who have bet everything they’ve got put their cards on the table.
Finally, after an interval that, for all involved, feels like being held underwater with no possibility of breathing,
the man in the white shirt starts slowly leafing through the papers in his arms.
“Where did you get all this shit?” he hisses, his shoulders hoisted up around his neck.
“On the InterNET!” rages Ove, abrupt and furious as he steps out of Anita and Rune’s row house with his fists clenched by his hips.
The man in the white shirt looks up again. Lena clears her throat and pokes helpfully at the pile of paper.
“Maybe there’s nothing illegal in all these old records, but my editor is pretty certain that with the right kind of media scrutiny
it would take months for your section to go through all the legal processes. Years, maybe...”
Gently she puts her hand on the man’s shoulder. “So I think it might be easiest for everyone concerned if you just leave now,” she whispers.
And then, to Ove’s sincere surprise, the little man does just that. He turns around and leaves, followed by the three nurses.
He goes around the corner and disappears the way shadows do when the sun reaches its apex in the sky.
Or like villains at the ends of stories. Lena nods, self-satisfied, at Ove.
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