The woman again fell silent.
"Tell me about your work."
"Is that really relevant?" Beata asked with surprise.
No, not one bit, but it'll buy me time, Annika thought to herself.
"Yes, of course," she said. "A lot of people work. They will want to know what your job was like, what was on your mind when you were doing it, things like that…"
Beata straightened up. "Oh, yes, I can see that," she said.
Self-centered little shit, Annika thought to herself and managed a smile.
"I don't know how versed you are in the building trade. Maybe you don't know how the process of procurement is carried out? Actually, it doesn't really matter in this case, since the building of Victoria Stadium was so special that no general rules applied.
"Stockholm was chosen to host the Summer Olympic Games under the leadership of Christina Furhage, you know that. The decision wasn't a straightforward one. She really had to fight for her post.
"Christina really was amazing. She pushed the Olympic suits around something wonderful! We women really enjoyed having a boss like that. Not that I met her very often, but since she kept an eye on every single detail in the entire organization, I did run in to her now and then.
"I admired her a lot. When she came around, everyone pulled their socks up and did their best. She had that effect on people. What she didn't know about the Olympic planning and the building of the arena wasn't worth knowing.
"Anyway, I was employed by Arena Bygg AB. As I was both an architect and a constructional engineer, I was given several major administrative assignments straight away. I took part in negotiations, made construction drawings and calculations, visited subcontractors, and drew up contracts— a kind of general factotum in a semi-important position.
"The actual construction of Victoria Stadium was supposed to begin five years before the Games. Christina herself appointed me project manager. I remember clearly the day she asked me. I'd been called to her office, a grandiose place next door to Rosenbad with a view over the Stockholm Canal. She asked what I had been doing so far and if I was happy. I didn't think I'd done very well and stuttered a bit— my hands were all clammy. She was so impressive behind her polished desk: tall, yet slim; sharp, yet beautiful. She asked me whether I was willing to take responsibility for the building of the Olympic stadium in Hammarby Dock. My head was spinning when she uttered the words. I wanted to shout 'Oh yes!' but just nodded and said it would be a challenge. An exciting responsibility I felt ready to shoulder. She quickly added that I would have several managers and other people above me, and at the top, her. But she needed someone on site who was responsible for the operation, someone who would see to it that it ran according to schedule, that we weren't over budget, and that deliveries of building material arrived in the right place at the right time. I would of course have a team of foremen under me with responsibility for specific sections where they led the work. These foremen would be reporting to me, so that I in my turn could do my job and report to Christina and the board.
" 'I need loyalty,' Christina said and leaned toward me. 'I need your unwavering conviction that what I do is right. That's a prerequisite for anyone taking this job. Can I trust you?'
"I remember her radiance at that precise moment, how she brought me into her light, filling me with her strength and power. I wanted to scream 'YES!' but instead I just nodded. Because I knew what had happened— she had included me in her circle. She had made me her crown princess. I was chosen."
Beata started crying. She bent her head and her whole body was shaking. The rope lay by her feet, her hands holding the battery and the fuse in a desperate grip. I hope her tears don't short-circuit the battery so the charge is set off, Annika thought.
"I'm sorry," Beata said and wiped her nose on the sleeve of her coat. "This is hard for me."
Annika didn't say anything.
"It was a big responsibility, but it wasn't really a difficult job. First there was the clearing, the blasting, the excavating, and subsequent filling in and moulding. Then the builders and carpenters would arrive. It all had to be done in four years. The arena was to be ready for trial competitions a year ahead of the Games.
"It went all right at first. The workers drove their machines around and did what they were supposed to be doing. I had my office in one of the sheds down by the canal. Maybe you saw them when you came to have a look? No?
"Anyway, I did my job, talking to the coordinators down in the pit, making sure they carried out their tasks. The men who did the actual work weren't very talkative, but at least they listened to me when I gave them directions.
"Once a month, I went to Christina's office and told her how the work was coming on. She always received me with warmth and interest. After every meeting, I felt as if she knew beforehand what I was going to tell her and that she just wanted to check up on my loyalty. I always left her office with a churning feeling in the pit of my stomach and a peculiar sense of exhilaration. I was still in her circle, the power was mine, but I would have to continue fighting for it.
"I really loved my work. Sometimes, in the evening, I would stay behind after the men had gone home. On my own, I would climb around among the remains of the old Hammarby ski slope, imagining the finished arena: the enormous stands, the 75,000 spectator seats in green, the sweep of the arched openwork steel roof. I would caress the construction drawings. I even put up a large-scale picture of the model on the wall in my office. From the very beginning, I talked to the stadium. Just like a newborn baby, it didn't answer, but I'm sure it listened. I observed every detail in its development, like a breastfeeding mother marveling at the progress in her child.
"The problems started when the foundation was laid and the carpenters arrived. Several hundred men were going to perform the work I was responsible for. They were supervised by thirty-five team leaders, all men between forty and fifty-five. At this point, my workload quadrupled. On my advice, three supervisors were hired who were to share the responsibility with me, all men.
