When I come back from the lavatory, with my pink dress in my hand, in my role as Benny the Brave, I get a dreadful feeling: "Frieda? Are you well?"
Frieda nods, but she doesn't convince me. She looks… fragile, vulnerable, and insecure. She's been sick again, I can smell it, but she has hidden the proof in a silly attempt to avoid my concern about her.
"«Well» as in «all right»? And I'm being foolish? It seems to me something bothers you."
"It's okay. I'm okay."
"I'm worried about you. You're not well. There's too much of a storm in your head. I want you to get it out of there. You can't handle this alone. You can't hide in your thoughts and hope they will go away. You need someone to help you, someone to talk to."
It's better for everyone to bring her back to the clinic. She's made a big step forward, it's true, but I keep forgetting she's a patient who suffered a major trauma. I need her for this mission, I want her to be around because she's great company and a great partner, but enough is enough. She needs her doctor and her time to recover, and I should behave like a big boy too and do this work by myself, like I've always done.
Frieda looks out of the window, produces a weak smile, and whispers: "Camilla said I was beautiful."
"And she also said I'm ugly. People say all sorts of things, mostly because they want something from others for their own benefit. There's a monster, living under your bed, and it's whispering in your ear. There's an angel, flying over your head, and she tells you there's nothing to fear. And there's you, and you wonder: which of those two is sincere? But it only works if you're honest with yourself. Admit: you are what you are, with your qualities and your minor points, and you're working hard to become a better person. If you're a realist, like me, you don't have to be afraid of anything."
Frieda looks me in the eye: "I'm not afraid. You don't have to worry about me either; I'm better than I've been in a long time and I'm working hard to puzzle out the rest. There's nothing to worry about… Well… There's something… I should warn you…"
Now, I'm getting worried, too. She looks almost desperate. But I should not show my fears. I control my breathing, deep in, deep out, deep in, look for my inner peace, put on my experienced confident smile, and take away her doubts: "There's nothing to worry about, dear. I'm a big boy and I can take care of myself."
"You don't understand…"
"Well? Explain it to me, in simple words and short sentences."
"It's a long story."
"I love long stories. «The Lord of the Rings» is among my favourites and it's a trilogy. Seven-volume series like «Harry Potter» are even better. And until this train reaches our destination, we don't have anything urgent to do. Start with the prologue. I'll get us coffee and cake after each chapter."
I get a watery smile for an answer: "I live — well, before I went to the clinic — I lived at my parents' house."
"And you finished high school and studied at Stockholm University. But you never graduated, thanks to a temporary interruption that, I hope, will be over soon."
"I studied management. My father is the CEO of a major company. I hoped he'd like it if his daughter followed in his footsteps. But before I tell you about my family, I'll tell you something about modern management, something I studied. Do you know what the task of a modern leader, is?"
"Organization, efficiency.", I answer.
"The organization is in the hands of the lower managers, the sergeants and the lieutenants. Efficiency is in the hands of specialists who studied marketing or technology, the SEALS or the marines. The task of the general, if we stay with the army metaphor, is motivation and inspiration. Nelson Mandela was a great leader because he inspired millions of people, even far outside of his country. Is it short and simple so far?"
"It is. You're learning to become the next Nelson Mandela, and you've learnt a lot already because you've inspired me to give it my best in this mission."
Frieda continues her master class: "Inspiration isn't an ingredient. It's a final product. It's the result of what happens when you use what you learn, studying management at University. A good leader inspires and motivates everyone in hor company but… How do I make this clear?"
"If she wants to bake a spectacular pizza, a good cook buys the best fresh ingredients, uses hor experience and techniques to make the finest bottom, and finally needs the best oven at the right temperature. Inspiration is the pizza, the final product of the ingredients + techniques + tools formula. What are the ingredients, the tools, and the techniques of an inspiring leader?"
