Sohlberg and the Gift (23 page)

“But they’re quite different. Schizoaffective disorder is a mental condition that—”

“Let’s not bore our guest,” said Jorfald.

Sohlberg raised his hand. “Now . . . wait a minute . . . I’m sure you two will find that I have a grip on what’s real and unreal.”

“
We’ll
see,” said Dr. Jorfald with a grin. “Of course I’m only joking. But
we’re
glad that you are open to participating in our study . . . regardless of where it may lead.”

Dr. Nansen smoothly added:

“We believe that there’s a personality disorder that has to abound in every police department . . . and in other government agencies. . . . The paranoid personality disorder. With this psychiatric condition a person has long-term distrust and suspicion of others without suffering a full-blown psychotic disorder such as schizophrenia. People with the disorder are highly suspicious of other people. Thus they limit their social lives . . . sometimes to extremes. They often feel that they are in danger and constantly look for evidence to support their suspicions. A hallmark characteristic is their refusal to admit that their distrustfulness and suspicions are out of proportion to their environment.”

“Well now,” said Sohlberg. “You may be describing what makes a great detective.”

“Really? How interesting. I knew that Doktor Jorfald and I are on the right track. Tell me Chief Inspector . . . are you worried that other people have hidden motives?”

“Always.”

“Do you expect to be exploited by others?”

“Sometimes.”

“Unable to work well with others?”

“Sometimes.”

“Social isolation?”

“Sometimes.”

“Detachment?”

“No. I’m not Buddhist.”

“Funny,” she said without looking amused. “Any hostility?”

“Always.”

The two psychiatrists glanced at each other with knowing looks.

Sohlberg moved quickly to interrupt their secret telepathic session. “This is all interesting Doktors Nansen and Jorfald. But I’m more interested in the patient Håkon Krogvig.”

“
We
. . . have a confession Chief Inspector,” said Jorfald with a mischievous twinkle in his eye.

“A crime?”

“No. No. How funny. You see Chief Inspector . . . we’re not quite sure if Krogvig has the same delusional disorder as Ludvik Helland . . . or whether he’s got a schizotypal personality disorder.”

“I really have no idea what you’re talking about.”

“Let me try to explain,” said Dr. Nansen. “The schizotypal personality disorder is a mental health condition in which a person has trouble with relationships and disturbances in thought patterns and appearance and behavior. Unlike people with schizophrenia people with schizotypal personality disorder are not disconnected from reality and they rarely hallucinate.

“Indeed . . . we think that many if not most police officers have schizotypal personality disorder . . . which means a person who is uncomfortable in social situations . . . makes inappropriate displays of feelings . . . has no close friends . . . has odd behavior or appearance or speech . . . and odd beliefs or fantasies or preoccupations.”

Sohlberg laughed. “So that’s how you feel about law enforcement? . . . Sounds grim.”

“Not really,” said Jorfald. “Talk therapy or psychotherapy is usually the best treatment along with anti-psychotic medication in the more difficult cases. Of course social skills training can help some people cope with social situations.”

Sarcastic words were about to fly out of Sohlberg’s mouth when Dr. Nansen intervened. “Now gentlemen,” purred Dr. Nansen. “Please. Let’s not get into an argument.”

“Look,” said Sohlberg in his best no-nonsense voice. “I need to know if we have a deal.”

“What deal?” said Dr. Jorfald.

“You give me access to Ludvik Helland. Let me try to convince him to spy on Håkon Krogvig.”

Jorfald sighed. “Let’s suppose
we
did that Chief Inspector. But in order for Helland to spy on Krogvig
we’d
have to take Helland completely off his meds so he’s clear-headed. Let me be honest. Current pharmaceutical therapy basically leaves violent patients in a harmless zombie-like state.
We
hate it. But that’s all
we
can get from current drug treatments . . . there are
no
cures . . . just the
management
of symptoms. . . .
We
have no choice but to incapacitate these two men who’ve killed others.”

“I understand,” said Sohlberg.

Dr. Jorfald shook his head. “Do you? . . . There could be unforseen consequences. Ludvik Helland might become homicidal. Even suicidal.”

“But his homicidal rage has always been directed at his wife . . . and no one else . . . yes?”

“Correct. That’s why
we’re
going to accept your deal.”

“Excellent.”

“But you do understand that your part of the deal requires you to be interviewed by Doktor Nansen and her staff for two hours every week during a period of twelve months. Who knows? She may even need to interview you every other day for a whole year if it turns out that you have a lot of mental issues. Doktor Nansen must be able to get inside your mind. You must share your most intimate thoughts
and
memories with her.”

“But my name will never be revealed . . . right?”

