My Dirty Little Book of Stolen Time (6 page)

‘What “things" went on?' I asked, a shudder running through me as I recalled Gudrun Olsen's talk of demonic machinery & sewer
rats. But he did not answer me directly.

‘I was acquainted with Professor Krak,' he said. I did not recognize the expression that came over his face, for I had never
encountered it before; studying him closely, I remarked he looked uncomfortable, as though remembering something he would
rather not.

‘And what business had you with him, if I may ask?'

Herr Bang looked around him, as though to confirm that I was the only customer in the shop, which I was, then took out a stepladder
& reached for a jar of liquid from a high shelf, which he proceeded to stir furiously with a small metal whisk. ‘Dark business,'
he said finally, as though that were the end of it. But I would not let him escape.

‘But of what nature, pray? You cannot just say “dark business", sir, & then leave it hanging!'

He sighed, clearly excruciated, & whisked ever more energetically, so that the liquid began to froth quite alarmingly, & generate
little underwater sparks.

‘I would not like my wife to hear of this,' he said. ‘For she prefers me not to dwell on my unhappy past, knowing how much
it pains me. But here it is. You see, I was married before, & my first wife caught tuberculosis & died, & so did our young
baby, only six months old,' he said, still mixing vigorously.

Then he stopped & looked at me, & I saw tears in his eyes. ‘It is a cruel disease.' We both surveyed the jar for a moment,
in which the liquid – a pale green – was still swirling around, the little sparking particles glittering luminously within.

‘I am sorry, Herr Bang,' I said softly. ‘I did not know of this.'

‘I was a very unhappy man &, to be honest, all I wanted was oblivion. I had heard on the grapevine that Professor Krak was
known to offer … certain discreet services. To which, I will confess, I felt very much drawn at the time, in my distress. I felt so helpless without my wife & son, & would never have believed that only two years later I would meet my present darling wife & have three more children, & be as contented as I am. I thought my life was at an end.'

‘What services?' I asked, picturing an unhappy brothel – until I remembered Gudrun Olsen speculating about séances. ‘Did he put you in touch with the dead?'

‘In a manner of speaking, yes,' he said cryptically. ‘But let me just say that they were not joyful services he offered. They were for the desperate among us, & I was one of their number then. He offered what he called journeys to the Great Beyond.'

‘The Great Beyond? What & where is that?'

‘I never discovered. Let me just say that I looked into the abyss down in the basement, my dear – but I feared what I saw, & pulled away.' His face had taken on a different cast, both wistful & full of pain. I knew better than to break the spell of his mournful reverie & so I waited. ‘He was a likeable man, for all his oddness & eccentricity. I got the impression he was on a kind of mission. He spoke of those who used his services as “pioneers”.' He chuckled. ‘I'll never forget all those clocks he had everywhere,' he said, then paused in his whisking process to survey the jar of liquid, which had now turned a much lighter hue. ‘Hundreds of them, all telling a different time, according to what capital city they represented.'

‘What clocks?' I asked sharply, feeling a sudden chill, for I could picture not a single timepiece in the whole house.

‘Ah. She'll have got rid of them then,' he said, nodding slowly. Then he squinted at the window. ‘Did you see that man in
the balaclava peering in just now?' he asked suddenly.

‘A balaclava?' I queried. I looked out, but saw nothing. ‘It seems to be quite popular head-gear this winter,' I said, remembering
my guide on Strandboulevarden, but feeling a strange uneasiness as I did so.

‘He seemed keen to come in, then changed his mind,' mused Herr Bang. ‘He was probably after something embarrassing. They tend
to loiter.'

‘So tell me, what did Professor Krak offer, exactly?' I asked, not wanting him to lose the thread. Herr Bang thought for a
moment.

‘Well, he claimed that an invention of his – a certain machine he had built – could provide a solution whereby one's body
would never be found. Whether it eliminated you or transported you elsewhere I never discovered, & I am not certain he did
either. Many chose that route, even though Professor Krak warned that there were risks. But I decided against it, & do not
regret delaying my journey to the Great Beyond.'

Seeming suddenly ill-at-ease, as if he felt he had said too much, Herr Bang stopped whisking, rinsed his implement, screwed
the lid tightly back on the jar, mounted his little stepladder & returned it to the shelf, then reached for his waistcoat
& pulled out his pocket-watch, which he flicked open & scrutinized. ‘Now, my dear,' he said with finality & a firm smile.
‘I must close the shop for lunch or my dear wife will worry. The joys of marriage, dear Charlotte. I cannot tell you. I wish
the same for you one day, for you deserve a better life than whoring, if you don't mind my mentioning your trade. But stay
away from that place, I implore you, & please, for my wife's sake, keep this conversation to yourself

‘Did he do things with rats?' I asked, as he began pulling down the shutters & fiddle-faddling with keys. ‘Did you witness
wizardry?'

