Gentlemen & Gangsters (2016): Season 1, Episode 4 - Kapitel IV - full transcript

CHAPTER VII

We're going to the beach.

Have a good one.

This story ends on a farm in Scania.

But it started in 1944,
at Zeverin's Engineering in Stockholm.

Or in 1961, at Gazell in The Old Town.

Or maybe in 1978,
in a boxing club at Hornstull.

Or maybe New Year's Eve of 1980,
at the hospital maternity ward.

That was also a beginning.

And there he was:

Morgan's son.



He would be called Gustav.

We'd waited for each other,
showing a concern

belonging to a love more mature than ours.

We were predestined victims

of someone strong saying "You need me".

I've never felt this free.

Isn't that absurd?

Absurd or not,

you must love a climate that produces
ice and women like that.

"IT COMES WITH THE JOB," I SAID.

We were left in peace for a while.

Maud with her baby
and me with my book.

I had to remove her information
about Sterner and his arms deals.

I didn't have a choice.



The Envoy got his "Fleur du mal"
in one of the chapters...

Hello there!

...and the publisher, Franz?n,
got what he paid for.

Happy birthday to you...

Gustav turned one year
the winter of the book's release.

No success without humiliation.

You'd better watch yourself!

I mean it!
You don't know what you're doing!

I don't know where you got this crap!

It's libel! Do you hear me?

What do you think Henry will say
when he sees this?

Stene Forman thought
I revealed too much.

And Maud took it worse.

She thought I didn't reveal enough.

It's a damned betrayal.

Okay, I know you had fun with
your jokes, goose dinners and girls.

That's not what we talked about,
or was it?

Considering what you could have done,
this is pathetic.

I don't understand.

They were going to leave us alone.

A NEW TIME

- What can I get you?
- Glass of red.

Cabernet? Syrah? Pinot?

Just any red wine. Whatever.

Excuse me. No smoking in here.

A double vodka.

- Hi, honey.
- Hi.

How are you?

I checked. A second-hand piano
gets you nothing.

No one wants these.

Take it to your house.

I don't think I have room for it.

No.

- Gustav?
- Yeah?

Hi. How's it going?

No, I'm at Mom's.
Nothing special

Bye.

- Was that Camilla?
- No. Someone else.

- What was it you wanted?
- No, forget it.

You go.

You wanted to say something.

We'll talk another time.

Okay.

Gustav!

Here. Mail these, please.

What's this?

Invitations to your party.

Oh, right. Thanks.

See you.

Here's the mail.

Will you be
picking up the children later?

Gustav?

- Hello there, Gus. How are you?
- Good, good.

Happy birthday. Drinks upstairs?

- Excuse me?
- On People's Square.

There's a mosque there.

Isn't that terrible?

- She's racist.
- I heard that, Gustav.

I am not a racist!

Hi there.

Well, happy birthday.

Thanks.

You look handsome.

- Hi.
- Hello.

I certainly won't wear a veil.

Why not? It might suit you.

It's only a matter of time
before the Dark Ages are back.

- Hi, Marianne.
- Hello, Klas.

- Klas, this is Camilla.
- Hi, I'm Klas.

My Dad sends his greetings.
He says he knows you.

Conny. Conny Lang.

Yes. I know Conny. How's he doing?

- Not that great.
- There you go.

Come over here, Camilla.
Help me with this.

I'm glad he couldn't make it.
He's as boring as she is.

Originals?

With things that never made the book.

About Dad?

Among other things.

Hey. How are you?

Good, I guess.

And you?

Good enough. What's happening later?

I mean...
it'd be good to have a chat.

We're thinking of going out.

I think I'll stick around here
and hang out.

- Okay.
- I think Mom expects that.

Aw, fuck.

Hi, old man.

Should we go in to the others?

Thank God. I'm exhausted.

I've missed you.

I don't like wine any more.

It tastes like sheet metal.

Is this how things are going to be?

This is how they are.

Is it really that bad?

No... Maybe not.

It could have been worse.

Cheers to that!

That manuscript.

Was it the one we worked on a while ago?

Was that silly? I figured the
statute of limitations had run out.

If Gustav asks questions,
don't tell him.

Do you want this?

