When they got out of the cab, Nor plucked the cigarette from Jørn's mouth. Jørn seemed not to notice.
"The Twin doesn't like it when other people smoke in his place." He then placed the cigarette in his own mouth and lit it, inhaling briefly and exhaling as he spoke. "After you." He gestured down an alley.
Jørn looked at the deserted, cold-looking alley, then looked at Nor, wondering if there was no dinner, no meeting. If Nor might simply stab him here and then leave him to die.
"The back entrance," Nor encouraged. Jørn looked at Nor eagerly as the taxi took off.
"Damn," Jørn mumbled to himself as he walked down the alley. "Oh, damn." Then, speaking more loudly, "Look, my word is good. What can I say to the Twin so that he sees my word is good?"
Nor looked at Jørn with an earnest shock and he barked a harsh laugh.
"Your word is damned, my boy," he said in singsong, sucking in on the cigarette. He was starting to relax now that he had Jørn rounded up for Levi, but Jørn was finally starting to get properly fearful. "Look, everything's going to be fine, just get this over with." He waved Jørn onward.
Nor snuffed the cigarette out on the brick wall before leading Jørn in through the back entrance of the restaurant. They passed through a dark green curtain that cloaked the exit from the room.
The restaurant was owned by Levi Thou. There was a front section and a back section, separated by the kitchen. The back section was private, and nearly always vacant, except for the fish that occupied the large tank that towered to the ceiling. The light in the room came primarily from the dimly lit water.
Three of Levi's men were present—four including Nor—and Levi, himself, was where Nor expected to see him. Sitting at his favorite table, where the backlight from the water outlined his huge silhouette. Jørn's steps faltered and nearly came to a complete halt when this came to his field of vision.
Jørn knew the Twin was monstrous in size, he would never forget the first time he laid eyes on the man. It had left a particularly acute impression on him. The Twin's mass could not be mistaken for fat, either. The man was muscular, and his every move seemed to have a godlike momentum. Being that they were on questionable terms, Jørn felt much less impressed by the sheer size of the man, and much more intimidated.
The room was partially below ground, and Jørn felt that the real world had disappeared behind that green, velvety curtain. Perhaps anything could happen here, and no one would ever know. He looked to Nor, their acquaintance having placed some sense of familiarity in Jørn, but Nor took no notice of him and walked across to where one of Levi's other men stood. Jørn glanced in turn, expectant and unsure, to each of the faces watching him. Finally, he was addressed.
"I apologize, you've just missed dinner," a humorless, deep voice resonated from the large figure. "Ah, but that would be…the second time, now, that you've missed a meeting with me."
Jørn was speechless. A shaded arm extended and his hand waved in an unspecific motion. A blond man stepped forward, pulling a chair out from the table before Jørn. At the same time, a waiter removed the plate that sat on the table before the Twin, and left the room.
"But, you are just in time for dessert. Sit," the Twin said, neutrally. Jørn stepped forward, highly aware of his every step. Sat down, unable to ignore that these were not casual movements. He disliked that his nerves surely showed through, and he tried to remain outwardly calm.
"Let us get to business, shall we?" The Twin sat forward, his height impossibly increasing. Jørn tried to sit steadily. "Do you have what you owe?"
"Um, well," Jørn stuttered. His brain seemed to have stopped. The Twin raised a well-defined eyebrow. Just then, the waiter returned with two plates. Each had it's own individual serving of crème brûlée. Jørn, sitting straight, glanced warily at the dessert.
The Twin's hard gaze lingered on Jørn. Convinced that Jørn had nothing to say, he inspected the plate before him. Apparently unimpressed, he sat back into his chair, reverting his gaze back to Jørn. It was as though he wanted to see how long Jørn would silently squirm without saying anything. Finally, Jørn discovered speech.
"I'll-"
The Twin sighed.
"You know, I took a risk when I lent you that money. You had no references, but you convinced me that you were reliable, and I gave you that money in good faith. Tell me. Do you have what you owe me?"
Jørn resigned.