“Yes. You are patient number nine. Nothing more. Nothing less. Do
we
have a deal Chief Inspector?”

“Yes.”

“Super!” said the giant with glee. “Now let’s go out to The Farm for you to meet Ludvik Helland.”

“The farm?”

“Yes.
We
operate a fifty-acre high-security ward a few miles north of here . . . on Herregårdsveien. You will come in our car since the patients do not like to see police cars. By the way . . . thanks for coming dressed in your civilian clothes. A police uniform would agitate the most violent of our patients.”

“Won’t Ludvik Helland be too drugged to see me?”

“Not today. I ordered his Thorazine and Dilantin and Risperdal to be withheld until
after
you meet with him”

“How did you know I’d take the deal?”

“I didn’t know. But . . . Doktor Nansen said you would.”

PART THREE: THE RABBIT HOLE

Insanity is doing the same thing over and over again and expecting different results.

— Albert Einstein

Our society is run by insane people for insane objectives. I think we're being run by maniacs for maniacal ends and I think I'm liable to be put away as insane for expressing that. That's what's insane about it.

— John Lennon

I myself spent nine years in an insane asylum and I never had the obsession of suicide, but I know that each conversation with a psychiatrist, every morning at the time of his visit, made me want to hang myself, realizing that I would not be able to cut his throat.

— Antonin Artaud

“But I don't want to go among mad people,” Alice remarked.

“Oh, you can't help that,” said the Cat: “we're all mad here. I'm mad. You're mad.”

“How do you know I'm mad?” said Alice.

“You must be,” said the Cat, “or you wouldn't have come here.”

—
Alice's Adventures in Wonderland
by Lewis Carroll (1865) [Ch. 6]

Sentence first—verdict afterwards.

—
Alice's Adventures in Wonderland
by Lewis Carroll (1865) [Ch. 12]

Chapter 10/Ti

WEDNESDAY AFTERNOON, DECEMBER 10,

OR EIGHT DAYS AFTER THE DAY

You don’t rightly understand the world. Either there’s no God or God dumped us here. He either left us behind with an I.O.U. that we might use to get to Heaven or there’s no God at all and nothing after we die. And both them reasons are why life on earth ain’t worth a thing. Absolutely nothing. A big fat zero. The life of a cockroach or a fly or a flea is the same as the life of a man or woman or child. Evolution says that. Yessiree. Evolution.

Evolution.

Yessiree. Survival of the fittest. Darwin and all that evolution jazz. You see I am a Darwinist. Yessiree.

Darwin. What’s that dead guy got to do with anything nowadays.

He’s dead but they teach him in school. Don’t they.

Yes.

Thanks to Darwin I am. Yes I am. I am. Thanks to Darwin I am proof of the survival of the fittest. I love Darwin. I used to go hunting and fishing with my Pa and he said only the fittest survive. Pa never finished high school but he said what Darwin said.

What they say.

The top of the food chain rules everything underneath. In business the rich rule. In school the smart rule. That’s life. That’s Darwin. I mean why can’t I enjoy some nice juicy piece of fourteen year old girl-meat or some delicious five year old boy-toy. If I can capture them and do with them as I please then survival of the fittest means that I am right to do this. Why you ain’t lived until you bite and slice through those soft pink—

Stop. I just ate lunch. I swear I will vomit all over you if you keep up this disgusting yap about you killing kids.

Kids. They ain’t nothing but young meat. Tender young meat. Bottom of the food chain if you know what I mean.

I ain’t got no idea. That ain’t my sickness.

Sickness. It ain’t no different than when someone has something you ain’t got but want. Why should someone have twenty dollars or a nice car when they got what I want and they can’t fight me off. Survival of the fittest is what turns the world. Darwin says only the strong survive. That is why I am entitled to take what I want. Man or boy. Woman or girl. Adult or baby.

They are people. Humans.

So what. Don’t you see you are just like the monkey. We are all the same. Humans are just like apes and cockroaches and flies and worms. We all come from the mud and the water and a little lightning. We come from the fish and the monkey and the gorilla and we’re all the same thing. Kill a fly. Kill a cockroach. It’s the exact same thing as when you kill a man or woman or child. No different. That’s Darwin. That’s evolution. That’s survival of the fittest. Humans ain’t nothing but a bunch of recycleable protein and fat and chemicals.

~ ~ ~

Jorfald drove his Range Rover with Sohlberg in the back and Bergitta Nansen in the front passenger seat. They left behind the Søndre Oslo Distriktspsykiatriske Senter and its unfortunate patients. Sohlberg was glad to have ended the chilling discussions about psychosis and insanity. The talks reminded him of the thin line between sanity and insanity and how easy it is to slip from reality into the distorted dimensions of mental illness.