Chereads / The Swedish Sex Bomb / Chapter 16 - 16. The Power Of Love

Chapter 16 - 16. The Power Of Love

At the end of the road to the end of the world, there is a small but sturdy cabin, made of unpainted wood. I park the car in front of it. As I turn the engine off, a cry stops the blood in my veins: a woman is in danger, howling for help. The sound gets stronger. The abuse gets worse. She's in extreme pain, possibly being tortured by the evil serial killer that brought her here, to this faraway place, to practise his hobby without being disturbed. With everyone, but not with me. I look around. There's a pile of firewood, neatly cut. I jump out of the car, grab one of the baseball bats that Mother Nature prepared for me, and go back to the cabin. That front door looks sturdy, strong, and massive. Of course, it's locked. I'll need to run full speed to break it open with my shoulder. That will hurt. Another cry: "OOOOOOOHHHHHH!" I grab the piece of wood with both hands and prepare myself for the run-up.

Frieda steps in the way. She puts a finger on her lips and holds me back with a sign of her other hand. She whispers: "Hush. Give the girl a break. I guess we better take a walk before we knock on the door."

She nuzzles my hand, telling me to drop the stick. Then, she takes my hand and together we walk back on the dirt road.

"That was my sister's voice. I was right. She's here. Oh, I'm so glad we've found her… Did you figure it out? The house of the father?"

The father? Oh, yes, of course, the Father.

"The church where we stopped? Is that the House of the Father?"

"That's what its name means. Basically, it is the church of my grandfather. My mother's mother was from this village. When she married my grandfather, they celebrated their wedding in that church. My father thought it was a nice tradition; in front of that church, he asked my mother to marry him, and when she said «yes», they decided to celebrate the wedding at the same place where my father's parents married, here, in the little church of Raja-Joosepin, the House of the Father.

» My sister left without her mobile phone. I could only think of one reason: she didn't want to be found. Oh, I'm so happy for her. I knew everything would be alright. That was our mistake, Benny. We were so focused on all those bad things that could have happened to her, we were so much influenced by all the bad news around us, that we were no longer capable of thinking of what could be the only logical explanation. She went to San José, as you called it."

"So that shouting, those cries of pain we've just heard…"

"Can't you tell the difference between a real orgasm and a faked one, Benny? There is a lot you've got to learn about women. I asked the priest of the church if he had married my sister a few days ago. He said he did. Then I asked him if he knew where she had gone for her honeymoon. He gave me the address of this cabin. Only our timing was a little… impolite."

She picks my spiPhone out of my pocket to check the time and says: "I guess they're done with the afterplay by now. If we wait longer, they might have started the next round."

A little later, we knock on the door. Agneta opens, unable to hide her glorious curves in a short bathrobe, a towel draped around her wet long blond hair: "Frieda! What a surprise! How did you find me here?"

The two sisters hug, kiss, and are excited to see each other. They have a lot of things to talk about, which makes me feel superfluous. My mission is over. I go back to the car to see if there are new messages from my boss or one of my colleagues, errands to run, shopping to do, or other important matters to save the world. My spiPhone doesn't respond. There is no signal here at the end of the world. I link up to the satellite, but we're too far north and the trees disturb the signal.

"Benny! Where do you think you're going? Don't you want to meet my sister Agneta?"

I go back to the cabin for the social obligations: "Pleased to meet you, ma'am. I've heard a lot about you. All good things, of course. May I congratulate you on your wedding?"

Agneta gives me a fantastic smile and two kisses. She really is a knockout. I've never seen anyone so beautiful, but her strongest attraction is her personality: she's warm, friendly, and modest. She makes us feel at home. She presents her freshly wedded and showered husband to us: "This is Björn, my husband. We fell in love with each other on Valentine's day and we haven't done a lot of talking since, except for the words «I Do». I'm so sick and tired of doing everything for others all the time, Frieda. I wanted a life of my own, and Björn feels the same; we want to start a family and have lots of babies. Swedish politics doesn't satisfy me as Björn does. I made my choice, and we disappeared. We married as soon as we reached the church here in Raja-Joosepin. It's sort of tradition in our family to marry here. Wouldn't you like something? Coffee? Beer?"

"We didn't come here for the wedding cake, ma'am. We came uninvited. Your sister was worried about you, but we've solved that problem now. We need to get going again. It's a long way back to Stockholm. I see it's only a small cabin, and we don't want to sleep between the two of you."