- Will you stay until I am asleep?
- If you want.

Of course I do.

I don't know what it is.

Have I been in your way?

What do you mean?

You heard me.
Have I been in your way?

- I...haven't thought about that.
- Bullshit.

Haven't others stood in our way?

- Such as who?
- Who rolls those for you?

- I have a machine.
- Can I see it?

No.

It doesn't exist.

- It does.
- Then show it.

After you've answered my question.

No. You...

You have never stood in my way.

You are the way.

That you step on.

Not quite what I meant.

"Who's the third one,
walking beside you the whole time?

If I count, it's only you and me.

But when I look up
on the white road

there's...

there's always
someone else walking there."

Shit. There's nothing I can do.

We'll never get out of this.

It just keeps going.

What a bunch of guys.

Maybe it'll be you and me in the end.

Maud's sleeping. I was just leaving.

- Do you have to?
- I have a hotel room.

So?

I'm a married man.

Stay a while.

I want you to.

I never asked you to before.

But that was all I wanted,
way back when.

Recognize these?

I used to get them out and
play with them, very carefully.

Then I'd put them away again.

It was some strange idea I had.

I'll probably do the same with this.

Anyway, have one for the road.

I watched you earlier.

In your suit and tie.

It was like seeing Henry.

Mom says I play better.

Do you think he was good?

Really?

Yes. But he was best at storytelling.

We'd sit like this,
in the Horn Street apartment.

Wrapped up in blankets
because it was so cold.

Someone has to know
why he never came back.

Mom won't tell me anything.

- What about Stene Forman?
- Nobody knows.

The blackmailer is gone, right?

Didn't you stop asking?

I'll find out.

I'd advise you to let it go.

Shit.

I hate all this sneaking around.

Put that back.
It'll just make you stupid.

- No. Camilla's pregnant.
- I know.

Maud told me.

Congratulations.

Are you going to move in together?

Her dad doesn't like me.

Something's bothering him.

I can't figure it out.

Something happened,
but nobody's talking.

Mom doesn't care, and Conny
can't tell me anything.

He says, "Ask your godfather.

He's part of the inner circle."

I've told him
that you're my godfather.

I only know part of it.

Conny is pretty difficult.

I don't know where Henry is today.

But do you want to know
what happened to Stene Forman?

Really?

Yes.

Put that thing down
and I'll tell you.

Sorry, you can't smoke here.

A double vodka.

But he's had a bit of bad luck.

One more.

He ran a polling institute
at a shopping Centre.

I went there once.

Langbro Institute.

Yes, one moment.
Conny!

He has a couch that swallows things.
It's called Molok.

His job was to produce facts,
statistics, opinions.

Diagrams of the zeitgeist.

Haven't these invoices been paid?

No idea. Put them there.

The company's heyday was right
after the war.

When people still trusted
in the future and social engineering.

How the hell does this work?

This country was to be changed
from a class society into...

something else.

The company wasn't doing well,

and Conny was hands-on
in the wrong way.

I'll deposit your vacation pay.

He was alone, but still had his clients.

There is a change in legislation

that requires extra preparation.

People like Jansen, spin doctor
and gossip-monger at the ministry.

Criminals on trial
are threatening witnesses.

It's the classic tactic:

"I know where
your kids go to school."

And it still works.
People refuse to testify.

We need to tighten the law
so people can't get out of it.

It's a serious problem.

And a delicate one.

I want a "silent poll".

Low profile. For internal use.

The usual.

Right.

- Milk or sugar?
- No, neither.

This meant he was to hide
the question among trivial ones.

The TTT questions.

Television, Traffic and Tumble-dryers.

Things people have opinions about.

Then you can slip in
a question of conscience.

"In Sweden, it's a statutory duty
to bear witness in court."

"If called to court to testify

and you're threatened
by the accused

would you give in to the threats

inasmuch as you rate your personal safety

higher than your sense of duty?"

The question went to 1,000 citizens.

Even with a careful sample,

there will always be some
who don't answer.

Some of them are away.
Some refuse to answer at all.

A few shouldn't even be on your list.

- Langbro Institute.
- I'm going to die.

Erling. I want to talk to Erling.

- There's no Erling here.
- Just let me die first.

Then you can come.