A warm smile rewards the teacher's favourite pupil for paying attention: "The first ingredient is the contract every employee signs, the piece of paper, telling you what the company wants from you and what you get in return. The second ingredient is the freedom that the general gives each soldier to give all hor talents to the job, and the third one is the guarantee that your effort will be rewarded."
"Aren't those last two a part of the contract?"
"No. Your boss gave you an assignment: find info about Agneta. That's the contract, the instruction, and you get paid to do it. But then you find something unexpected; it might help the company you work for, but it's not guaranteed it will help you, personally. You can get into trouble. So you need a manager, your Boss, who you can talk to. He grants you the freedom to use all your qualities, plus your colleague's backup, and perhaps a promotion if you succeed. Information about the goals, freedom to work independently, support, and a reward when you succeed. The promotion doesn't inspire you, as it's not even sure, and inspiration isn't in your contract either. It's the freedom, the responsibility you feel for your job and the company you work for, which inspires you to accept this extra challenge and do more than your best to make a success of it. By giving you his confidence and respecting your qualities, your boss inspires you to become a better man. Was this a proper example to explain the theory?"
"I would say: it's a perfect example."
"There is one word for each of those three ingredients that, when used correctly, produce inspiration and motivation: Commitment, Respect, Trust. Commitment is the contract. Respect is the freedom you're given and Trust is what both your boss and you should have in each other. It guarantees you're part of something bigger than yourself, a company, a country or, if you like, a family."
Rostov. They learn a lot at school, and most of all, they learn to explain difficult things in an easy way.
I nod: "Commitment, Respect and Trust. I get it. So a good leader, being either a general in an army, a CEO of a major company, a President of a country, or a parent of a family, should show (and ask back) trust from the soldiers, insist on mutual respect, and also put goals, rules and consequences on paper. In a family, Commitment is what you promise when you say «I Do», right? We promise to take care of each other, for bad and for worse, until our lawyers tear us apart."
"Something like that. Now, look at the family where I grew up in. My parents committed themselves to taking care of us, their two daughters, but in fact, they gave all their attention to Agneta and sort of 'forgot' about me. When I was five, we went for a holiday to the north. When they returned home one week later, my dad had to do the trip one more time because they forgot me; I was still in the cabin near the lake where they told me to sit still and be quiet. My parents never accepted any form of criticism from me, which they taught me with their words: «you have to show some respect to your parents». They never were interested in me, my needs and my shortcomings. Respect is tolerance and acceptance. It comes with patience and understanding. My parents never showed those qualities to me. They always pointed at my perfect sister and insisted I'd grow up like her. No matter how much soap I use, I can't wash the dark side of my face away. And trust…? You found out about my mother's affair. She proved she couldn't be trusted. I won't tell you the stories about my father, who proved the same at work."
I get a feeling where this University speech will lead to: "But your sister was different. She respected you, she committed herself to taking care of you, and you both trusted each other. Right?"
"You're a good listener. Agneta was different. She is so beautiful and such a charming person, she never had to fight to get what she wanted; she got it all handed on a plate. Oh, she had to work for her degree, of course, and she had a hard time finding out what she finally wanted in life, but her superior intelligence made a difficult study easy, and her warm personality gave her access to every job or opportunity she liked. Why is such a woman still single?"
"She's a lesbian?"
"No, she's not. She can get who she wants, and she wants the best, the highest, the Number One available on the Husbands Market. We talked a lot about it. She's not like my mum, who used her charm to hook the hottest man she could find and adapted to his minor qualities. My dad is… boring. He's only interested in his work. His only hobby is reading books about battles and the military. He read Tolstoy's «War and Peace» over twenty times."
"Agneta has higher standards."
"She has. She wants a man who shows commitment, respect and trust, to start with, and on top of that, he should have an interesting job, be a sportive supportive friend to spend her free time with, and he should also have some household qualities, like fixing things, do the laundry, or cook for her…"
Suddenly, I start to feel a bit uncomfortable. It's not fear. I'm not afraid of anything. But uncomfortable, it is.
