Tweedledum and Tweedledee (15 page)

"You were right, buddy," I said.

I stared at the photo and started wondering about it. Who was it that had placed it under the door? Who was this strange killer on the ship? He was using a Polaroid camera. Not many did that anymore.

I turned to look at my dad. "Mr. and Mrs. Alessandrino had their picture taken with their daughter on the evening before she disappeared. I saw it in their room."

"Yeah. So what?" my dad asked with a yawn. "Lots of people get their photo taken on board."

"Yeah, but think of it. It's a Polaroid photo. They're pretty rare these days. Both pictures taken of the victims were taken with Polaroid cameras as well."

"So, you think it's the photographer? He's working for the cruise line, you know. He’s not some random guy taking pictures of people. It's his living. He uses Polaroid because people like the fact that they get the picture right away as a souvenir. I spoke to him the other day and he is a very interesting man. He likes to do the old-school instant photos for people and considers it an art-form in a world where everyone else relies on automatic digital cameras. We had a very interesting talk about it. He's been everywhere. He's been a fixture at festivals, parades and concerts, selling instant portraits to locals and tourists for many years."

"Okay. But just think of it for a second. It's a perfect way to find victims, right? I mean he gets close to everyone onboard. He gets to check them out and choose who he wants to attack," I said pensively.

My dad looked at me like I had lost it. "That's a little far-fetched Emma."

"Oh my God," I said. "He took our picture as well. Do you think he was checking us out too?"

My dad snorted. "I don't know. I don't think it’s very clever of us to walk around accusing people like this. At least be careful."

"I will. I'll tell the police my theory once they get here. It can't be long now before something happens. The entire ship must know about the photo by now. They must have called for the police."

As I spoke, someone knocked on my door. I went to open it. My mom burst in. Her cheeks were red. She was carrying several shopping bags.

"Oh my God. You won't believe the deals I've made today. Now, I know I’ve spent a little too much, Bengt, but bear with me. I have bought the most amazing stuff. Most of it is, after all,
for your eyes only
."

She paused and looked at us. "My, oh my. Why the gloomy faces?"

My dad got up and walked to her. "Don't freak out, Ulla. But we believe there is a killer on the loose on the ship. He killed both Alberto Colombo and Francesca Alessandrino. Maybe he even also killed the guy that Francesca was seen with. Emma thinks he might have had his eyes on us too."

"Oh, my God," my mother burst out.

"What?"

"There was a lot of turmoil downstairs on the shopping and dining deck. I talked to this woman and she told me there was a guy in the bathroom who had fainted. They found him lying on the floor, bleeding from his shoulder. Do you think someone tried to kill him?"

I looked at my dad. "I don't know," I said. "I think I'll go and check it out. If the police have arrived, I want to talk to them. Could you two watch Victor and Christoffer for me?"

"Of course," my dad said.

My mother grabbed my arm when I passed her. She pulled me close and kissed my forehead.

"Be careful, sweetheart."

I smiled at her. She did know how to be a mother after all.

42

April 1984

T
HE TWINS WOKE UP
in a different kind of cage. A small closed room with no windows and only white walls. They were lying on a bed, but could hardly move. They had been strapped down. All four arms and three legs were tied to the bed and, no matter how much they pulled and moved around, they stayed that way.

They turned their heads and looked into each other's eyes, both of them sensing the other's deep fear. Many things had happened to them in their short time on this earth. But never this.

They had no idea where they were or who was holding them captive, but they were determined to get out. They had tried to live a life of freedom and they weren't going to let go of that at any cost.

They waited for many hours before the door to the room finally opened and someone entered. A group of four men in white coats, with charts in their hands and serious faces.

"We had to strap them down," the man in the front wearing glasses said, as the others followed him inside. "We were afraid they might hurt someone or themselves."

The twins gasped, then tried to break loose by pulling forcefully on the straps, but nothing happened. The twins growled and snarled as the group came closer. Never had the twins seen anything like these people and, given their past with people, they immediately feared the worst from them.

The men spoke amongst each other, while looking at the twins from all directions and angles. They walked around the bed and stared at them, then made notes on their pads and charts, while nodding and agreeing. The first man spoke and said things the twins didn't understand. Sentences including words like
Mental and Behavioral disorder
filled the room and the twins had no idea what they meant or how it would affect their future. But they knew it wasn't good. These men didn't want them for anything good.

They howled and barked if the men came too close. They snapped their teeth at them to have them keep their distance.

"We had to cut their nails so they wouldn't scratch any of the personnel here or themselves," the man with the glasses continued.

"It's truly extraordinary," another man said and scratched his beard. "Don't think I have ever seen anything like this before."

The men agreed and mumbled between themselves. The twins cringed in fear, as the eyes in the room kept examining them and their mutual body. One of the men lifted an arm carefully to look at the twin's abdomen. The twins snapped their teeth at him. He gasped and pulled backwards.

"As you gentlemen might see, we do believe there is no future for them in our society if they stay conjoined," the one with glasses continued. "We do believe it would serve both of them best if they were separated. That's the only way we can start treatment of them separately. The way it is now, they seem to only be interested in each other and nothing else. They even speak their own language between them that no one else understands."

"I concur," another of the men said. "The only way these two can get better and get a life is if they're separated."

"But, you really think it’s possible?" another one said. "I mean, they share lots of vital organs, don't they? A surgery like this is usually best done at birth, am I correct?"

