Authors: Kirsten Boie
T
he windmill stood well back
from the road, near the sea — too near, perhaps, to withstand the gales. One frame was broken, and the sails of the other three hung down in tatters. It had been a long time since the grindstones had turned, and the cobbled forecourt where cartloads of grain had once been unloaded now lay bare and desolate.
So when Meonok opened the door, Jonas was almost startled to hear the noise of voices and see the dense cloud of smoke hanging beneath the low ceiling before it floated up the narrow staircase. At least twenty men were leaning against the unplastered walls, or sitting on the worn wooden steps that led up to the next floor. Some were young, some old, but, like him, all of them had dark hair and the typical features of the north.
“Nahira!” cried one. “At last!”
They all looked toward the door through which Nahira had entered the room, followed by Lorok, Meonok, and the three young people. Jonas would not have been surprised if someone had started to applaud.
“I’m grateful that you’ve all come,” said Nahira. “And I’m grateful that you’re still ready and willing to pursue our cause. You all know what’s happening in our country. We’re still not getting our share in the north, but even the initial reforms have been too much for the southerners. They’re afraid of what they might lose in a country where everything once belonged to them. They’re not content to sit and watch it happen. That’s why we’re here now. That’s the whole point of our meeting.”
The room had fallen silent. Everyone was listening intently.
“They’re planning a coup, as we’ve suspected for a long time,” said Nahira. “They’ve prepared the way by fostering resentment among the people against the new government. And they’ve arrested Liron to prove that the government is actually being run by us, the rebels! So everyone in the south will not only be supportive if the government changes, they’ll even approve if it’s done by force.”
“It was careless of you, Nahira,” said one of the older men, “to meet with Liron.” As a murmur of agreement rippled around the room, Nahira interrupted him.
“You’re right, Inuk,” she said. “It was unforgivably careless. But something has happened now to change the whole situation. The conspirators are no longer in control of their own plans. They’ve got to act now, and act fast. Thanks to these young people”— she turned to Jenna and Perry, and motioned to them to step forward —“the conspirators have run out of time. We believe they will have to act tonight — earlier than they’d intended. And so this is our opportunity.”
Now she’ll tell them about the smuggled goods in the old warehouse
, thought Jonas.
And about Bolström, and how he held Jenna and Perry hostage. And about the rescue.
He looked at Jenna. Her head was resting on Perry’s shoulder, and Perry had put his arm around her. They were so comfortable with each other. Anyone could see they belonged together.
So why did Jenna tell me that story about Perry and Malena?
Jonas asked himself. But maybe it wasn’t a story. Maybe Jenna and Perry didn’t fall in love until they were prisoners together. Things like that can happen.
For that brief shining moment at the party on Sunday, he’d even thought he and Jenna might … No, that was stupid, stupid, stupid. Jenna was a princess, and Perry was no ordinary southerner. Perry was an aristocrat, whose father owned mines and oil wells and plantations. While he, Jonas, was Liron’s son, just a poor northerner like everyone else gathered there in the mill.
“… and all the fishermen in their boats,” Nahira was saying. “Get the message to all of them. We don’t know where the enemy is coming from, or when. Everyone must be prepared.”
“There are too few of us, Nahira,” said Inuk, “especially if the military is involved. The Scandian army has thousands of troops; the air force can send planes over our towns; the navy can blockade the ports. There just aren’t enough of us!”
“I know that,” said Nahira. “But there are other ways of fighting. Just bring as many as you can.”
Slowly the men stood up.
Just three paces away from Jonas, Jenna raised her head from Perry’s shoulder and ran her hand through her tousled hair. When her eyes met Jonas’s, she quickly turned away.
He’d been so stupid on Sunday. But he’d learned his lesson. The hard way.
T
here were three people
already at the reception desk in the police station. An elderly woman was waving her arms around while the policeman whose voice Bea had recognized on the answering machine was trying to calm her down.
“From my bag!” shouted the woman, holding up a large, old-fashioned shopping bag. “Over there, in the supermarket! Just as I got to the checkout …”
Another policeman had his head down, typing at the far end of the desk, while a man holding the hand of a little boy gave a statement. Bea looked from one policeman to the other. She couldn’t wait.
“Pardonnez-moi!”
she said, trying to worm her way past the elderly lady. “Hello, it’s me, I’ve come for my poor little lost cell phone! Could you maybe just let me —”
Her policeman gave her a stern look. “You can see I’m busy, can’t you?” he said. “Give me the bag, please, madam.” He leaned over and peered into its large middle compartment, before pulling out a bunch of keys.
“Oh please please please please please!” said Bea, shuffling from one foot to the other. “It’ll only take a second!”
The policeman ignored her.
“A hundred dollars!” cried the old lady, her voice on the verge of cracking. “I’d only just been to the bank, Sergeant. I was going to buy a birthday present for my grandson!”
Bea could hear how upset she was.
“Next thing we’ll do is call the bank,” said the policeman. He hadn’t finished with the bag yet. “You might have left your purse there.”
He was now searching the side pockets. The old metal zipper got stuck.
The woman shook her head in despair. “I can remember quite clearly!” she said. “I took the money out of the dispenser, put it in my purse, and then I deliberately put the purse …”
She stared at his hand. In it was the purse. He held it out over the counter.
“… in the side pocket,” she murmured. “I’m so sorry, Sergeant! Oh dear, I’m ever so sorry, Sergeant! Because there was so much money in it! I deliberately put it in the side pocket, so I could zip it up. Oh dear!”
