The Double Silence (Andas Knutas 7)

water. Just so you know.’
    She and her fellow actor disappeared out to the veranda facing the sea. A crew member rushed to take them some water. It was important to keep the star in a good mood. She was a temperamental diva, and on more than one occasion she had simply walked out, leaving the whole film crew in the lurch, because she’d lost patience and didn’t get her own way.
    Sam Dahlberg refused to be deterred. He could feel in his gut that this movie was going to be good. Really good. That was why he didn’t want to take any risks. Retakes were necessary. He and the cinematographer had agreed to make sure that they had enough footage when they went to the editing room.
    Sam quickly finished off a bottle of mineral water. In spite of the heavy downpour, it was damned hot. The crew relaxed, chatting to each other. One person ran to the toilet; another went out for a smoke. Everybody knew that the break would last a few minutes.
    When Sam once again took his seat in the director’s chair, the effect was immediate.
    ‘OK, let’s do it again,’ shouted the director’s assistant.
    The hum of voices stopped at once. Everyone turned to look at Sam, then at each other. Their posture changed from relaxed to alert, their expressions attentive. An air of concentration filled the set. Sam looked at the people around him. It was like a dream play every time. The actors, the script, the cinematographer, and the rest of the film crew: everyone with an important part to play in completing the scene. He loved it, the way everybody joined forces in one intense moment. There was something magical about it. And an unpredictability. It was impossible to tell what might happen. Often something unexpected would occur, no matter how well he planned the production, going through the script in great detail with everyone involved, spending weeks in advance with the cinematographer and checking out all the film locations. He had to know how the light fell at various times of the day, what sounds they couldcount on hearing, how the site would function in practice for everyone involved. He liked to be well prepared. Only then was there room for spontaneity. Sam Dahlberg had spent years learning these techniques. He loved his job. For him, it was the very heart of his life, giving him the space to breathe. He surveyed the set one last time. Everything was ready. A giddy feeling filled his stomach; everyone was awaiting his signal. All of these people. They were waiting for him and no one else. He cast a quick glance at his assistant director.
    ‘Quiet. Rolling. Camera.’
    The same scene was repeated. In Julia Berger’s defence, it had to be said that even though she might be feeling annoyed, she gave her all every time the cameras rolled – no matter now many takes it took. He admired her professionalism. When they finished the scene, everyone waited in tense silence. Now Sam had everyone’s attention. He hid his face behind a handkerchief and wiped away both the sweat and a few tears that had trickled from his eyes. Then he looked at his colleagues and his face broke into a happy grin.
    ‘Bloody good job. I think, by God, that we’ve just done the last take on the film. Just a second.’
    He motioned for the cinematographer, and together they watched the scene on the monitor, accompanied by some indistinct murmuring. Then they nodded and slapped each other on the back. Everyone waited tensely. Sam raised his eyes.
    ‘I think we’ve made a movie here.’
    A grateful cheer rose from the set. The lead actors, who had just been involved in a fight, embraced each other a bit longer than might be considered purely professional, if anyone from the film crew had bothered to notice. But everybody was busy congratulating each other, hugging and patting one another on the back.
    ‘Unbelievable,’ exclaimed Sam happily. ‘That’s a wrap. Two months of filming are over. You’ve all been amazing. Now it’s time to celebrate.’

HÅKAN EK LEFT the office early on that Friday afternoon. He had five weeks of holiday ahead of him. He couldn’t remember when he’d been away from his job for so many weeks in a row. If ever. He enjoyed his work as the sales manager for a large electronics company in Visby, but now he felt he needed a holiday.
    His mobile beeped before he’d even left the car park. A message from Klara.
Phone me
. He frowned. What now? His daughter from his first marriage was his only real worry. She was a restless