Langbro or whatever you're called.

- Who am I speaking to?
- You know.

Tell Erling...

There's no one here by that name.

Then get the Envoy.

Tell him someone wants to talk
to the Envoy, he'll come running.

You sound sick.
Do you need assistance?

Typical Erling.

To never give up.

Listen. I don't know you, but I get
that you're afraid of some Erling.

Just let me die in peace.

Yes, I promise. You can die in peace.

You know where I am. The door's open.

The key's buried
on the Langerhan Islands.

Isn't that enough for Erling?

Is he sitting there, listening?

No.

So tell him.

Yes. I promise.
I'll give him the message.

People. The public.
The man in the street.

"You serve them.
And you make your living from them."

One misstep
and you end up on the outside.

Erling!

Erling!

Bring the tools!

I don't know if it was a noble sense
of empathy, or just curiosity.

But he had to do it.

- Going in?
- Yes, thanks.

Erling?

Erling?

My name is Conny.

We spoke on the phone.

Are you alone?

Yes. Alone.

Like Erling, then. A lone wolf.

I don't know that man, I swear.

- But you work for him.
- No.

I'm leaving.
Can I just have the survey?

I'll shoot.

This is a mistake.

You got a survey
because you're in a sample group.

Give me the survey
and we'll forget it.

Questions only Erling could write.

Those were my questions.

Who are you working for?

I can't tell you that.

No. Of course not.

Is he afraid to see
what he's done to me?

"In Sweden, it's a statutory duty

to testify in court.

If called to court to testify

and you're threatened by the accused,

would you give in to the threats

inasmuch as

you rate your personal safety
higher than your sense of duty?"

Only Erling...

could write something so boring.

Such bureaucratic language.

"Inasmuch".

It's my question.

Is he sick?

No.

No illness in the world
would stop him from coming here

to carve the key
out of my intestines.

I swallowed it.
Wrapped it in a piece of ham.

It's still there.

Giving off heavy metals.

It opens a safety deposit box

that nobody's touched
in twenty years.

Tell him that.

Twenty years.

Is summer over?

I hear leaves
falling from the trees.

I still don't understand
what this is all about.

Hasn't he told you about it?

The burned letter?

The burned letter?

Ask Erling.

Okay. I'll ask Erling.

About a letter.

The burned letter.

As we thought, then.

Still, a remarkable conclusion.

The truth is quite expensive.

Well, what would you do

if some tattooed guy
in a denim vest said:

"I know where your kids
go to school"?

Do you have kids?

Nope.

And sometimes, I'm happy about that.

It's tricky.

It'll take time
to fix the legislation.

Social mores are traditionally
something for the conservatives.

The election is next year.

They won't do anything.

- Which means what?
- For you, nothing.

I have other things for you. Soon.

Milk or sugar?

Neither.

Something strange happened.

I heard from someone
who got my survey.

A sick guy, rotting in an apartment.

There are many that nobody gets to.

Untouched by the system.

He's was very much
"touched by the system".

He was past his sell-by date.

- Cancer?
- No.

He had swallowed a key
about 20 years ago.

He sat in one of those recliners.

Looked like one of
Francis Bacon's popes.

Talked about someone
called Erling and some Envoy.

And the burned letter.

And where was this?

Here in town.

Where?

I can't say.

- Funny.
- What?

That so many freaks sort of

fall through the safety net.

GOVERNMENT OFFICES

Hi. Jansen here.

Hey, you know that old cleaner?

The Grafter.

That's right, the Envoy.

What's the deal there?

Oh, so he's still in. Okay.

Do you have a number?

- Langbro.
- This was brilliant.

But there are some comments
I need to ask about.

- Something not clear?
- No, no. It's crystal clear.

But still...

What does your evening look like?

You're in a rush all of a sudden.

No, I just had the evening open.

- Otherwise, I'm fully booked.
- Okay.

Good. See you then.

Jansen memorized the statistics
and knew them by heart.

Everything was "brilliant",

even Conny's bleak diagrams.

He wanted to know what computers
and programs Conny used.

I really like game.

As do I.

- Do you hunt?
- No, not at all.

Swedish hunting parties have the
highest age average in the world.

Oh yeah? I didn?t know that.

