The colour has returned to her cheeks.

‘And when you found out that he planned not only to maim someone—like in his previous artworks—but actually kill someone, you thought: Hey, this guy’s the most famous action artist on the planet, it must be all right?’

My voice oozes disgust.

‘No,’ Theresa says in dismay. ‘It wasn’t like that. I didn’t know!’

I look her in the eyes. I still feel like slapping her—but I believe her.

‘Do you know why he chose you rather than anyone else?’ I ask.

She looks at me steadily.

‘Because I’m good,’ she replies. ‘You said so yourself.’

I almost burst out laughing. Not because she isn’t good, but because I find it so absurd that she can still believe that Balder’s interested in her art.

‘He chose you because you look so like her,’ I say coldly.

‘Like who?’

‘Valerie.’

I watch to see the effect of my words. Theresa blinks, aggrieved, and for a moment neither of us speaks.

‘I want to know what his plans are,’ I say, raising the revolver again.

Theresa laughs bitterly at the gesture.

‘You don’t need to do that,’ she says. ‘He tricked me into planting a loaded gun on you. I’ll tell you whatever you want to know.’

‘Okay then,’ I say. ‘What was your job?’

‘To keep an eye on you. Inform him when you left the flat. Things like that.’

But that isn’t everything.

‘What else?’ I ask sharply.

Theresa stares at the floor.

‘The first time I was in your flat I took some stuff with me and left a few things behind.’

My phone, I think. That fucking pen.

‘Other times, Balder’s assistant was in your flat. Whenever you went out or came to see me.’

‘Breaking and entering.’

She doesn’t look at me.

‘Before you changed the lock, it was all quite easy. We had a spare key to your flat. From the previous tenant.’

‘What was it all for?’ I ask. ‘I understand the phone. But the rest? What good was my toothbrush to you? And why did you leave a fucking bunny rabbit in my flat?’

‘To unnerve you,’ Theresa says. ‘Confuse you, disorientate you. Classic gaslighting. To make you feel you were losing your grip on reality, couldn’t trust your senses—that anything was possible.’

‘How could you agree to all that, Theresa?’ I ask tonelessly.

She opens her mouth, shuts it again.

‘At first I was proud to be part of it. And then things got kind of…out of hand. It all started to run away with itself. It was harmless to begin with; it was only later that things got more and more extreme, and…’

She interrupts herself, starts over.

‘I never thought anyone would get seriously hurt.’

I let this sink in for a moment.

‘But what’s the idea?’

‘What do you mean?’

‘What’s the idea behind the whole operation? What does Balder stand to gain? He can’t have droves of spectators in the Prater if I’m not supposed to notice anything.’