The policeman gave her a friendly smile and handed the purse over.
“And when you went to pay at the supermarket checkout, you’d forgotten where you put it, right?” he said gently. “It can happen to anybody. Just as long as you’re all right now.”
The old lady looked as if the embarrassment was almost worse than the original loss.
“How can I ever repay you?” she said, putting the purse back into the middle compartment of the bag with trembling fingers. “I’ve caused you so much trouble!”
“We’re always happy to help. That’s our job. No reward necessary.”
The old lady wanted to say something else, but by now Bea had really had enough.
“You left a message on our answering machine!” she declared.
“Good-bye, madam,” said the policeman, waving to the old lady as she turned in the doorway to thank him. “The world isn’t such a bad place as we sometimes think it is, is it?”
Only then did he turn to Bea.
“OK, young lady. Now it’s your turn. It all takes time. First things first, right?” He smiled and went into the next room. When he came back, he was holding something in his hand. “There we are, then. I’m making lots of people happy today. Sign here, please.”
Bea reached out. It really was her cell phone.
Impatiently she switched it on. “
Merci
very much,” she said, without even looking at the policeman.
“Just a second!” he said. “What’s the big rush? I need a signature. As I said, first things first.”
“OK,” said Bea. She picked up the ballpoint pen. “And thank you for calling me!”
The policeman took the form as Bea looked at the phone’s display:
TWO MESSAGES
.
ONE MISSED CALL
.
Without looking up, she went toward the exit door and brought up the list.
Jenna’s number — she knew it! Her fingers were trembling. Then twice a number she didn’t recognize, but also a text from Jenna. She hoped it hadn’t been sent before the kidnapping.
“Must be from the love of your life!” said the policeman. “Couldn’t even wait to get home, hmm?”
The display flickered. Jenna had sent a video. What was it supposed to be? Obviously it was night, and someone was rushing around, but the image was blurred. A truck, then another, men carrying things …
Bea looked at the number. Yes, the video had definitely been sent from Jenna’s phone. She watched it a second time, but still couldn’t figure it out. Why had Jenna sent this? And why hadn’t she written something to go with it?
She clocked back onto the main menu. The call had also come from a Scandian number, and the text:
Call me NOW!!! — Jenna
Bea looked at the display. She could hardly read it, she was so excited. Did Jenna mean this number or her own? She’d try the unknown number first, since the instruction had come from there. She hit the
CALLBACK
button.
It only took a few seconds, and then at the other end she heard Jenna’s voice, as clear as if she were sitting in her old room around the corner, like back in the pre-princess days.
“Jenna, OMG!” cried Bea. Her fingers were trembling so much now that she almost dropped the phone. “Are you free or what? Where are you? What’s happening? That country of yours is crazy!” She didn’t even notice the two policemen looking up at her.
“Bea!” cried Jenna down the line. “Bea, is it really you?”
“Yes!” said Bea. “What’s going on, Jenna? Are you safe?”
“Listen, Bea,” said Jenna in an urgent tone. “You must do exactly what I tell you, and do it now!”
“
Oui oui
, Your Royal Highness,” said Bea.
“Seriously!” cried Jenna. “Every second counts! There are people here plotting a coup. They might even be marching on Holmburg this very minute! But —”
“You mean the same people as last year? What’s-his-name Bullhorn?” said Bea with a frown. “But I thought —”
“Bea, love you, but stop interrupting me!” cried Jenna. “They’ve set up a depot where they’re storing all the goods that have run short in Scandia — in an old warehouse. Now you’ve got to —”
“Ah, so
that’s
the video!” said Bea. “The one you sent me, with a nighttime —”
“No, what I sent you was us in the pizza place!” said Jenna. “But —”
“The pizza place? Have you completely lost it?” said Bea. This was getting stranger by the second. “Maybe your crown is a tad too snug …”
“Bea!” yelled Jenna. “Listen, please! Things here are critical! This isn’t a game! You’ve got to tell a newspaper or a TV station to send someone there immediately —”
“Newspaper?” said Bea. She started looking around for the cameras, thinking maybe she was on one of those reality prank shows. “Now?”
“Or television,” said Jenna. Bea could hear that her voice was getting more and more desperate. “They’ve got to go to the abandaoned warehouse on the northern end of South Island, near Saarstad. Then they’ll see for themselves. All the big international media outlets have got correspondents in Scandia now!”
The line crackled.
“Bea, are you still there?” cried Jenna. “If you can’t get hold of a newspaper or TV reporter, then go to the police! They’ve got to help you! Can you hear me, Bea?” The signal had got so bad that her last words were barely audible.
“Affirmative!” said Bea. “The police — they’re right here. How did you know?”
But there was silence at the other end.
“Cut off,” said Bea to the policemen. “Unless she hung up. No, she wouldn’t do that.”
The two policemen looked at her. “We don’t believe in listening in on other people’s conversations,” said the one who had given her back her phone. “But we didn’t have much choice. Is there something the matter with your sweetheart?”
“Best friend,” Bea said, shaking her head. “I’m supposed to alert the media. I’ll show you the pictures.”
The policeman sighed. “Pictures? Don’t tell me you want to try out for one of those talent shows!” he said.
But Bea was already standing at the desk, playing Jenna’s video. “No, no, I did that last year. Ended up being a total scam,” she said dismissively. The second policeman joined them to look at the small screen. Maybe they’d be able to make more sense of all this.