And that’s how it started.
Who thought we’d be seeing you again? Quite honestly, no one. But here you are again, three days later and still with a broken heart. You’re sitting completely overtired on a park bench on the shoreline of the Alster, watching the sun rising sluggishly over Hamburg as if it had been diving all night long after gold.
It’s half past eight on Friday morning, and you’d be happier if you were in bed. It was a rough night—a concert followed by a party, and you ended up with a woman you’d shared a taxi with. Tina or Gina or whatever. Women like you. You had sex for the first time on your fourteenth birthday after your best friend’s sister took you aside and told you she had something to show you. She was the first who left the hole inside you. Perhaps it’s a virus, perhaps you’re really cursed, at any rate since that day you’ve been searching tirelessly for your great love. You don’t know if the yearning gets more intense with age, and if it does you can understand why people slit their wrists or watch romantic comedies all day. That hole in your heart won’t leave you alone. You can wake up next to as many women as you like, it’s never the real thing. The soul is missing. That one soul. And sometimes you have to drive two hundred miles to discover that that one soul isn’t to be found in Berlin.
This morning you awoke drenched in sweat and your heart was racing. You’ve always found it hard sleeping in strange apartments. Tina or Gina or whatever didn’t wake up when you left her bed and crept into the corridor. Two of the doors were shut, the third was open. A man lay diagonally across a bed, snoring with his mouth open, and opposite him a woman sat by the open window staring into the dawn. She was wearing only a T-shirt and smoking a cigarette. She didn’t notice you. A Saint Bernard came trotting out of the kitchen and looked at you reproachfully, as if you’d been neglecting him for years. He stopped in front of you with a snort and blocked your path. You pushed him aside and closed the apartment door behind you.
The party was in Eimsbüttel, but street signs don’t lie, you are definitely in Altona. For a while you walked through the area, wired and clueless. The night was still deep in your bones, every footstep felt as if you were moving through Jell-O. You bought a coffee and a croissant at the bakery. You sat at a bus stop and watched the city wake up. Sometimes these moments of exhaustion are like a drug. They make you feel as if you’re part of things, as if the people around you are props, the buildings are façades, and the weather is the perfect backdrop for another day in your life. Then there’s the soundtrack—footsteps on the pavement, front doors closing, and the dry clap of pigeons’ wings fluttering as a dog snaps at them. There was a permanent grin on your lips and not a single thought about the future in your head.
Just as you were about to step onto the bus on the Sternschanze, your phone rang. You had to put a hand over one ear, because a street-cleaning truck drove past you, then you recognized her voice and burst out laughing.
“Don’t laugh,” she said and couldn’t help laughing herself.
She asked if you’d survived Berlin, and you said your heart was still beating, then she wanted to know where she could find you. Just like that. There was nothing more to say.
Two hours have passed since then, and you’re sitting on this park bench looking at the sunrise, watching the opposite shore and the way the light breaks against the dome of the mosque. Joggers pant by, a fire engine wails in the distance, and you have a thought that is so clear and so pure that you nearly burst into tears: If I just dissolved into nothing and became part of the atmosphere right now, it would be a good way to go.
You’re definitely overtired.
A car horn jolts you awake. You’ve nodded off like one of those old men who spend the whole day on a park bench and go home in the evening with birdshit on their shoulders. The car is parked at the edge of the road, the tinted windows are opaque, the sky is reflected razor-sharp. You rub your eyes. When you look again the passenger-side window slides down, the sky slips away, and there she is.
“Have you been waiting long?”
“A few minutes.”
“Will you invite us to breakfast?”
“Who’s us?”
She doesn’t bother answering. The window goes back up, the car doors open, and five girls step out.
You have a table under the spreading branches of a chestnut tree. The girls eat as if they’ve been fasting for a week. Stink sits opposite you, her hair woven into a braid. There is a purple blotch under one eye and she looks tired, they all look tired. The girl on Stink’s left looks like she fell out of a car. She’s the only one wearing a long skirt, because her knee is so swollen that she can’t get into a pair of jeans. The girl on Stink’s right is pale and exhausted. She has a pageboy cut that reveals her long neck. You’ve never seen such a graceful neck, it’s beckoning to be touched. Taja. They tell you that she’s had a close encounter with heroin, and that she’s slowly getting back on her feet.
“And we saved her,” says Schnappi and thrusts her little fist into the air as if she’d just scored a goal.
You’ve heard a bunch of dumb names in your time. From Zibs to Bozo to Suck and Stink, but you’ve never met a Schnappi. You don’t know whether she comes from China or Japan. Vietnam doesn’t even occur to you. All Asians look the same as far as you’re concerned, which isn’t nice, but then who are you trying to impress with your knowledge of human beings? Schnappi is less than five feet tall, and built like some sort of elfin creature. When she gave you her hand you felt her delicate bones. She talks like a machine gun and says by way of greeting that she’s heard about you. She gives you the feeling that she knows more about your life than you do.
“To us!” says Schnappi.
The girls raise glasses and cups and drink to themselves. You still have no idea what’s brought them to Hamburg and what they want from you. But they can take all the time they want, because Nessi’s sitting on your right and you’re perfectly happy if things stay that way for a while.
