Hidden Depths (9 page)

Stripping to his boxer shorts, Felix started Horst's car and drove it slowly onto the jetty. He untied Horst's hands from the steering wheel and shoved the heavy frame of a blood-soaked Horst over to the passenger side, retying Horst's hands to the passenger door. Then he got in at the driver's side, accidentally switching on the car radio. The aria ‘Toreador' from the Bizet's opera ‘Carmen' blared out into the dark night.

‘
Toreador, en garde! Toreador, Toreador
!'

Felix understood the paradox of this operatic song – a bullfighter in the ring with an enraged, black-eyed beast charging the matador – and himself, confronting a Musketeer. He turned up the volume, opened the car window on the driver's side and both window in the back to ensure the water would flood in but that he could escape. He revved the engine and drove as fast as he could along the long jetty until the car took flight, projecting into the air and out over the lake before landing flat on the water.

With difficulty, Felix scrambled out onto the roof of the car where he stood, feeling like a mountaineer reaching the summit after a long, arduous climb. The ascent had been breathtaking and now he could admire the view.

‘
Et songe bien, oui, songe bien en combattant, qu'un oeil noir te regarde…
'

Feeling vindicated and invincible, Felix began a jumping jig of a dance on the rooftop, hoping the pressure of his bouncing weight would make the car sink quicker.

The music resonated in the night air. ‘
Toreador…
'

The water was rising and flooding through the car windows. Felix felt strangely elated and began to sing the words of the song.

‘
Toreador, l'amour, t'attend! Toreador, Toreador, l'amour t'attend!
'

The last thing Horst heard at his dying breath, hoped Felix, was that the boy from Torgau was singing and dancing, having got the better of him.

The music suddenly muted and the headlights dimmed. The car was rolling in a lopsided fashion and sinking fast as the water had reached the roof. Felix dived away from the drag and pull of the car as it went under, swimming back to the safety of the jetty. Quickly, he dressed himself and fetched a torch from his rucksack, shining it on the water, anxious to see that Horst hadn't miraculously escaped. Ten minutes later, Felix felt satisfied the evil Musketeer had sunk without a trace.

Chapter Twelve
: The Days That Followed

F
ELIX WOKE UP THE
next morning alone in Gertrude's house. He hadn't slept well, tormented by the images of what had happened last night at Muggelsee. He was now a murderer. Unplanned, but that was the outcome and the sum total of all his actions the previous night. How was a murderer supposed to feel?

Horst had made him feel dirty again and his hands were sore from constantly washing them during the night. And what did he think about himself? Was he proud of the choice he had made to kill Horst? In addition to his Torgau secrets, was this going to be the hardest secret to keep? Could anyone understand if he shared this secret with them? Would he lose Klaus and Ingrid's love, and now, more importantly, Martha's love?

Felix knew he had to stay silent and live a lie, keeping his secrets, as he always did, locked in the dark recesses of his mind. He believed he had left no clues at the scene of the crime and surreptitiously returned to the cottage when nobody was around to return the gun, wiped clean of his fingerprints. Horst's mobile and wallet he secreted safely in his old hideaway in Das Kino. The hair clippings he placed in an envelope and wrote the letters ‘HG' on it. A thought crossed his mind: what if Horst had telephoned one of his friends in the red diary and told them Felix Waltz was alive and where to find him? Felix switched on the mobile phone and looked at the last calls and texts Horst had made. No calls or text messages had been sent for two days – before the golf tournament had even begun. Felix was in the clear.

Looking through Horst's diary, some of the names inside seemed familiar and it began to dawn on Felix that he couldn't just get rid of one of the Musketeers. He needed the DNA from all three, to find out which one was Axel's father, and he couldn't take it from them if they were alive. No, all three Musketeers had to die. One for all and all for one, as he'd heard them say so many times.

But was taking the law into your own hands ever justified? The saying ‘Two wrongs don't make a right' echoed in Felix's brain, yet he was a murderer and to convince himself he was a vigilante acting on his nephew's behalf was a paradox. Axel was not free of danger if the Musketeers stayed alive and Felix couldn't relax knowing that they or their paedophile associates might turn up unannounced in the future to harm the little boy.

