Strangers

by Ursula Archer

  Erik barely glances at the envelope, his eyes have narrowed. “You think I’ll take your money?”

  “It’s not about money, it’s about you being able to feel safe. Money isn’t the solution here, interestingly enough it never is, but it helps.”

  I can see the gears turning in his head, contemplating whether my suggestion can in any way be linked to the theory that I’m in league with Gabor.

  “There’s no way I’m going,” he says eventually. “Bernhard said you’re in danger; you really think I could just take off?”

  I pick up the envelope and put it back into the book. “It depends on whether you trust me. Despite what happened with the knife, which I’m still unable to explain. Really. And for that reason, I can’t promise you that it won’t happen again, but I swear to you that I don’t want to hurt you. Not in my conscious mind.”

  Erik rubs both his hands over his face. He’s pale, says nothing, and just nods.

  I can’t let myself forget what he’s been through. Not just today, but in the past few days as well, when he looked after me almost around the clock. It’s only fair I take charge of things now.

  And apart from that it feels good—it fits with the version of Joanna I’ve always considered myself to be.

  “You sleep upstairs, in the bedroom, you can lock the door there. I’ll take my things and make up a bed on the couch.”

  He halfheartedly tries to protest, but I wave my hand dismissively. “It’s the only sensible solution. That way nothing can happen.”

  He’s not convinced, but his tiredness wins. “Don’t open the door to anybody, Jo, OK? And if you hear any noise outside, come upstairs right away.”

  I promise him. I grab my things and get set up on the couch, trying to beat back the uneasy feeling that’s creeping up inside me.

  What if Gabor didn’t believe that I’m spending the night at a friend’s place? What if he sends someone by here to check?

  Sleep eludes me. Every sound in the house makes me nervous. I listen for steps outside, for cars passing by—are they slowing down or is it just my imagination?—and even to my own pulse.

  It’s past two o’clock in the morning when I finally give up and turn on the television. I keep the volume so low that even I can barely hear it.

  There are still special reports about the attack on Munich station, and now the government is speaking up. Security services are on high alert, is the general gist of it, so the population don’t need to be afraid of any follow-up attacks. The only different opinion is that of the chairman of a right-wing populist party, who claims to have seen this coming for a long time and says that Germany is already at war. In between, there are live reports from the station and the same material from this afternoon. It will probably go on like this for the whole night. By now I’ve looked at the images so often that they’re almost familiar. So familiar, that despite the horror in them, I manage to doze off.

  * * *

  It feels like I haven’t slept any more than three or four hours, but when I open my eyes it’s almost ten o’clock. The television is still on, showing new images of the destruction; this time the large station hall can be seen from the inside. I stare at the images for a few minutes, only now realizing what Erik must have gone through. And all of a sudden I realize what we have to do next.

  We can’t just bury our heads in the sand. Erik is convinced that Gabor at least knew about the attack, even if he wasn’t involved in it. Bernhard’s call was practically an admission of conspiracy.

  We can’t keep all that from the police.

  Or I can’t, to be precise. Because Erik has to stay dead. Until we’re somewhere safe.

  A few minutes later I knock on his door. I feel my heartbeat quicken as it stays silent on the other side. Could something terrible have happened up here while I was asleep downstairs?

  I knock again. Harder. Louder.

  “I’m awake.” His croaky voice says otherwise.

  “I’m sorry I woke you, but we have to discuss what we’re going to do next. I’ll make us some coffee, OK?”

  A quarter of an hour later we’re sitting in the kitchen, each of us with a steaming mug in front of us. I’ve turned off the television; who knows what the sight of the images might provoke in Erik. I need his complete attention and concentration now.

  “We have to inform the police.” He opens his mouth to interrupt me, but then stops as I shake my head. “We can’t get to the bottom of this by ourselves, and if we just sit around and wait, it could cost us our lives. I don’t think Gabor will wait too long before attempting to get rid of us again. Or to get rid of me, to be more precise.”

  Erik stirs his coffee; for a few seconds the clink of the spoon against the inside of the cup is the only sound I hear. Apart from a car engine outside. A diesel engine, idling. Not driving past.

  In my mind I picture men in black sunglasses taking photos of the house; maybe one of them will get out and try to peer in through the blinds … Everything inside me wants to get up and quickly look outside, but that would be the stupidest, the worst thing I could do …

  I’ve barely finished the thought by the time the driver of the car steps on the gas. The sound of the engine becomes quieter, before disappearing completely.

  Erik still hasn’t said a word.

  “I’ll speak to the police, given the circumstances.” The certainty of my voice surprises even me. “But it would be very helpful if you could give me all the details again. Every moment of doubt you had about Gabor and his people.”

  * * *

  I’ve made notes for my phone call to the station so I don’t forget anything. I’m guessing that the conversation will be recorded, so I have to sound convincing, particularly in terms of being worried about Erik.

