress, by Lake Vättern. Then I shall be moved to Marstrand in total secrecy. You mustn't mention any of this to anybody.'