No, there was no turning back. Felix went over and over it in his head, wanting to be sure he was making such monumental decisions for the right reasons. There were three, he rationalised: to safeguard Axel, first and foremost, for his own revenge, and to uncover the truth about Axel's true parentage. To label his motives for murder seemed a bizarre ritual, but in Felix's complex mind it was clear and succinct.

Revenge was perfectly understandable given the circumstances at Torgau: an eye for an eye. He recalled the surprisingly powerful adrenaline rush and the thrill it had given him to be in control of Horst and ultimately, his destiny. Perhaps this made him no better than the depraved monsters he was seeking to punish? And yet who else would punish them for their heinous crimes if he himself didn't? He hadn't gone looking for trouble, trouble had found him. Felix had taken a gun to defend himself with no intention of using it. The gun was simply a bargaining tool.

But why hadn't he fired the gun? It was clear he'd wanted Horst dead. One single bullet to the head would have done the deed without the added fuss and danger he put himself in. It would have been over too quickly and that wouldn't have caused the Musketeer enough suffering, Felix decided. He had wanted Horst to feel weak, helpless and afraid; to feel like ‘little Felix' and ‘little Susi' had felt. The Musketeer had showed no sense of shame or remorse and instead had taunted Felix with threats, waving his red diary in front of him. By doing this, Horst had decided his own fate.

Felix convinced himself that he could live with the truth that he was as capable of murder as any man, given the circumstances and opportunity. There would be a limit to how many paedophiles needed to die to ensure Axel's future safety. His four targets were the Musketeers and their go-between. As for the rest of the paedophiles in the red diary, he had to be clever and plot a plausible subterfuge, informing the police by surreptitious means, thereby diverting attention away from himself. It needed a clear head to think through how he was going to manage this but he would do his best not to get caught and hope no one ever found out.

At the golf club, the players arrived early to practise on the second day of the tournament whilst television crews took their positions alongside the stewards, and the public were let in. Felix arrived a little bleary-eyed, greeted by Bernd in the men's locker room.

‘You left the party early, so why do you look so tired?' Bernd joked.

‘Herr Burgermeister, it's far too early for your pathetic jokes!' Felix snapped at his uncle.

Bernd wasn't going to take such rudeness. ‘Don't you dare talk to me like that!'

Felix realised he'd stepped out of line and made a mistake. His tone was sincere. ‘Onkel, I'm sorry, really.'

Noticing the scratches and bruises on Felix's face, Bernd said sternly: ‘Don't take your bad moods out on other people.' Looking at Felix's swollen face, he added: ‘What's happened? Have you been in a fight?'

‘No.' Felix said the first thing that came into his head. ‘I fell off my Schwalbe.'

Bernd was concerned. ‘Are you all right?'

‘Just cross with myself. Sorry.'

‘Best not tell Ingrid, she hates motorbikes and she worries about you. Felix, one of the security guys hasn't turned up, so they're a man down. If they need help, can you give them a hand later on?' Bernd asked.

‘Of course.'

Left alone in the locker room, Felix glanced at his face in the mirror. In a few days the marks from Muggelsee would fade. He needed to get stronger and fitter if he was going to overcome the other Musketeers. Horst had been no pushover and Felix's body ached from their pugnacious encounter.

Over the next two days, Felix wondered if Horst had been officially reported missing. It unsettled him every time the news came on and he felt mightily relieved every time when nothing about Horst or his car being discovered at Muggelsee was mentioned. Horst had clearly been telling the truth about not having a family or any close relationships because he had disappeared without a trace and no one seemed to miss him.

The golf tournament ended and everyone deemed it a great success. Bernd and Klaus threw a party for the family and staff at the club and Martha came for the celebrations. Felix was his usual gentle self with Martha; he couldn't behave any differently with her, although she noticed his bruises immediately.

‘You look as if you've been in a fight?'

‘Yeah, I had a fight at Carsten's boxing club. You don't mind if I take up boxing do you?' he lied.

Martha laughed. ‘It'll ruin your good looks, but I'll love you anyway. And don't think I haven't noticed how red your hands are. What's up?'

‘When I'm stressed, I wash them – excessively. It's something I started at Torgau and it returns occasionally.' Martha was concerned. ‘What's happened to make you feel so stressed?'

Felix lied again. ‘The tournament's been manic here all week, I've worked from the crack of dawn till midnight and I'm tired, that's all.'

‘Relax and leave your hands alone,' Martha said, softly squeezing them. ‘We'll have a lie-in at Gertrude's house tomorrow.'