"No, but-"
"So you mean to tell me, that you were taking advantage of me when I generously provided you with 100,000 kronor?"
"Er, no. I don't mean to take advantage of you-" Jørn spoke carefully, trying to get a word in before the Twin might cut him off again. But the Twin rose a silencing hand, and for some reason it compelled Jørn to stop talking.
"Now. We have some dessert here to enjoy, yes?"
The Twin waited. Jørn looked at him, startled.
"Yes…"
Jørn picked up his fork, and only then noticed that the Twin's dish had been served with a fork and a knife. Of course, Jørn wondered if the dessert might be drugged somehow, or poisoned, but he inserted his fork into the crème brûlée, unsure of what else he could possibly do.
"Now, we have yet to pray," the Twin said, looking at Jørn with some derision. "What would you like to pray for?"
"I don't know," Jørn said curtly, only thinking that he couldn't fake a prayer if he tried. "Nothing."
"Didn't your parents ever teach you to pray?"
"I…I'm not a very religious man."
"You and I have that in common. But, I am being generous. I'm offering you an opportunity. Suppose that you are on a plane, and it is plummeting to earth. You are going to die."
Jørn shuddered, looking at the Twin seriously, trying to figure out how hypothetical this scenario was.
"Do you not pray then?" The Twin finished.
Jørn didn't know how to respond. He didn't see how it would matter. Would it?
"A prayer would not keep the plane from plummeting to earth, no," he said, unable to really take the question seriously. The Twin inhaled.
"I find it awfully brave of you, in the face of death, to not even chance a prayer to the possibility of a God of grace," the Twin said.
Jørn swallowed, uttering wordlessly, and he gently set a hand on the table, as though passively trying to gesture for an interjection. His hand was shaking.
"Fortunately, you do not have to worry about that here," the Twin went on. Jørn looked up at him hopefully. "You're not here to die. And if you were, God would not keep that from happening, yes?" The Twin chuckled good-naturedly. "You are here to make amends, are you not?"
The Twin had seemingly set him up, bringing him here just to torment him. But it was almost as though the Twin was offering Jørn an out, now. Jørn would not let this pass him by. He reacted eagerly.
"Yes. Yes, I am, I would love to make amends, I'll-"
The Twin made a small, amused mutter.
"If you have nothing to pay me with, what do you have to make amends with?" The Twin looked on in puzzlement. He sat up again, setting his left hand on the fork, and picking up the knife in his right hand. His gaze was condemning. Jørn saw, then, that the knife was serrated.That was certainly atypical for a dessert.
Standing aside, Nor watched with silent intrigue. The man he'd met at the gallery, confident and composed, was disintegrating. The man at the gallery had not been this afraid of him. The Twin possessed true power. He didn't know what it was that filled him with such awe, seeing someone ease their self into succumbing, seeing someone slip into compliance and desperation.
"I'm sorry, I d-" Jørn gibbered.
"When you walked in here," the Twin asserted, his voice louder, more aggressive. His expression matched his change in pitch. "I could tell, that you were nervous." Picking up the fork, he gestured at the back entrance with it. "But you were trying to hide it. You do realize, that this was terribly inappropriate behavior on your part, yes? Or are you so stupid, that you do not realize you should be nervous. You should be scared. You're a fool if you're sitting before me, looking like you don't know what is going on. Do you know what is going on? Or will you keep looking at me, trying to convince me that you are unafraid? As though you are oblivious to the fact that you have a debt, and that one way or another, you will pay it."
The Twin made a sudden movement. Assured and swift, a large hand struck down on the hand that Jørn had hesitantly placed on the table minutes before. It was like seeing a python strike at blinded prey. Jørn jumped in his seat. One of the Twin's men flinched.
"You have come to me today with nothing. So I will have to make a choice," the Twin went on.
Grimacing, Jørn was trying to tug himself free from the massive hand that had his entire hand pressed down, splayed firmly against the surface of the table.
The Twin brought the serrated knife forward, casually gesturing at Jørn with it.
"Which fingers do I want to take?"