Björn doesn't want to hear «no» for an answer: "You're not going anywhere until after lunch."

With one look, Frieda and I agree we should go. Frieda says: "Thanks for the invitation, but we do need to go. Benny has to get back to work and you, Björn, you've got a job too: you've got to satisfy the most wanted woman in Sweden and perhaps in the world… She just told me she wants babies, lots of babies…"

We say goodbye, get in the car, and drive back along the dirt road.

"I hope you're satisfied now. The rapist is caught, the political crisis is solved, and your sister is more than happy. My mission is over. I'll take you back to Stockholm and then, finally, I can return to work…"

Work… It feels like going back to school after graduating.

A long and deep sigh escapes from the bottom of my heart.

"You don't want to go back to work, do you?", Frieda says.

For a while, I drive on, with my mind more on Frieda's question than on the road. She's right. All my life, I wanted to be a spy and now…

"I don't know. I guess everyone has a little motivational crisis now and then, going to work. Most have it on Monday morning. I have it now, on a Sunday afternoon. I shouldn't complain, just follow orders, but it feels wrong. My dream was to help people and make the world a better place. As a spy, I'm doing the opposite. My brain tells me to listen to my boss and do what he tells me, but my heart tells me to walk away and leave this spy world behind me. My heart doesn't give me an alternative. What can I do? Where do I go to? I know too many secrets… They wouldn't allow me to retire. They would send someone to retire me…"

Or…

Instead of thinking it over, I think aloud. I don't know why. I shouldn't take the risk to share a secret like this with Frieda, but I'd like to hear what she thinks, I want to know her opinion, to save me from doing something stupid: "I could ask Lisbeth to take my place. All I have to do is stay on the job until she's ready…"

"Lisbeth?"

"I promised her a way out of her misery. If she keeps her part of the promise and kicks the habit, she can be ready in a few months to take over my job. It would give me the chance to walk away without anybody knowing about it. After all, I entered the LSD more or less the same way, and nobody ever found out."

"Where would you go to? What would you do? How would you live?"

I look at the snowy landscape: "I could go to the other end of the world. There are lots of small islands in the Pacific. No phone, no Internet, no newspapers, no TV… I have some savings. I can buy a small house… Perhaps I'd buy a boat and organize fishing trips for tourists… I don't need much."

"Are you going there alone? It will be lonely."

"It will be lonely… I have been thinking about a woman I've met. I like to be with her. But it's useless to ask her. A woman wants to have coffee with friends, she likes to go shopping and visit the hairdresser, and perhaps she would like to have children. Kids need to go to school or to the doctor, and they need friends to play with… Nothing of that is available at the end of the world. The life of a spy is a lonely life. It's the price I have to pay for all the adventures I had."

"Someone told me not to tell him what he was thinking but ask him what he was thinking. If you don't ask her, you will never get an answer. Do you trust her? Do you trust anybody? Or are a few years in the spy business enough to make you paranoid for the rest of your life?"

I don't know what to say.

Frieda does: "Do you trust me? I would never tell your secrets to anyone. I trust you, and I don't even know your real name."

"I didn't tell you my name to protect you."

"Oh, so that's the reason. You don't mind dragging me around while you're fighting armed rapists, armed bodyguards, and a complete gang of violent terrorists. You have no moral objection to leaving me alone, unprotected, trusting I will survive when you go back to work. But you don't trust me enough to tell me your real name?"

Trust works both ways. Trust is a «Show, Don't Tell» process. I told her I trusted her, but I keep hiding my secrets from her. Frieda's right. She deserves better.

"I trust you. I trust you to keep my secrets. My name is [this information is classified, to prevent innocent people from getting into trouble. Frieda is the only one who hears my real name, where I'm from, who my family is, etcetera]. I would love to tell you the rest of my story too, but…"

"But you have to go, save the world, and drop me off at home, so I can have a normal life."

"You don't understand. I don't have a choice."

"You always have a choice. Rephrase the question."

I take a deep breath: "All my life, I wanted to be a spy. I wanted to do something good for others and save the world. But now, I found out, all this time I've been doing the wrong thing. Instead of killing Dr Evil, I've been working for him. Dr Evil is winning the war between Good and Bad. I can't kill him and I can't escape him. I can't change Dr Evil either. All I can change is myself. The question is: should I keep on working for the forces that try to destroy humanity? Should I try to fight them, alone? Me against the rest of the world? Or should I just run away to the end of the world and leave the future of the world in the hands of others?"