Frieda continues: "Agneta explained to me that those three ingredients of management — Commitment, Respect and Trust — are in fact the same three ingredients she (and anyone else, man or woman) would like to see in hor life partner. She didn't only understand the importance of these three ingredients, she even thought of one word that unites them all…"
I don't know where those little drops on my forehead come from. I have a little difficulty with breathing. Is it hot in here? Or is it just me, feeling a bit uncomfortable…?
"Is that word… «friendship»?"
"It's «love». Love is hard to explain, but we can work on showing trust, respect and commitment to each other. Like you can't teach a student to become an inspiring leader, you can't teach a husband to love you. But you can look for someone who shows you can trust him. It's easy to find out if someone respects you, by forgiving you for having minor points because of all your qualities on the other side of your scale. You want someone who commits himself, by saying «I Do», to trust and respect you until death separates you.
» Nelson Mandela was a great, inspiring leader because he loved everyone, inside and outside his country. His biggest quality was how he inspired us to solve our problems together, respecting our differences, trusting we all have the same goal of happiness, and committing himself to giving every individual the chance to do what she does best. Thanks to the love Nelson Mandela had for his country and its people, his Mandelacracy politics gave better results than any other political system. Agneta learnt her ideas about politics from Nelson Mandela and my books about leadership. She thinks love is a better style of leadership than the hate between left and right. Agneta is such a wonderful person because she can love someone like nobody else can. I know. She loves me. And I love her more than anything."
All this loving is getting more and more uncomfortable. Hold on. I know why I feel this way. I see where this is going: "And, after all this clear explanation, there was something you wanted to warn me about?"
"Agneta is still single. She still hasn't found what she's looking for. And then, one day, a man shows up. First, he offers to help me find my sister. He commits himself to protecting me. Even when a rapist puts a gun to his head, he keeps his promise. This man respects me, my ugliness, my sickness, and my paranoia. He behaves like a real gentleman on every occasion, he has an interesting job as a spy, he likes to play squash and pass time outdoors, he likes to cook…"
I don't want to hear this.
But Frieda goes on: "You are the perfect husband for Agneta. And she always gets what she wants. She's irresistible. She doesn't take «no» for an answer. As soon as she finds out what I found out about you in the last few days… she will ask you to marry her. That's what I want to warn you about. Be prepared. You're going to get the girl at the end of this story, and she's a sex bomb like there's no other on this planet. I hope you can handle it."
"I'm ugly."
"Agneta doesn't care. She closes her eyes when she's making love."
"I'm short."
"Agneta doesn't care. She likes it when her man looks up to her."
"I don't know how to dress."
"You'll marry a woman with excellent taste. Follow up her advice."
"How do you know she'll love me?"
"You're going to save her life from a gang of murderous kidnappers. If you think that's not enough, you can always try flowers, chocolates and the cinema. You will. Her special smile can make you do anything."
"I need to save the world."
"You can start by helping her to make Sweden a better place. She's going to be the next President. And you can still save the world on your free weekends."
"Don't I have a word in this process?"
"She will only accept two words: «I do»."
I have nothing more to say.
I'm not afraid.
Fear is a useless emotion here.
I'm not afraid of anything.
There's a better word to express my feelings.
A short word.
A simple word.
Panic.
* * *
What do I want?
I have four goals in life.
I want to grow as a person, which I achieve by improving my skills, my knowledge and my character. With a sex bomb like Agneta on my side, at least a certain part of me will grow frequently, and my skills as a lover will improve rapidly, thanks to intensive training.
I want to connect with other people, which I achieve by communicating with them, by sharing emotions and experiences, by being their mentor, and by learning from them. Forming part of the inner circle of the President of Sweden, I'll reach that goal in a way I could never dream of.
I want to contribute to something bigger than myself, which I achieve by saving the world. Or by saving Sweden, which is a good number two on such a list.