But this is reindeer. That's got
nothing to do with hunting.

Speaking of that...

speaking of old people...

I was thinking about that confused
guy who called, that pope guy.

- Not now. I'm eating!
- Did you call an ambulance?

You have to honor a person's
last wishes, don't you?

It's not common practice
to let people die at home, alone.

Even if that's what they want.

They just don't know their rights.

He knew his rights perfectly well.

Just a thought.
I have a conscience too.

Cheers.

...the numbers say they will go home
with someone else, 15-20%.

- Thank you.
- Yes, thanks.

So what do we do now?

- I think it's time to head home.
- Like hell.

Now that we're out,

let's have a drink.

I think we've become very old.

Vivi. Are you here?

- Evidently.
- Good to see you.

I'm heading home from the movies.

This is Conny.

- Hi.
- And this is Vivi.

Conny's doing a great job with us.

Vivi is a friend from...

never mind.

What did you see?

An old German thing at the Film Club.

"The Longing of Veronica Voss"

He's sharp.

I was going to see that myself.

I haven't been to the movies
in years.

So, you go to the movies, Conny?

Yes. Especially since the divorce.

I once wrote a term paper
on Fassbinder.

You did? So did I!

- Really?
- I rarely lie.

That is true.

Unusually true, coming from Jansen.

But he knew nothing of German films.

Jansen stood by, looking dour,
until he'd had enough and left.

He was done, but for Conny
it was a long night.

They're doing a club night at Berns.

Want to come along?

I haven't been there since
they closed the Red Room.

Oh hey. Conny!

- What are you on?
- I have no clue.

I've never felt better.

Do you have any...?

You can get some real quick.

Well, dammit.

So, you know Blazys.

You look insane.

Conny. Be careful with that stuff.

Hi. Out late?

I'll get to the point.

We need to get in contact
with that person.

Who?

The pope. In the recliner.

Well...

So, what do you say?

I know it goes against
your principles and ethics

to share that information.

But if I tell you that it touches
on matters of national security.

The burned letter?

Yes.

Yeah.

That explains it.

Last night's generosity.

Dinner and everything.

- I was under orders.
- Oh, shit.

No.

Confidentiality is sacred.

No one would ever know.

- Who has an interest in this?
- I can't say.

What could that letter be about?

Hardly about national security.

Not when it's twenty years old.

- Honor. Some big-wig's honor.
- Conny, come on!

What should I think?

I'm sacrificing my honor,
who's keeping his?

I can't give you more information.
But compensation.

Here.

One million crowns.

Almost. In used bills.

This is unusual, just so you know.

They have other methods, as well.

They?

Who is "they"?

Didn't you just say "we"?

The less you know about this,
the better.

Even I only know what I need to know.

They are not to be underestimated.

The Envoy?

The Grafter. An old cleaner.

And I swear, he isn't much fun.

And the woman? Vivi?

Is she also...?

What about her?

- Running into her was no accident.
- No.

Forget it.

- Forget that.
- Oh, shit.

Were there people here last night?

Damn you. Damn you!

- Conny...
- No!

I'll give you a day to think it over.

There's no point!

Just so you know!

There is no point!

There is no point in you trying.

CHAPTER VIII

WHAT HAPPENED TO STENE FORMAN

Stene Forman's fate
had been a well-kept secret...

had it not been for Conny.

A man of high moral principles,
conflicting with national interests.

He needed a rest,
and help was within reach.

A calling card from the underworld.

The big blue.

He should have taken it.

But he had a daughter.

- Conny Lang?
- Yes.

Erling?

They call me the Envoy.

We've got things to talk about.

May I have a glass of water?

It doesn't need to be cold.

Thanks.

Is that...?

Yes, that's my daughter.

What do dads know of daughters?

I have two myself.

In fact, you know one of them.

Vivianne.

You met her the other night.
With Jansen.

Vivi?

- Only she looked the part.
- What part?

Your type.

Like your old secretary, for example.

May I...?

Conny.

You're protecting
a notorious criminal.

A blackmailer of the worst kind.

A security risk,
wanted for many years.

This is about professional ethics.

- It differs from yours, clearly.
- I respect that.

But ethics are about exceptions.
That's what I'm asking for.