“I’ve got to go again,” she says and gets up.
It’s her third trip to the bathroom. She says she’s throwing up so much that she feels bulimic. The seat next to you is suddenly abandoned and cold, as if a cloud had passed over the sun. Of course Nessi’s too young for you, of course you’re too old for her, but that’s not what this is about. When she goes into the café, you ask the girl who the father is. They shrug.
“Just don’t make an issue of it,” Taja warns you.
Why would I? you think and know the answer, because the answer is your heart and your heart already skipped a beat when Nessi got out of the Range Rover. Yearning crept from your every pore. Is it the face or the body? Is it gestures or is it simply chemistry?
Stink leans forward and pats your hand.
“She’ll be back in a minute.”
The girls laugh. It doesn’t bother you that they can read every thought in your face. Stink grins, you grin back and say, “I knew we’d see each other again.”
“Yes, but you didn’t know it would happen so soon.”
Schnappi touches your arm.
“Tell me more about the curse.”
“About what?”
“Come on, we know everything. When you talk to Stink, you’re automatically talking to the rest of us as well. It’s like in an asylum, all the crazies are watching the same television program. So tell me.”
“Not much to tell. My heart’s on fire the whole time, I’m always filled with longing and fall in love with every woman who comes my way, that’s all.”
Of course you could add that your life has been frozen on the spot for a while, that you’ll turn twenty-eight this year and that you’re tired of being stuck like this. Nothing is happening. But it’s good that you keep quiet about that; not all thoughts need to be shared.
“And?” Schnappi wants to know. “Have you fallen in love again?”
Before you can think of an answer, a tune rings out and Stink pulls her phone from her pants pocket and you recognize her
ringtone as “Tongue” by Bell X1. Taja leans over to see who’s calling, and says in disbelief, “Mirko?”
Ruth tries to take the phone away from Stink.
“That little jerk!”
Stink holds the phone out of reach and wants to know what Ruth’s planning.
“I want to tell him what a fucked-up traitor he is.”
“You don’t even know what’s happened.”
“Stink, someone must have snitched on us, that’s just obvious. Your pal Mirko said he’d be on the football field, and he wasn’t there. So who do you think ratted us out?”
“Don’t answer,” says Schnappi.
“Stink, don’t,” says Taja.
Stink rolls her eyes as if the girls were ridiculous and takes the call.
“What sort of jerk are you!” she says, and winks at the girls. “Yeah, you heard me right. You said you’d be there and then you dumped us. What?”
Stink listens for a while, then she presses the phone to her chest and says to the rest of you, “They’ve got Mirko.”
She speaks into her phone again.
“Of course I know who Ragnar Desche is. You can tell that shithead we’re going to the cops.”
The girls suddenly start shrieking and want to know what on earth Stink’s saying. Taja throws a bread roll at her head. Stink says, “Nah, Mirko, that was just a joke, don’t tell him that.”
Stink moves a little way away from the table. This is the moment when you could ask the girls what’s actually happening here. But the girls aren’t even looking at you. They are watching Stink, who ends the call and comes back to the table.
“Your uncle caught Mirko,” she says to Taja.
“He did what?”
“But don’t worry, Mirko doesn’t know anything.”
“Are you sure?”
“Do I look like someone who isn’t sure?”
To be quite honest, that’s exactly what Stink looks like. You haven’t the faintest idea what’s going on. Nessi comes back from the bathroom.
“What’s wrong with you guys? Did I miss something?”
“Stink’s new lover called,” says Schnappi.
“He’s not my lover, he’s not even twelve.”
“I was eleven when I had my first boyfriend,” says Taja.
“That doesn’t count,” says Schnappi. “Your friend was nine and didn’t know you were so old.”
“At least I had a boyfriend, when you were still counting grains of rice in a paddy field.”
They joke around, they ignore you as if you were the waiter who’d joined them at the table. They’ve forgotten about the phone call, it’s just them against the rest of the world. You’re patient and enjoy their presence. It’s only when they’ve eaten and drunk enough that they tell you, almost in passing, that they’re on the run. You learn how Taja’s father died and that Taja feels guilty and that’s why she knocked herself out with heroin; that the girls found a stash of drugs in the house and how Stink hit on the idea of selling it. You also learn about the fiasco in Lietzensee Park, about how Ruth was beaten up as a warning, and about Ragnar Desche’s ultimatum. After that you don’t actually know what the problem is.
“So what’s the problem?”
They look at you as if you were a cross between a car crash and a miscarriage.
“So you’ve put the drugs back, right?”
Their faces stay unchanged, then Stink asks you if you’ve taken a good look at Ruth.
“Darian really fucked her over. For no reason, okay? He nearly ripped her arm off, and one of her teeth is loose. If you think anyone can do that with one of our girls then you’re wrong. We’ve earned those fucking drugs. Taja’s uncle is never going to see them again.”
You think you’ve heard wrong.
“Girls, you’ve got to give him the drugs back.”
No reaction.
“Where have you hidden them?”
“In a safe-deposit box, and that’s where they’re staying.”