"What keeps you from going on with your work?"

"My mother. My parents. They taught me selfish animal behaviour is wrong. But the rest of the world tells me all they want is to be selfish. The majority always wins."

"So the choice is between adapting to the situation, fighting, and fly-and-ignore?"

"That's indeed the summary of the problem. And I don't like either of the options: I can't win the fight, I don't think I'm able to adapt to working as a spy anymore, and I'm not looking forward either to running and hiding forever in a useless, lonely life."

Frieda shakes her dark purple-red curls, to express her disbelief about so much ignorance: "You men can't stop thinking two-dimensional, can you? You used to have a dream to save the world, and now, suddenly, you can't decide between three options because each one of them means you have to give up your dream.

» What happened to option four? Who gave you the idea you'll be useless at the end of the world? If you surrender, Dr Evil wins. If you walk away, Dr Evil wins too. So? You should keep on fighting, in a different way, from a different location and… together with someone you trust. You don't have to do this alone. I could help you. You followed me to the end of my world, to help me. I could do the same for you. That world you're trying to save, it's my world too."

"You don't understand, Frieda. You're smart, gentle and caring, and you're nice company as well, but you're a girl from the fourth floor, and I'm a boy from the first floor… With your excellent education, you can get any job you want, and with your beauty and your amazing character, you can get any man you want. You can have a much better life without me."

"No, YOU don't understand. The question was about having a choice. The question that gives access to option four is: would you like me to be part of your dream? But I understand that a man of your calibre can get any woman he likes. You're not interested in a complicated girl with scars on her soul."

I stop the car.

In front of the little church.

The House of the Father.

I take a deep breath.

That was not the answer I expected, but…

It was the missing information I needed to take the most important decision in my life. I have that information now. Frieda wants to go to the end of the world with me. She leaves me with two options. My first choice would be to give her a list of arguments for why she will never be happy with me. That would be… well… about the most stupid thing I could do. I know her. She's a strong woman. The second option is… to accept the offer. My brain says «no». My heart shouts «YES!»

"You're a fascinating woman, Frieda. I knew that from the moment we first met, and you confirmed it every day, as I got to know you better. I followed you to one end of the world, and you would make me the happiest man ever if you'd go with me to the other end. Frieda Larsson… Do you want to marry me?"

"Now? Here?"

"I thought it was tradition in your family…"

"I have to think about it. Okay?"

"Okay. Please. Take your time. I just told you the top-secret information about the time it will take somebody else to take my place. If you need more time, I will be patient and wait."

"And you want to give up saving the world?"

"I want to give up saving the world to be with you."

"Don't be ridiculous. I like you for who you are. I like you because you don't care you are the only one on this planet who wants to save the world. I don't want you to stop being who you like to be, as that's what I like about you. I don't want you to give up saving the world. I want you to give up being the only one who wants to save the world. I want us to save the world together. And that's the question you answer with «I do» when we're standing in front of that altar. We're close to the end of the world here. I want you to make me feel safe instead of letting me fall over the edge."

"But…"

"No but. Do you expect me to wait for you with dinner at home while you're having all those awesome adventures? Forget it. I want to marry you, but I have one condition: we're going to save the world together, or die in the attempt. What is hereon your answer?"

"But… I can't agree with that. This world-saving business is serious and dangerous stuff. It's not like those cheap fiction novels… I don't want you to get hurt. I don't want you to get killed. I don't want to lose you…"

"Oh, so that's the problem. Mister Spy himself may take a bullet for me and leave me behind as a mourning widow for the rest of my life, but I'm not allowed to treat him the same way? I thought you treated women as equals. We're into this together, or you won't get my «I do» in return for yours. And although you never followed the marriage procedure before, I hope you do realise it's always the woman who has the final word here. Do you?"

I do, but I do also try to have a final word myself: "It's not about risk or courage, dear. It's about skills and knowledge. It's about years of training and study. It's about shooting the balls off of a fly at a hundred metres, and your eyes are just not sharp enough."

"Have you looked into my eyes lately?"

I did. The blue eye is as beautiful as the green eye. But that was not what we were talking about.

"It's about kicking the criminal in the balls and your boots just aren't big enough."

"Do you have any imagination about what I can do with a man's balls by using my hands? Not to speak of what I can do—"

I do have imagination, enough to make me surrender and lose this battle, but I'm a spy, trained to never give up: "It's about chasing bad guys, and on those high heels of yours, your top speed just isn't high enough."

