Read Online The Informer (Sabotage Group BB) by Steen Langstrup - Free Book Online Page A

neighbor and other small kids who have died in this part of the city the last couple of years. Dead infants are a common thing living in the slum. Poul-Erik doesn’t listen. He has gotten used to his mother’s strange moods. At least his father is far away in Germany. That has made Poul-Erik’s everyday life a bit easier the last few months. Now it is only at work where he gets beat on.
    “… you understand that?” She pokes him with a finger.
    “What?”
    “Are you even listening?”
    “Sure am.”
    “No, you’re not. I can tell. I’m your mother. I can read you like an open book!”
    “You can’t read at all, mum.”
    “Are you being cheeky?”
    “No, I’m not. Thanks for dinner.”
    “Oh, my.” She stares at him with her bloodshot and watery eyes. “You just hang in there, boy, hang in with that apprenticeship of yours, do you hear me? You are lucky they would even take someone like you. You’re a child of the slums. A ragtag. On top of that, you’re a whining piece of shit. Nobody will ever do anything for you. Do you understand what I’m saying? They’ll let you starve to death, no problem. Nobody is going to cry on your grave.”
    “I’ll get by.”
    “You just be happy you weren’t forced to go to Germany to work like your daddy was. Do you think he …” And again Poul-Erik shuts off. Now she will repeat the story about Poul-Erik’s dad—that honorable working man—who had to go all the way to Germany to work because he was unemployed and couldn’t provide for his family. The longer he is gone, the better a man he becomes.
    In the bedroom, the baby, little Henning, starts to cry.
    “Oh, goddammit!” She takes a pacifier made from an old cloth and dips it in schnapps, before pushing her way into the bedroom, to give the pacifier to little Henning.
    “Now, he’ll sleep the rest of the night,” she smiles, coming back into the kitchen. Poul-Erik puts the tin bowl away and goes into the living room to get ready for sleep himself. His bed is the four dining chairs pushed together with a pair of blankets on top. This has been his bed for the last ten years.
    “Do you want a tiny shot to sleep on?” she asks, pouring schnapps into two small, dirty glasses.
    “Yes,” he whispers, sneaking back into the kitchen.
    “You’ll be a man soon enough.” She laughs quietly to salute her own joke. “If you find a way to get your bicycle back, I won’t tell your old man. After all, you’re my little sweetheart. I’ll keep my mouth shut.”
    Poul-Erik takes the glass of schnapps and washes the hot fluid down his throat. “I’m not afraid of him.”
    She laughs even more. “You got to be kidding.”
    He lies down on the chairs and closes his eyes. Now he can hear the humming sound in his ear again. Sleep comes quickly, almost like an embrace. On the verge of sleep, he still hears his mother moving around in the kitchen. She is also getting ready for sleep. He knows the sounds. She is about to pee in the kitchen sink.

16
    “Indeed, indeed I tell you.” BB’s voice echoes through the empty church, as she quietly slips in the door, spotting him high on the pulpit. He doesn’t see her. “I am the good shepherd. The good shepherd gives his life for the sheep. He who is a hired hand, and not a shepherd, who doesn’t own the sheep, sees the wolf coming, leaves the sheep, and flees. The wolf snatches the sheep, and scatters them. The hired hand flees because he is a hired hand, and doesn’t care for the sheep.”
    She calmly moves down the church, trying to rub some warmth into her hands. There’s not a single cloud in the sky today, but it’s windy. The wind is coming in ice cold from the East. The church seems bigger in daylight. She unties her scarf and pulls it from her head.
    “So the Lord Jesus spoke according to the gospel of John. And he continued his speech: I am the good shepherd. I know my own, and I’m known by my own; even as the Father knows me, and I know the Father. I