A tiny little exception.

It's nothing to you. To others,
it's a matter life and death.

- Who?
- I can't say, unfortunately.

No. And that's the point.

If I must sacrifice my honor,

I want to know who I am doing it for.

Inasmuch as I prefer free will,

we'll get no further
inasmuch as you are uninitiated.

If we continue,
you will become initiated.

And that has certain consequences.

- Such as?
- That you could be excluded.

What does that mean?

All in good time.

That person you met, the key man.
He's excluded.

His name is Stene Forman.

He was editor of a men's magazine
that was in some trouble.

He came across information
which he misused.

A few years ago, he was
as close as you are now.

I interrogated him.
I tried to reason with him.

Since he would not give in,
he had to be excluded.

I only do it to those
I can't handle.

A safety deposit box?

Where's the key?

I buried it.

Kill for peace.

Kill for peace.

The burned letter.

I was getting to that.

I am prohibited from providing you
with the sender's name or address.

It was a top secret letter
to be destroyed.

But it went missing and ended up
in the hands of this Stene Forman.

Fatefully, Forman had a thing with
a Munitions Inspectorate secretary.

She was married and
they would meet in her office.

The secretary was, and remained,
above suspicion.

A plain, married
but maybe jilted woman.

At work, irreproachable, but now...

I'll be back.

...infatuated, appreciated,
courted, visible.

There was big money to be made.

When we intervened,
he refused to return the letter.

And disappeared.

What did the letter say?

It was a business document

Like thousands of others.

Regarding arms exports.
Field howitzers, 35-kilometer range.

Business that can be
very complicated.

So it's about bribes.

Fake contracts, smuggling.

The technical circumstances
of this export, yes.

Weapons smuggling.

To by-pass our neutrality?

It's politics.
I don't make judgments.

Well then, who does?

The Munitions Inspectorate.

And they report
to the Prime Minister.

So that's the level it's on.

The burned letter connects a specific
Prime Minister

to a specific deal

in contravention of the law.

And you're about to be a grandfather.

If all goes well.

What do you know about that?

How do you know that?

How do you know that?!

Do not think that this knowledge
gives me any satisfaction.

Should I take that as a threat?

Should I take that as a threat?!

I do not want to taint you anymore.

Most people tend to see common sense.

He's probably dead by now.

What have I done with my glasses?

It's Molok. The sofa!

"Mona Fertens". Is that what it says?

How extraordinarily unimaginative...

Mona Fertens, Stene Forman.

I'd like to stab that thing.

You'll be hearing from me.

They mess with people's insides.

Rough operations.

Tear things apart. Cut them up.

Wear down their will to live.

They wreck people. Close them down.

I have met him myself.

I know what I'm talking about.

I've never felt so ill at ease.

He has blue eyes
and smells of the forest.

A double vodka.

Another one.

Yes?

May I take this seat?

Go ahead.

- Hello?
- Hello, it's Erling.

The document
is now in the proper hands.

And thank you for your cooperation.

And the money?

I was offered compensation.

That offer no longer applies.
Goodbye.

Was it the same with Dad?

I don't know.

What does a person want to know?

You have Maud.

She needs you now.

I'll also disappear soon.

I'll take the garbage on my way out.

REUNIONS

- Dad, you've got a phone call.
- Who is it?

Gustav.

Hi, Gustav. Has the baby arrived?

- Marianne?
- Hello!

Lovely to see you.

How are the children
and the animals and everything?

Thank you, they're all fine.

And you?

Well, things are what they are.

She'll be happy to see you.

She's been talking all day
about you coming by.

I have to get back to my sailor.

He needs feeding.

Give my regards to
the old telephone repair man.

You want to see this?

I see what I want to see.

- Are you in pain?
- Not right now.

I have morphine.

I just saw your mother.

Has she left?

She's heading home
to feed the sailor.

- Nice view.
- Yes.

I enjoy it immensely.

Let me put these in water.

How long can you stay?

As long as you like.

Are you leaving?

No, I just got here.

Can you forgive me?

For what?

Everything.

Everything went wrong from the start.

- Our pact still holds.
- Pact?

I never looked at it that way.

We were young.

You were so scared.

And Henry was a pain.