Frieda steps out of the car, walks slowly towards the entrance of the church and says: "When a guy looks at me, and I turn around, like this, and I tell him to give me a hand, and I slap my butt like this… he won't run away; he'll come running towards me, as fast as he can."

Rostov! Every bullet I shoot backfires. But I don't want to lose this. Frieda is worth fighting for: "You have to seduce beautiful females to get information, and your smile just isn't sexy enough…"

Rostov! I know that's a lie. Her smile is exactly why I love her so much, why I want to keep her out of danger, why I'd take a bullet for her, and why I'd want to give up saving the world. It's a lie; I know it and Frieda knows it too. She blows away my last stronghold like a Swedish blizzard plays with a single snowflake, by giving me a smile that makes global warming feel like the Ice Age (it's one of her average smiles).

"Do you think my smile isn't good enough to be a spy? One of my minor smiles can turn supermodel Camilla L. into a lesbian. Despite all your training, my smile is a far stronger weapon than yours. Spies seduce men to get secret information. According to the statistics, the most powerful secrets are in the hands of men. Next time when you need to seduce a man for secret information, you better leave it to me. Are you done now with your silly arguments? A woman always has the final word. If you want to marry me, you better get used to it. If you can't accept my superiority at saving the world, you're free to refuse the marriage mission. I have only one question for you: Do you trust me?"

"I do."

"Then shut up and lead me to that altar. One man can't save the world, Max. We have to do it together, or die in the attempt. Trust works both ways. There is a difference between having sex and making love. Love is trust. Love is respect. Love is commitment. Did your animal instincts of fear and lust decide to marry me? Is it my female figure and my sexy smile that made you change your mind? Because in that case, forget about the project; a mistreated girl like me will not open up herself during her wedding night; she's been through so much pain that you have to accept a sexless marriage…"

"No, it's not like that. A sexless marriage is fine. All I want is to keep you safe. The world is a jungle, you know…"

"And why is the world a jungle? Why do all those people fight and hate each other like selfish, horny animals that are never satisfied and think they're better than everybody else? Because they make war instead of love. If you trust me enough to marry me, I promise to teach you a whole new way to save the world, something that can only be done together… But you'll have to marry me first. I'm a decent lady and not one of those cheap bitches that hang around those cheap motels."

What can I say? A woman always has the final word. And… she's right too: this story of violence and bloodshed has taken far too long already, seven boring books, over half a million words, standing for over half a million years in which humanity was gifted with intelligence but refused to use it to control our animal instincts. It's time to end that story and start a new one. It's time to heal the open veins we inflicted on others. It's time to say «I am sorry». It's time to say «I love you». It's time to stop talking and start acting.

"It's time to say «I do»."

* * *

"And so we are gathered here, the three of us, to—"

BANG!

BANG!

"Rostov!"

The two fighters that break the sound barrier just above the little old church make the old priest drop the book from his hands. I didn't expect this sudden interruption either. I don't have anything in my hands that I can drop, but I couldn't avoid the swear word, dropping from my mouth.

I pick up the heavy book from the floor and hand it over to the priest. He looks at me with an angry eye: "Purge your soul, my son. Thou should not blaspheme in a church."

"I'm sorry, Father. It was not a swear word. It's the name of a Russian town. When an unexpected disaster happens, I always think of that town."

"I would prefer it if you'd control your language."

"Me too, Father. I'm sorry. It's just… I'm a little nervous. This is like an energy, rushing and rushing inside of me. Dismantling atomic bombs or arresting notorious criminals is something I do every day, but getting married… For me, it's the first time, and I want to do it right."

The old priest forgives me. He has to. It's his profession. He finds the page where he was before the interruption, and starts again: "Dearly beloved. And so we are gathered here, the three of us, to…"

BANG!

"Róstov!"

This time there's just one bang, and it's not as loud as the earlier two, but the visual effects add to the experience of surprise: a force from above dumped heaven upon our heads, and heaven is made of good quality oak wood with some old-fashioned red roof tiles. With my devoted head bowed, I look through my eyelashes and the drizzle of splinters to meet the angry eyes of the old priest. Forgiveness is one thing, but even the patience of this churchman has its 'best before' date.

Frieda gives me a poke with her elbow. When I look at her, she points up, to the High Powers that fell from the sky to witness our wedding. The voice of the High Powers sounds loud and clear through the little church: "That went well, don't you think?"