The man with the glasses nodded, then pulled out a big picture and showed it to them. "As our examination of them while they were sedated shows, they each have their own brain, heart and two kidneys; they only have one liver and a single reproductive organ. Their third leg is vestigial and the twins keep it concealed in their clothing. They can stand, but they cannot walk; they crawl on their hands and feet, which is why they have long been known as the
Spider-boys
. The twins are joined at the abdomen and pelvis, have four arms, and three legs. So, if you look at it, all they really share is the liver and their reproductive organ. The way I see it, separation is not only possible, it's a must. Their body won't be able to continue to sustain keeping both of them alive. Just the fact that they're walking on their arms provides an unnecessary strain on their joints. It's just not natural what they're doing. Not to mention their psychological state of mind. The way it is now, they're like wild animals. No one has taken care of them and they need our help. Now, after the surgery the one on the left will have two legs, the other only one, and will not be able to walk. But the way I see it, at least one of them will have the chance to have a completely normal life. The other will be in a wheelchair for the rest of his life, but will still be able to live close to normally. Time will tell if a liver transplant is needed. With the right medicine and behavioral therapy afterwards, I believe we can make it far with them. I will, of course, perform the procedure myself."

The bearded man patted the man with the glasses on the shoulder. "Surgery to separate conjoined twins is an extremely complex surgery, depending of course on the point of attachment and the internal parts that are shared. Most cases of separation are extremely risky and life-threatening. If you pull this off, your name will be in the books of medical history my friend. You'll be up there with Dr. Bertram Katz, who performed the first separation in 1957."

The man with the glasses nodded. He smiled with satisfaction while his colleague spoke.

"Dr. Alessandrino, the world-renowned surgeon who was first to successfully separate teen-aged conjoined twins. That is truly something, huh?"

Then they all left, nodding and mumbling.

Back in the room, the twins had become quiet as the grave. They might not be able to understand many things, but they knew what
separation
meant.

43

April 2014

T
HE MAN SAW A
bright light and thought for a second he might have died. Until he opened his eyes and realized the light was coming from the lamp above his head, the lamp lighting up the dark restroom on the ship.

His shoulder was hurting badly and he groaned while trying to get up. A voice reached him from beyond the bright light.

"Are you alright, sir?"

The man squinted. He spotted a dark face in the distance. "What…what happened?" he asked.

"I believe you fainted, sir."

The man blinked his eyes several times and now realized a crowd had gathered in the restroom and they were all looking at him.

"Are you alright, sir?" someone repeated.

The man grunted. He sat up and held a hand to his hurting shoulder, while everything slowly came back to him. The failed attempt to catch another donor, the dizziness, the sea of stars that he had plunged into as the boy had left calling him an old pig.

"I'm fine," he growled.

He tried to get up. Someone grabbed his arm and helped him.

"I think you're bleeding, sir. Do you want me to call for help?"

The man shook his head. He needed to get away before the boy said anything to his mother. He had no idea how long he had been lying on the floor.

"Deedee," he mumbled and let himself be pulled up from the ground.

"What was that?"

The man shook his head. He felt drops of sweat roll across hos forehead. His cheeks were burning. He had to get ahold of some penicillin.

"Nothing. I just…I just need to…If I could only…," he pointed at the door and the crowd spread and let him exit the restroom. The man hurried through the fast-food restaurant and spotted the boy sitting next to his mother playing his Gameboy. The man breathed a sigh of relief. He hadn't said anything.

The man staggered through the ship's corridors, while he sensed how he was slowly regaining his strength and ability to think straight.

Deedee needs you. Deedee needs a donor. Can't give up now. Not when we're this close. You need to focus on what's important now.

The man didn't have to think for long before he knew what to do. He had messed up. The boy in the restroom had seen his face and would tell as soon as another boy disappeared. He would tell them about the strange man in the restroom. Then they would know who to look for. They would come for him. The man couldn't risk being stopped. Not now that he was so close. He had to move on with his plan. Before anyone was on to him. This was more important than anything else.

The man stormed up the stairs to the upper deck, then paused to catch his breath. He walked slowly towards the room where he knew the boy was staying. The man had kept a close eye on him ever since he saw him on the deck on the day of the departure.

As the man was walking towards the door, it opened and he decided to continue straight ahead. The woman the man believed was the boy's mother exited looking very determined and closed the door behind her. The man smiled at her and nodded politely as he walked past her room. The woman smiled back, said a quiet "Hello," then continued in the opposite direction.

I can't believe our luck, Deedee. Did you see it, did you? She didn't bring the boy. She left him in the room, Deedee. I can't believe it. Soon you'll have your face. I promise it.

The man pulled out a card and put it in the reader. He slid it soundlessly and waited for the click-sound and the green lamp to flash.

Then, he entered. The younger boy was lying on the couch in the living room of the suite. The other was in the smaller bedroom, also asleep. The man approached him walking silently across the carpets. Then he stopped. There was a sound from somewhere else. It sounded like it came from the master bedroom. The door was closed. The man held his breath. Was there someone in there? Who?

The man shook his head. It didn't matter. The people in there seemed busy. A woman whined in joy. The man concentrated on the boy. He snuck closer. The boy's eyes were closed. His breathing calm. He seemed to be asleep.

Just a few minutes more, Deedee. Just a little longer.

The man reached into his pocket and pulled out a syringe. Without making a sound, he placed it on the boy's bare thigh, right where the shorts stopped and pressed it through the skin with a small groan of pleasure.

Now he's ours Deedee. He's all ours.

44

April 2014

I
WENT DOWNSTAIRS
and walked around a little. My mom told me the man had fainted in the bathroom next to the fried chicken place. I walked in there and close to the men's bathroom, but no one was there. There wasn't even a crowd of people. I asked a guy coming out of the restroom and he told me he hadn't seen or heard anything.