Maud, I'm not here
to go over all that again.

No. Let's talk about something else.

How is your wife? The kids?

They're all fine.

- No grandchildren on the way?
- No, not yet.

And your roses?

Excellent.

Fertilized and pruned?

Voil?.

You see.

You just start crying.

So, what is it
that you want me to forgive?

Tell me about Vienna.

December of '79.

Vienna in December of '79?

Okay, are you sure?

I was going to tell you,
but you didn't want to know.

You didn't want to hear it.

You already knew.

You were determined.

You were just about to give birth
and I...

I was a coward. For your sake.

- You didn't dare be free.
- No.

Me neither.

What did you do down there?

Do you really want to know?

There's your old friend.

Who?

Henry Morgan.

Here.

A bruised gentleman.

If I hadn't stepped in,
they would have beaten him to death.

They dance every night.

And they're happy.

Henry?

- Yes?
- Who did you dance with?

- It was the only way to survive.
- I know.

You. I danced with you.

- I let you down.
- I still love you.

You'll be free soon.

I don't want to be.

- You have to.
- What do I have to do?

Take care of your son.

You have to be there.

I'm here.

Has he gone?

- Yes.
- Good.

You go, too.

You are both equally useless.

You were hopeless, the two of you.

I ended up in the south to get away
from certain complicating factors.

But you can't escape.

You're always caught in the end.

Malou had tried to escape once.

She was happy in her toxin-free life.

For a few years or so.

Then came the Chernobyl disaster.

The wind from the east brought
radioactive waste over Norrland.

The land was contaminated with Cesium-134.

She couldn't take it.

She wrote a farewell letter
to her friends.

"It took five days
for the wind to turn.

I could tell from the clothesline

that it turned
into a westerly direction.

But it was too late.

Everything was ruined.

The fields that
were supposed to feed us.

The forest, with berries
and mushrooms.

Grazing lands for the wild animals.

You can't hear or smell anything.

But it's out there. Everywhere.

I know that the animals
can feel it.

A moose stood outside
the fence this morning.

He was still, unafraid.

I counted twelve points
on his antlers.

He just stood there looking at me,
at first reproachfully.

And then with pity.

As if he saw me as a primate
that could only inspire pity.

Maybe that's the way it is.

But I don't want to be
a part of this anymore.

I am sending this letter
to the people I love.

And I still love you.

I do not want any of you
to feel guilt.

And if you do anyway,
then put it to good use.

I can't take it anymore."

It probably wasn't coincidence
that I was reading those letters.

I wanted to be prepared.

This is something your old man
could do with his eyes closed.

I should be more angry at you
than at him.

I never met that bastard,
but you...

you came and went at will.

It's been fun every time.

Such a big deal.

Once you leave, she sits there
high...

and low and useless.

That's all complex stuff.

You are all so damned egocentric!

Did I scare you off, or what?

Don't ever think that.

You could have been my Dad
if you'd wanted to.

- Valium.
- Oxazepam.

- Did you get a haircut?
- Yes.

We're gathered today to
pay our last respects to Maud.

Big Shot is here.

"Who's the third one,
walking beside you the whole time?"

"Who's the third one,
walking beside you the whole time?

If I count, it's only you and me,
but when I look up on the white road

there's always
someone else walking there."

- What?
- Calm down, will you.

"Glides forward,
wearing a brown hood.

I don't know
if it's a man or a woman.

But who is on the other side?"

- Want some?
- No, thanks.

If you've kept away for this long,
why start now?

Church coffee, my ass.

When I get old, I want
the same medicine as those two.

You're already old.

Whatever.

Isn't there anything else to drink?

How are things?

It didn't work out.

I closed it down.

I'll... I'll take Bill with me.
He's getting annoying.

- Okay.
- Take care of yourself.

You too.

She was the only girl in my circle
who was worth anything.

She never grew old.

You should have got hitched.

There was no way.

Why? Because of Henry?

The idiot had been declared dead
for 20 years.

You knew he wasn't coming back.

He was stuck in some
correctional facility in Austria.

Rehabilitating upper class brats
who'd turned terrorist.

Right?

I was there.

You saw the bastard.

It was...

He got a new face.