I look up.

"ROSTOV!"

"Hi, Lux. When chips fall down, I'll be around."

"What are you doing here?"

"Hanging around. Aren't you going to introduce me to your friends?"

The three of us look up, to see Rostov looking down on us, hanging on the thin lines of a parachute that covers the hole in the roof that broke his skyfall.

"Frieda, Father, this is Rostov, my best friend. Rostov, this is Frieda, the woman I'm trying to marry today, between interruptions. It's the first time we marry each other. We do our best, but can't expect it to go perfectly. This is Father Haitamaki who's helping with the intent."

Rostov shows his stupid grin: "That's what we thought. How can you marry without your best man present? What kind of friend are you? I postpone my marriage because I want you to be there, but I expect you to do the same for your friend. Is that not what friendship is all about? That's what you've told me, by the way."

"I know, Rostov, and I'm sorry. This was all a little… unexpected. But you're here and I'm really glad to see you. Let me embrace you."

Rostov opens the harness of the parachute and drops down on top of me, from 3 metres high, expecting me to catch him, 110 kilos heavy and 1,85 metres tall, just a little too much to stay put. As we roll over on the ground, the door of the little church opens, and a woman enters: "Hi Lux. Long time no see."

Rostov gets up and grins: "Hi, hon. We're right on time. You haven't missed a thing. Did you bring the flowers?"

The old priest has taken this post because he wanted a quiet life. He is not trained for this. He sits down, lifts his hands to his boss in a hopeless gesture, and puts his head in his hands to weep until everything returns to some normality.

Katja takes the initiative. She walks over to Frieda, kisses her on both cheeks and says: "Please to meet you, dear. Welcome to the family. Your husband calls me Katja. Not my real name, but fine for the occasion. Can you give me a hand? We have to clean up this mess the boys made. A girl wants to marry in good conditions, not on the scene of a Hollywood disaster movie."

Rostov adds: "I'm good with disaster movies, by the way."

I correct him: "You ARE a disaster movie, Rostov. How did you find me?"

Katja hands out brooms, brushes, dustbins and rubbish bags while Frieda disappears and returns with a bucket of hot, soapy water and a mop. Whilst the four of us clean up the place, Rostov explains: "Yesterday, Katja finally agreed to marry me. We needed to pick a date and a place for the wedding. For me, that's no problem: anywhere anytime is fine. But she has to work, and we had to wait for a day without a global crisis so she could keep the afternoon free.

» Also, I wanted you, my best friend, to be my best man. You're hard to find, Lux. The only way to find you is to track the signal of your spiPhone. Only four people on this planet have access to your location. Fortunately, my dearest is one of them. When she found out where you were, there was only one reason why you could be here, because there is nothing else here but one little church and a hardly used frontier between Sweden and Finland.

» We decided that two plus two might easily be four, and we took the afternoon off to be present. Katja knows a man at the Kremlin who knows a woman at the airport, and that woman knew the man who schedules the fighters' training manoeuvres, so all we had to do was get in, close our eyes, and wait until our pilots shot us out of the plane when we were above this place.

» For me, it was the first time. That's how I ended up on the roof instead of on the ground in front of the door, but after this, things can only get better. Are you giving discounts on double marriages, Father? Do you accept Russian credit cards?"

Rostov takes out the rubbish bags. Katja makes a phone call, using the church's landline, to a Finnish handyman who promises to come and finish the job, the roof in this case. Finally, we can continue with the ceremony.

"Dearly beloved. We're here with the three of us…"

"The five of us."

"Rostov! Let the man speak. He's a little nervous. For him, it's the first time he has to do a double wedding. He wants to do it right the first time."

"I was just trying to help."

Katja slaps Rostov on the back of his head and the priest carries on with his speech: "Dearly beloved. Today we're gathered here to join in holy matrimony…"

The rest of the operation goes smoothly. Rostov had even thought of bringing rings, four toys with a blue light flashing in the coloured plastic 'stone' (he had bought them in a little bric-a-brac for 10 rubles each). It helps me to lose my nerves, I mean, my nervousness. If you have your wife standing next to you, your best friend on the other side, and the best secret agent of the LSD close by, a man should feel secure. Everything will work out fine. Well, almost everything. When the priest speaks the final words: "And now you may kiss the bride…", the nervousness returns. For me, it's the first time I'm going to kiss my wife. I want to do it right. But when I feel her hands on my shoulders, when I see her smile, when I taste her lips…