I want good health, both physically and mentally, which I achieve by exercising and eating healthy, by keeping the balance between my feelings and my intelligence, by being aware of the present moment and all the good things that come with it. Playing squash and being outdoors with Agneta, being on the side of an intelligent partner who will inspire me every day to get the best out of myself, and having access to her fantastic kitchen plus all the healthy food I've tried here lately… Also this fourth goal will be scored with a flying header.
And still, I have my doubts.
Is it true that we are only interested in the impossible and the things we don't have? Could I be happy with a wife like Agneta? Looking at her photo, my hormones start to rattle. I have no reason to doubt Frieda: Agneta is a charming and hard-working, intelligent woman with an excellent character.
And still, I have my doubts.
We have our differences. She's eight years older than I am. Is that a problem? I'm not sure.
She's 1 metre 84. I'm 1,67. Is that a problem?
She's a stunning beauty. When I'm on a holiday, I don't shave, avoiding having to stare at my ugly face in the mirror. Is that a problem?
The real problem is… I feel… inferior on the side of such a woman. I don't want to look up to somebody perfect. I want someone at my side who makes me feel comfortable.
I should not worry.
Agneta will have a word in this, and I'm pretty sure she won't fall in love with me.
And, apart from that: I have a job to do. The world is in danger and I'm the only one who's committed to saving it. I can't walk away from that. I don't want to walk away from that. I won't walk away from that. I committed myself to that task. Not even the sexiest woman in Sweden can make me break my promise. As a spy, I can't afford the luxury of a marriage with children, not even having a dog. I've made a choice, and this is the price I have to pay, my dear Agneta. I hope you can accept we're just going to be good friends, with some intense sessions of hot and steamy sex whenever I'm between missions.
And there's a third point on this list: since the start of this story, I had my doubts about Agneta, being kidnapped. The average life expectancy for a kidnapped victim is thirty-six hours. Agneta is missing for already more than a week. Kidnappers are, like every other criminal, self-employed businessmen. They want maximum profits from minimal efforts. They don't give free food and lodging to their guests; they want to get paid for their hospitality. Nobody, not her parents, not her sister and not (as far as we know) the Swedish government, has received a note with a desired amount of money to be left at a certain place so the kidnapped victim can be released in good health.
There are two options.
The first option is: Agneta is dead. End of story.
The second option (and my intuition tells me this is what really happened here) is: Stockholm Syndrome. They didn't kidnap Agneta for the economic value of her family; they didn't kidnapp her for the political value of her upcoming profession; she was simply kidnapped by a horny bastard who couldn't resist such a stunning Swedish sex bomb. Kris, the ugly travel agent who raped Frieda, would be a prototype of such a kidnapper. He would keep Agneta in some isolated place and use her as his sex slave for the rest of her life. And, for some strange psychological reason called Stockholm Syndrome, kidnapped women sometimes fall in love with their kidnappers, and they live happily ever after.
When I heard Agneta was missing, my first thought was: «who would harm such a gorgeous person?» Nobody would kill her. Not even the worst criminal would do such a thing. So, if Agneta isn't the victim of a (so far not yet discovered) mortal accident, Stockholm Syndrome looks like the only logical motive for her kidnapping. And that includes we might never find Agneta.
But I don't tell Frieda this, of course. Frieda has a lot on her own mind. She should get her own trauma out of her head. It would be foolish to add the continuous rape of her sister to the problems she already has. Frieda shouldn't worry about things she can't handle. She loves her sister. For me, Agneta is just a mission, somebody I don't even know. I'm much better qualified to handle this.
There's nothing left to handle.
We should give the case to the police so they can let it get cold. I should go back to saving the world, and Frieda should return to the clinic and find a better life.
We can eat a bite of dinner tonight, we can entertain ourselves tomorrow, playing a game of squash and finding out it's impossible to get close to the political leaders of Sweden, and then it's time to say goodbye.
I'm not looking forward to that.
I'm not looking forward to that at all.
How do I explain to #1, The Boss, that the promised 1-billion-krona case was a waste of time?