  “My fiancé was at Munich station yesterday at lunchtime,” I sob, when I finally get someone on the phone. “He hasn’t been in touch since, I can’t reach him, and no one knows what happened to him.…”

  The officer tries to calm me down, and I let him. After a few moments, I continue with a softer, more composed voice. “It was so strange yesterday. You know—I think Erik suspected that something wasn’t right. There were a few attempts on his life in the past few days. And looking at it in hindsight, it seems to me like his company could be involved in the attack. I also got this very strange call from one of his coworkers yesterday. He warned me, you know.”

  “Really?” The officer is now listening attentively, but with caution as well. He probably gets ten people an hour calling him with some conspiracy theory. “Would you come to the station and go on record about your suspicions?”

  I was afraid of that. “No. I’m sorry, I don’t want to leave the house right now. I don’t know if I’ll reach you alive.”

  “Fine. Then we’ll send someone over to you. This afternoon around two; please make sure you’re available, on the phone as well.”

  I give him the address and hang up.

  * * *

  The three hours until the scheduled arrival of the police feel like three days. Just before twelve, Ela calls, distraught, wanting to know if Erik has turned up yet, saying that she can’t find him on any of the lists—neither the survivors list nor the casualty list.

  It hurts to have to lie to her, but if I want to keep Erik’s cover intact, there’s no other way. “No. No sign of him.” I whisper into the phone. “I don’t know what to do.”

  “I’ll come by.”

  “No.” That was a little too quick. “Please don’t. I didn’t get a moment’s sleep the whole night and I just took a sleeping tablet. Maybe tomorrow, hopefully by then…” I didn’t finish the sentence, but Ela understands.

  “Oh God, yes. Hopefully.” I can hear her hesitating, like she wants to say something else but doesn’t really know what. “You sound almost like you used to before. Like you care about Erik. So do you? Are you remembering?”

  He is sitting opposite me, and looks up when he realizes I’m staring at him. Tries to
smile.

  “No,” I say. “Not even a little. But I’m still so terribly worried about him. And no, I don’t understand it either.”

  We promise that we’ll contact each other right away if we find out anything about Erik, then Ela hangs up.

  * * *

  When the doorbell rings shortly after two, it almost takes superhuman effort for me to open the door. The two men I can see through the spy hole could just as easily be Gabor’s people. Dark pants, dark jacket. Only when one of them holds up their ID do I open the door.

  We sit down in the living room. I wanted Erik to wait upstairs until the policemen are gone, but he insists on hearing as much of the conversation as possible. So he’s sitting in the pantry, and I hope there’s nothing in there that makes him sneeze.

  I’ve prepared myself for this. Among other things by covering the remainder of the bruise on my forehead with concealer. I don’t want the police to ask the wrong questions.

  But they barely ask anything anyway; instead they let me speak, and I tell them everything. About the boiler which almost cost us our lives, about the car accident that pushed Erik off the road. “There are police reports and hospital files on both of these incidents, which I’m sure you’ll be able to take a look at. The day before yesterday, Erik said that he suspected Gabor Energy Engineering were behind all of it. But he didn’t think anything of it when they asked him to pick up some business partners from Munich station on Monday. His boss specifically told him that he had to be there at ten minutes past one, and not be late.”

  I look at first one, then at the other policeman, seeing their faces blur before my eyes. Tears, at exactly the right moment. “And it seems he was there on time.”

  The policeman sitting opposite me and to my left has been making notes the whole time. Now he lays his pen aside. “If all of this is the case, Frau…” He glances at his notepad. “Frau Berrigan, why didn’t you report the suspicion previously? Why didn’t Herr Thieben?”

  “We didn’t have any proof.” I wipe the back of my hand across my face, taking care not to touch the part with the concealer. “Do you think Erik would have been able to keep his job after that? And besides, we didn’t know whether we were right, it all seemed so implausible. And there wasn’t even any reason for Gabor wanting to get rid of Erik.”

  The two policemen exchange a quick glance.

  “You said on the phone that one of Erik’s coworkers called you yesterday and warned you?”

  “Yes.” I pick up my phone from the coffee table and open the caller list. Hopefully the officials will also see my forty-seven unsuccessful attempts to reach Erik; that can’t hurt.

  “This call here at half past twelve, that was Bernhard Morbach, a close colleague of Erik’s. He’s never called me before, so I have no idea where he got my number from. He seemed to want to apologize more than anything. He said that he hadn’t known exactly what was going to happen, that he should have warned Erik, and that he was sorry. And then he said that I should disappear, hide as quickly as possible. Otherwise I would soon be dead too.”

  Another quick exchange of glances between the two. The one on the right makes a note. “Thank you, Frau Berrigan, this information could prove to be very helpful. It would probably be a good idea if we take you to a safe place until we’ve checked the details of your statement. We don’t want anything to happen to you. Would you agree to that?”

  I hesitate, then shake my head. “For now, I’d rather stay here. In case Erik turns up again.”

  The man shrugs regretfully. “We’d like to station someone here to protect you, but right now we need everybody we’ve got. So it’s best if you don’t open the door to anyone and call the police if anything strange happens. Maybe you have some friends who could stay with you for a few days?” I don’t answer and just shrug instead.

  “OK then. If you change your mind…” He presses a card into my hand; I take it with a grateful smile.

  No place the police could offer me would be as safe as the one I’m going to get us to.