You nod as if that made sense, but it doesn’t make sense.
“And what’s your plan?”
The girls look at each other. They know exactly what comes next, but they don’t want you to find out. They’re being careful. How are you supposed to know that you’re just a stopover on their flight?
“We’re disappearing,” Ruth says at last. “We’re disappearing never to be seen again.”
“No one can do that.”
“Just wait.”
A barrier has gone up. You doubted the girls and they’re not happy. Get to the point before you lose them completely.
“How can I help you?”
“We need money,” says Stink, and breathes out with a sigh as if she’s been waiting all this time for you to ask. “We threw together everything we had. There was nothing to get at my place, my aunt’s stingy and my brother just gave me a pack of cigarettes. Nessi’s broke too, and Ruth managed to lift a hundred euros, and that was that.” Schnappi raises her forefinger.
“I put fifty in the pot.”
“Show-off,” says Nessi.
“Loser,” says Schnappi.
“And fifty from Schnappi,” Stink goes on, “Taja saved five hundred for her InterRail trip, and with the small change, that makes just under seven hundred. You’ve seen the car, it’s a thirsty beast. If we’re going to be on the road for a while, we’re going to …”
She breaks off and shrugs, she looks at you expectantly, and at last you understand. You’re incredibly slow to catch on. You and your mother’s Jaguar and all the money you put on the table in that disco. You’re an ATM with a heart. Even your lighter is made of gold.
“How much?” you ask.
“How much can you manage?”
You look at your watch. It’s half past nine. You need more information, but your father doesn’t answer the phone until eleven. You can scrape some money together. If you want to. There’s an inheritance from your grandfather in your account. But you have one condition, but that’ll come later. All that you need right now is a little time.
“Give me two hours.”
They breathe out and thank you. Nessi gives you a smile, and there’s so much warmth in that smile that your innards melt away, leaving nothing but a puddle. Get out of here before you spill out some kind of romantic nonsense. You’re about to get up when Stink’s phone rings again.
“I bet it’s your lover boy again,” says Schnappi.
“He isn’t my lover boy.”
Stink looks at the display. Taja leans over and grins.
“Of course he’s your lover boy.”
The girls laugh and agree that Mirko must be really in trouble if he’s phoning all the time. You laugh along with them. What would they say if they knew that at that moment Mirko was lying beside a swimming pool with a hole in his forehead, his blood coloring the water? And how would you react if you knew who Taja’s uncle really is? You’d probably get up from the table and walk away without a word and never waste another thought on those five girls.
“Girls, will you shut up, I can’t hear anything,” says Stink, and when it’s quiet, she speaks into the phone.
“Hello? Mirko?”
She freezes, turns around, and looks at you. Why me? you think. She says, “Fuck the deal.”
Nessi frowns, Taja leans forward. Stink says:, “I told you, you don’t scare me.”
Schnappi gets up. Ruth’s fists are clenched.
“Asshole,” says Stink and rings off.
The girls wait and don’t ask any questions.
“That was Taja’s fucked-up uncle,” says Stink. “He says he’s going to find us.”
No reaction, the five girlfriends are only silhouettes in the harsh sunlight shining through the leaves of the chestnut tree. It’s suddenly grown cold, you have goose bumps and don’t understand how it’s possible. Then Stink rouses herself, spreads her arms, and asks what’s up.
“Have you all shit yourselves? Girls, anyone who thinks he can intimidate
us has shit for brains. Nothing scares us, does it? He wants to find us, let him look. How stupid does he think we are?”
You take the phone away from your ear and stare at it, then you look over at Tanner and say, “How stupid does she think we are?”
Tanner doesn’t react. He knows what a rhetorical question is.
You turn to Leo.
“I want to know everything about this girl Stink. What her real name is, where she lives, who her friends are, and what she has to do with Taja.”
You throw him the phone.
“And put Fabrizio onto the last number, tell him to trace the call and find out where this girl Stink is now. We’ll meet in the office in an hour. Tell Darian to be there too. And as to this …”
You look at the dead boy lying by the pool. You feel nothing but satisfaction. He who gives nothing gets nothing in return, you think, and he who takes must also be able to give.
“… we’ll deal with it later.”
You avoid looking at Oskar. Your emotions aren’t called for right now. You need to keep a cool head and solve this problem quickly and cleanly before your emotions get involved. And don’t even think about reacting spontaneously again. Watch your every step. You will have enough time later on to mourn Oskar.
An hour later you’re sitting alone in your office while your men wait outside. David was successful. The recordings in Oskar’s house go back ten days. Three of the eight cameras were active during that time. Living room. Attic. Oskar’s bedroom. Every movement was captured. David spliced the most important scenes together for you and burned them onto a DVD. Now you’re sitting at the monitor of your PC and turning the player on. David said the relevant recordings begin the Wednesday before last. The date appears on the bottom left of the picture.
Wednesday, July 1, 2009.
You see your brother, you see Taja, you hear them arguing, and you can make out every word. You see what happened. You pause and repeat the scene and watch it again. Your brother dies. After that comes Taja’s breakdown. You fast-forward …
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