"I don't know where it all went wrong. I continued working in the same way as I had been the first years, trying to be clear and straightforward and direct. We stayed within budget and on schedule as well. Building materials arrived on time and at the right place, and work was progressing and meeting the quality requirements. I tried to be cheerful and friendly, taking pains to treat the men with respect. I can't quite say when the first signals that something was wrong started appearing, but it didn't take long. Conversations that stopped, faces I wasn't meant to see, condescending smiles, cold eyes. I organized information and update meetings, which I found constructive myself, but my message wasn't getting through. In the end, the foremen stopped coming. I'd go outside to get them, but they would just look at me and say they were busy. Naturally, it made me feel like a fool. The few who did show up questioned everything I said. They said I had ordered the material in the wrong sequence, at the wrong place, and anyway the entire batch was useless as they'd already ordered another load. Of course, that angered me, and I asked on what authority they ignored my orders and took it upon themselves to make decisions in this way. They answered me in a condescending tone: that if this project ever was to be finished on time, it needed people who knew what they were doing. I remember the feeling when I heard those words; it was as if something broke inside me. The men got up and left, contempt in their eyes. The three supervisors immediately under me stopped just outside and talked to the foremen. I heard them giving
my
orders and forwarding exactly the information I had on the paper in my hand— now they listened. They could take my orders if given by someone else. It wasn't my work, my judgement, or my knowledge they found faults with: It was me as a person.
"After the meeting, I summoned the three supervisors and said that we needed to work out our next step. I wanted the four of us together to put the organization to rights and take command of the employees in order for work to continue in the direction we'd decided on. They sat down around my desk, one on each side and one directly in front of me.
" 'You can't handle this job,' the first one said.
" 'Don't you see you're making a complete fool of yourself around the whole site?' asked one of his companions.
" 'Frankly, you're a joke,' the third one said. 'You've no authority, no command, and no competence.'
"I just stared at them. I couldn't believe what they were saying was true. I knew they were wrong. But once they'd got going, nothing could stop them.
" 'All you can do is swing your hips,' said number one.
" 'You're demanding too much of the men,' said number two. 'It's obvious. You must see it.'
" 'They're going to freeze you out completely,' number three said. 'You were hired on the wrong grounds and with the wrong background.'
"I remember looking at them, seeing their faces change. They all lost their features and became white and vague. I couldn't get any air; I thought I was going to suffocate. I got up and left the room. I'm afraid it didn't come over as particularly dignified."
The woman sniveled with her head bent down. Annika glanced at her with aversion. "So what?" she wanted to say. "It's like that for everybody," but she didn't say anything, and Beata continued her story:
"That night in bed, my house talked to me; words of comfort whispered through the rose-patterned wallpaper. The next day, I couldn't bear to go to work. I was paralyzed with fear, tied to my bed with it. Christina saved me. She called me at home and asked me to come to work the following morning. She had some important information that concerned everyone at the building site.
"I went to the shed the next morning in a state of peace. We had been asked to come to the North Stand at eleven o'clock. The three supervisors didn't speak to me, but I smiled at them so that they'd understand. Christina would soon be there.
"I waited for everyone to be present before I went out. I made sure I'd walk out on the stand the same time as Christina. In her light, clear voice, she said she was there to inform us of a change in management at the Olympic stadium. I felt her warmth and smiled.
" 'Beata Ekesjö will leave as project manager and be replaced by the three supervisors immediately under her,' Christina said. 'I have full confidence in her succesors and hope that work will progress as successfully as it has so far.'
"It was as if the sky had turned a flashing white. The light changed and the people froze to ice.
"On that day, the realization of what I had to do was born, but I hadn't yet formulated the goal to myself. I left the North Stand while the people were still listening to Christina's charismatic voice. Inside the shed, I had my bag with gym clothes, as I'd planned to go to the gym straight after work. I emptied the bag of its contents in my locker and brought the bag with me around to the back of the sheds. That's where the explosives bins stood, about a hundred yards apart— there are rules about how close they can stand because of the risk of detonation. One set of cartridges fits perfectly inside a gym bag; it's almost as if they're made for each other. It got really heavy, fifty pounds with the bag. But that's about the weight of a normal suitcase. You can carry it a short distance, especially if you work out in a gym three times a week…"
"Hang on," Annika said. "Aren't explosives usually guarded by all kinds of safety regulations? How could you just walk in and pick up a load of explosives?"
Beata gave her a look of pity. "Annika, I was the boss at that site. I had keys to all the locks. And I fixed the ledger so the stuff wouldn't be missed. Don't interrupt me."
"In the first box were fifteen cartridges wrapped in pink plastic. I put the box in the trunk of my car and drove home. With great care I carried my treasure into the house. That night I caressed it with my hands. There were metal clips at both ends; the plastic felt cool to the touch. My weapons both looked and felt like sausages that have been in the fridge. They were quite soft; in the evening I would sit and bend them this way and that. Yes, just like sausages, only heavier."
Beata laughed at the memory. Annika felt sick, from tiredness but also from the other woman's absolute madness.
"Can we take a break?" Annika wondered. "I'd like to have a Coke."
looked up at her. "Well, a short break. We have to finish tonight."
Annika felt herself stop cold.
"They didn't know what to do with me. My contract was for the construction of the Olympic stadium and the Village. They'd have to pay me a lot to get rid of me, and they didn't want to do that. Besides, I knew the job, so it would be stupid of them to pay for losing expertise that they needed. In the end, they made me site engineer for the construction of the technical facilities building right next to the stadium; an ordinary ten-floor building built to house cables, control rooms, and offices. Do I need to tell you that this structure felt mute and dead compared with my stadium? An empty concrete shell with no contours or shape— and it never learned to speak.