They'd beaten him to a pulp

and built him a new one.

Sterner paid for everything,

room and board,
the operation, all of it.

I wouldn't be surprised
if he was here today.

With a new face.

That could be him, over there.

With his counterfeit lunch vouchers.

Henry!

Henry!

- Please, keep it down.
- Yeah, yeah.

Dipshit.

- Yup. Dipshit.
- He was a shit.

But he was fun.

Cheers to them.

Have you heard about
how he almost got shot?

During an attack in Paris.

EPILOGUE WITH ROSES

The shirt had been worn
by three men, in order:

Wilhelm Sterner, Henry Morgan, and me.

Maud had seen us wear it.

Maybe she'd had an image
of a man in such a shirt

and never really seen us wearing it,
but always someone else.

Hello.

Do you remember me?

Vienna, 1979.

I thought it best to arrive unannounced.

I just wanted a conversation.

Might I get a glass of water?

It doesn't need to be cold.

- Here you go.
- Thanks.

It went very well last time.

The book, I mean.

You seem to be doing well.

- Two, three children?
- Four.

Right, four.

I have two daughters.

One of them is in the business.

She was out with your friend
Conny, as I'm sure you know.

He mentioned a Vivi.

That's my daughter.

So here you are, writing.

"Roses and Resignation"

That sounds mature.

Sorry. You must be wondering what's
on my mind after so many years.

I've retired. Voluntarily.

I've devoted the summer to
cleaning up after myself, for once.

I can't say things will improve.

My replacements are young,
tough guys.

Digital types.

- So watch yourself.
- Did you get a gold watch?

You can't give a gold watch
to someone who's never existed.

The invisible cleaner,
who cleared up after other people.

A budget nobody will admit to.

Non-accounted line items.

From 12 sections in four departments.

You get no retirement party.

They may ask God for help.

But they won't thank the Devil
who does the work.

I've punished innocents
and helped swine.

No need to demonize me.

I wasn't planning on it.

You will.

When you see what you've won.

- Do you still mourn her?
- That's my personal business.

I want to emphasize,
whatever notions you have,

that your assertions

no longer constitute a threat.

Not even to me.

That's a guarantee.

Guarantee?
Those come with conditions.

They're gone.

No one who matters
cares what people like you think.

They once did, but not today.

You are free.

Unusually, you can handle freedom.

Don't waste it.

And your successors?

Those young, tough ones?
Do they guarantee it too?

Good. You've learned.

That's why I've brought some papers.

I've taken home all the files
to burn them.

Yours too, so you know.

That's a big bonfire.

Lots of moldy, damp papers to burn.

This letter has already been burned.

I made a copy, to make sure.

Maybe you'd like it?

The burned letter?

I would end up like Stene Forman.

I would be wary.

You've seen
what happens to those who aren't.

- Henry.
- For example.

- Is he...?
- Alive.

Under surveillance.

What does he look like?

Like before.

But younger, oddly enough.

Where is he?

As I said, under surveillance.

He's started reading.
Swedish newspapers.

He tears out articles.

The odd review.

Maud's obituary.

He's a participant.

Aren't you going to read it?

This is your only chance.

No, thank you. Not this time.

I'd love to see your garden
before I leave.

I wanted to be a gardener,
but I wasn't allowed to.

"You'll be an engineer,"
my father said.

You've got some space
in the red section.

I improved the strain myself.

Deep red. Hardy.

Remontant. Patented.

You've written about it before,
in "Gentlemen".

"We go down to a cellar
where nothing grows,

not even the flowers of evil."

Here you go.

"Fleur du mal".

If you want something,
you won't find me.

I won't even have a headstone.

- Who was that?
- Who?

- The man in the Volvo.
- Him?

The electricity guy?

He's been here a long time.
He arrived when we left.

He was from a power company.

He offered some deals.

It took a few days before I realized
what had happened.

I had planted that rose before,
in a book, in a poem.

It was proof of my obedience.

Now it was planted for real.

And I was free.

People had disappeared,
crimes gone unpunished.

A new order had been instated.

Circumstances made it possible for me
to return to events of 25 years back.

What I had to keep to myself then,

can be told now.

Nothing can stop me.

Not threats, fear...

Not even impossible love.