Felix kissed her and smiled at the thought.

‘Oh, and I've some news for you,' Martha began. ‘I've just found out, there's a seven-week, foreign exchange trip to England soon with my school. It'll really help my English and you can come and visit me for the last week, I've already asked.'

‘When are you going?'

‘Mid October ‘til early December. I'll miss you.'

‘I'll miss you, too.'

‘We can phone and write. Please say you'll come?' Martha implored.

Felix kissed her. ‘Of course I'll visit you. Whereabouts in England?'

‘Brighton, by the sea.'

After the weekend Martha returned home to Kopenick and Klaus and Ingrid asked Felix to stay with them at the cottage. He was more than happy to have the company because being alone with his tormented thoughts in Gertrude's house was proving too difficult. When he was busy or with other people it was easier.

‘We made a lot of money out of the golf tournament,' Klaus began. ‘We'd like you to have a car for your 18th birthday in the New Year.'

Felix was surprised at their generosity. ‘Really?'

‘Well, you'll be a man. It's time you had your own bank account too.'

‘Onkel, thank you,' Felix said, hugging Klaus.

‘You deserve it, lad. I imagine Martha will like to ride in a nice, new car. No one likes a Schwalbe in the middle of winter.'

Ingrid came out of Axel's room. ‘Felix, Axel's asking for you.'

Felix put his arms around Ingrid and kissed her. ‘Tante, thanks for the car.'

‘I'm sure you'll still ride your bike in the warmer months but I'll worry less with you in a car,' Ingrid told him.

Felix went into the little boy's room. Axel's delight at seeing his Onkel was tangible and he jumped upright in his bed. ‘Fewix. Read me a story?'

How could Felix resist?

Axel fell asleep during his bedtime story. Felix kissed his nephew softly on his cheek and tucked him in. Tears welled in his eyes. At this moment, as he looked at this beautiful, innocent child, he realised that killing Horst to protect his family was the only choice he could have made. Felix decided he would no longer harbour regrets about Horst and his premature demise. He believed it was the children that mattered most in the world and they had the right to be loved and protected.

Felix came back into the lounge. ‘He's asleep.'

‘I haven't asked you yet where you got those bruises?' Ingrid questioned her nephew.

Felix fobbed her off. ‘Boxing… I went to the gym with Carsten and I'd like to take up boxing. Do you think I could have a punch bag and a few weights? I could set up a mini gym in Das Kino.'

‘I don't see why not, but it'll spoil your good looks,' Ingrid told him.

‘That's what Martha said but I need to get fitter. Onkel, can I join your gun club.'

Klaus was surprised. ‘OK, but you'll need your own pistol.'

‘I've been practicing with yours, at targets in the woods.'

Ingrid was unimpressed. ‘Felix! You can't just take guns into the woods or you'll have the police on our doorstep, you need a licence.'

‘You should have asked me,' Klaus told him.

‘Sorry. You're right, I should have asked.'

‘Well, all right, I'll get another gun and you can have mine when we get you a licence. Did you hit your targets?' Klaus asked.

‘Yes, I hit my target,' Felix replied, thinking of Horst.

‘Your hands are sore again,' Ingrid observed. ‘Everything all right with you and Martha?'

‘I've been a bit stressed lately,' Felix replied. ‘Martha and me are fine. Do you know, she's going to England next month on a school exchange? She'll be gone seven weeks and I'm invited for the last week. I'll need my own bank account, that's for sure. I'm going to miss her.'

‘We'll help you sort it out, lad, and seven weeks will go quickly. What will you do with all that free time?' Klaus asked.

‘Onkel, I thought that as it's the end of the tourist season at the lake I could have a little break from work and enrol in an English course, to be on a par with Martha and to be prepared for when I go to England.'

‘Good idea, but you'd have to go to a city for that, there's not many language schools near us,' Ingrid mused.

‘I thought I would go to one in Berlin, travel up in the mornings, do an afternoon course and return here at night,' Felix suggested.

Klaus nodded his approval. ‘Fine by me.'

When Felix went to bed that night, all his thoughts seemed crystal clear. He would put Martha's absence to good use and was free to plot his crimes and stalk his victims in their home environment. Flicking through Horst's infamous diary, Felix began working out a plan. The die was cast; his course was set.