  Just another day, then everything will be over.

  34

  I exit the pantry. At last. I felt like a criminal, hiding in there.

  The fact that Joanna knowingly lied to the police officers is arousing a feeling of discomfort inside me. After all, these men are some of the people we’re hoping will help us. But she’s right, it had to be done.

  Roughly another minute passes before she calls from the hall. “You can come out now, their car is leaving.” She stops in the passage through to the kitchen when she sees me sitting at the table.

  “You did that really well,” I say.

  She sits down opposite to me. “What else—”

  The doorbell. Again. I shoot her a querying look, and she does the same to me.

  “The police,” Joanna guesses and gets up.

  I follow suit. “Yes, maybe they forgot something. Sneak over to the door and take a look. But don’t open it if it’s somebody else.”

  She nods at me. I see the fear in her eyes. Can she see it in mine too? She sneaks into the hall and I position myself by the door to the storeroom, ready to vanish into it again.

  Nothing happens for quite a while, then Joanna says something. So the policeman really did come back. I pull the storeroom door shut behind me until only a small strip of light falls through.

  Joanna’s voice again; I can’t understand what she’s saying. I hear it again, more muffled … no, that’s not Joanna. It’s coming from outside. Another woman. She keeps talking, quickly and excitedly. I think I hear my name, and suddenly I can understand everything that’s being said.

  Joanna has let the woman come into the house.

  Then I recognize the voice. Nadine. I clench my teeth so hard it hurts my jaw. This simply can’t be happening. Nadine, of all people. What if Gabor sent her? Ever since her performance here the other day, I wouldn’t put anything past her. I hear the front door being pushed shut.

  “Thanks for letting me in,” I hear Nadine say. “Despite the stupid way I acted a few days ago.”

  “If you really wanted to talk to me, you could’ve just called.” The way Joanna’s talking to Nadine leaves no doubt about the fact that she’s not particularly thrilled by her showing up here.

  “I did, but you wouldn’t pick up. That’s why … I just need to know about Erik. Also, I—” She pauses. Formulates a new sentence. “I’ve been here for a while. The two men arrived almost at the exact same time as I did. I hid and waited until they’d left again. So that’s how I knew you were home. Who were they?” Nadine’s voice still sounds agitated.

  “Why do you want to know?”

  “Because I … was it someone from my work?”

  There’s a brief pause. Joanna’s thoughts are probably racing right now, just as much as mine are. What’s Nadine up to? And—if she knows where Joanna is, does Gabor know as well?

  “No, it wasn’t anyone from work. Come on.”

  The sound of footsteps moving away, then immediately coming closer from the other side. They’re in the living room.

  “Have a seat.”

  “Thanks. So who were those men, then?”

  Another pause. Then Joanna’s voice. “That’s none of your business. I’ve got other things to worry about right now; I don’t have time to play games. So, will you please stop asking me questions and tell me why you’re here?”

  Careful, Joanna. Don’t be so abrupt. You’re sick with worry about me, remember? Nadine isn’t stupid.

  There’s silence for a while, followed by the sound of someone forcefully blowing their nose. Then Nadine’s voice again. It’s tearful now, interspersed with sobs.

  “I think it’s terrible that we still don’t know about Erik. And I rented the car he took to Munich, too.”

  More sobbing. Joanna cuts in after a few moments.

  “Does anyone know what happened to the people Erik was meant to pick up?”

  “I don’t know anything. Latel
y everything’s changed at work.” Nadine slowly seems to be getting ahold of herself again. “Erik told me about a new project that I didn’t know about. That’s never happened before. I’ve … I’ve always been in charge of project administration, and now all of a sudden there’s a project I don’t know a thing about? I talked about it to Herr Geiger, that’s my boss. Erik’s boss as well. His reaction was very strange. He said he didn’t know anything about a project, but he was lying; I noticed right away.”

  “How so?”

  “He started making phone calls the minute I left his office. I can see it on my phone display. I stood next to the door and eavesdropped. Although I couldn’t understand much, Geiger was speaking very quietly. But my name was mentioned, and so was the word Phoenix, two times, even.”

  Phoenix. There it is again, the name of that ominous project. I have to force myself to stay quiet, to not throw open the door and run into the living room.

  “Phoenix,” Joanna says as Nadine pauses. “I’ve not heard anything about it. What is it?”

  Very good, Joanna.

  “I don’t know. Erik mentioned it to me when he asked me about the project. And, I got a call this morning from Bernhard Morbach. You know him, right? He was all nervous, like he was in a real rush. He wanted me to come meet him, outside the office at that, and I was supposed to bring him a USB flash drive that was taped underneath his desk. I didn’t want to at first because the whole thing seemed weird, but then he said it was a matter of life and death, so I agreed to do it.”

  She pauses.

  “And then?” Joanna’s tone is more gentle than before.

  “We met at the edge of the parking area. Bernhard looked awful. Pale, unkempt, just not like himself. And the way he was looking at me. He had this crazed expression, somehow. He said that Erik…” Sobbing, again. “He said he thought Erik was dead. And that they were after him.”

  “They?” Joanna asks, when Nadine doesn’t continue.