The fragments of the jigsaw were there, but piece them together coherently I could not. I would get no more clues from Herr
Bang, though, that I could see, for he had become furiously & briskly normal, chatting as though steam-powered, about such
topics as a new kind of luminescent soap imported from Geneva, the debate on human slavery, & the best temperature for the
storage of horse-manure.

That night, as I lay sleepless next to the deeply snoring Herr Axel Axelsen (a client who took regular advantage of my overnight
bargain – sunset to sunrise, with limitless shagging & all extras thrown in gratis), my exhausted but excited mind flitted
through what I knew & what I still knew not, what I had guessed & others had surmised or hinted at, until my head was ascuzz
with disjointed images & battling thoughts. I suffered this a while, along with Herr Axelsen's snoring, which conjoined with
that of Fru Schleswig in the adjacent room to create a veritable cacophony, until I realized that I would not sleep until
I had done something, & that I must do what I always do when in a state of puzzlement: reach for a quill & chart my notions
on paper. So I got up, lit a candle, threw on my frayed green silk kimono & sat at my writing desk where, to the sound of
rival snores, with pen & ink I created a list, thus:

Clues

Fru Krak's anxiety … the disappearance of Professor Krak – & others ???

Séances? – contact with the dead

‘Dark services' mentioned by Herr Bang, with reference to

Oblivion & the Great Beyond

Sightings of the ghost of Professor Krak

Missing clocks

Sewer rats

Suspected wizardry

Gudrun Olsen's mutilation, caused by something
not of
human flesh,
& involving her own ‘excruciating guilt'

A machine, made of bizarre components amassed in a secretive manner

But the components did nothing but float before me, defying logic & coherence, with the word ‘Machine' dancing tantalizingly
as though jeering at my muddle & stupidity. And yet, I thought, if I could only clap eyes on this thing – the one object here
which seemed to have more solid possibilities than the others – then might all the rest be explained? I had by now almost
finished my cartography of the house's many rooms & corridors, its unlikely staircases & hidden accesses, & was ready to pinpoint
the two basement chambers that Gudrun Olsen had referred to as the workshop & the Oblivion Room, though the problem of the
keys, & how to get hold of them, remained, for a rigorous search of the Krakster's cupboards, closets, wardrobes & chests
of drawers revealed no set of duplicates which I might steal. I was just pondering this conundrum, & felt myself to be on
the brink of an ingenious solution regarding trained mice with miniature lassos (may I remind you that I was very tired),
when Herr Axelsen's snoring changed & he rolled over, reaching out an arm for me, so quickly I shed my robe, blew out the
candle, & slid in next to my client so we lay naked like spoons, & felt his half-sleeping member instantly twitch & then resolutely
harden in the old familiar manner of men & their urges, & I gently guided him into me, where after a few hearty, somnambulant
thrusts he spilled himself with a small grunt without ever waking up, which touched me deeply, for I have always loved the
simple connection that exists between a man & his needs, so uncomplicated compared to a woman's tangled & contradictory skein
of feelings & hopes. How I do enjoy the company of men, I mused as I sank back sleepily with my buttocks pressing against
the soft pregnancy of Herr Axelsen's beer paunch, & how grateful I am for the way their physical side takes control, regularly
over-ruling the well-intentioned edicts of their dear muddled brains! Were it not for that, how on earth would I make a living?

The next morn, having dispatched Herr Axelsen home a happier man, I roused Fru Schleswig & accompanied her to Number Nine Rosenvængets Allé, where Fru Krak was all a-yelling & a-bustle, for she could not locate her silk-and-pigskin umbrella. On
the pretext of searching for it, I did a quick tour of the house to assure myself that the map I had fashioned was accurate.
There were still some grey areas, but I deemed that the mysterious set of underground rooms were likely to be found in one
of the three basements in the house – two of which I judged to be located beneath the main part of the building, & the third
in the bowels of the small annexe that gave on to the garden. (NB And now before you do anything else, take a moment of your
precious time to scrutinize my map carefully, my darling one, &, in the process of doing so, admire its intricacy, for it
took me hours to draw!)

I found the missing umbrella among all the others stacked in the unlikely location of the elephant's-foot umbrella-stand,
then waited impatiently for Fru Krak (dressed today in dull purple, & adorned with violet gems) to leave the house. I had
a hunch that she would be headed for the botanical gardens later on, as I had read her horoscope in the
Fine Lady
the previous day:
As an astute Aquarian Woman,
you will need to plan your finances in view of the material changes
on the horizon. Remember that men do not respect a woman who is
not a Lady, so those of a lesser rank pose you no threat, & indeed
can work to your advantage, so you can afford to pity them. Celebrate
this knowledge by wearing this week's lucky gemstone: amethyst.
With Jupiter in the ascendant, now is the perfect time to commune
with all that is exotic in Nature, but continue to beware of all that
lurks
BELOW GROUND.