Sorry (40 page)

“Everything all right?”

“I can … hardly breathe … He … my throat … But it’ll …”

He coughs, clears his throat, and asks, “Have you … found … Helena and Joachim?”

Tamara nods.

“Thank God,” says Samuel and coughs again. “I thought—”

“I’m sorry,” she interrupts, “Helena and Joachim are dead.”

Samuel lowers his head and shakes it slowly in disbelief; when he looks up again, tears shimmer in his eyes. He looks over at Kronauer.

“What happened here?” asks Tamara.

Samuel speaks without taking his eyes off Kronauer.

“Helena and Joachim came back from their trip two days ago, and he turned up here the same evening. He identified himself as a policeman and said the criminal investigation department was keeping the villa under surveillance. He overpowered me and locked me in the cellar. I’ve been sitting down here for two days, not knowing what he’d done to Helena and Joachim. When he came down here just now, I caught him by surprise.”

Now he looks at Tamara.

“I’m glad you found us, because I don’t think I’d have got out of here alive.”

“He’s lying to you,” says Kronauer. “It’s a lie from start to finish.”

“Will you please help me up?” says Samuel and holds his hand out to her. Tamara takes it and helps him to his feet. “We should call the police,” says Samuel.

“
I
AM
THE POLICE
!” Kronauer yells suddenly, then turns calmly back to Tamara. “Call my boss. Gerald will tell you who I am. This old guy lay in wait for me in the park …”

“That’s ridiculous,” says Samuel.

“… and dragged me here. I don’t even know where I am. Please call Gerald.”

Samuel leans against the wall. He’s pale and trembling.

“Look at me,” he says to Tamara. “Do I look like someone who can drag people around the place?”

“Don’t listen to him,” says Kronauer.

“We should tie him up until everything’s sorted out,” says Samuel.

“Listen to me, I’m a policeman. This man is a pedophile, and he won’t wait a second before—”

“How dare you?” Samuel interrupts. “Haven’t you a shred of decency?”

“
SHUT UP
!”

The men fall silent. Tamara holds the gun between them. She feels herself losing her balance. She has backed away from the men and now her back is against the wall. Nothing’s working as it’s supposed to. She was sure she would come storming down here and rescue Kris.
Where on
earth is he?
What she’d really like to do is rewind and rethink her decision. And call the police.

I’ve got to call the police, I’ve got to—

As if from a great distance she hears a voice saying, “You’ve got to decide.”

Tamara focuses on Kronauer. There’s a memory that eludes her.
How does he know my name?
Kronauer tilts his head and waits for her decision.
He was in the villa, he’s from the police. But how does he know my name?
Samuel coughs. The heating pipes hum.
I wish I were somewhere else
, thinks Tamara and makes her decision. She tells Kronauer to sit where he is and turn around. And she tells Samuel to tie him up. Kronauer curses. Samuel reaches into one of the shelves and takes out a roll of nylon tape. He ties Kronauer’s hands to his back and steps away from him.

“Thank you,” he says to Tamara.

T
HE NYLON TAPE
cuts into your wrists, every breath hurts. How did all this happen? How could you think there was no one but Fanni and Karl? Dammit, how could you be so naïve?

You turn around and see that Tamara and the man are leaving the cellar. Tamara isn’t stupid, she makes the man walk ahead of her. You only wish she wouldn’t hold the gun in such an amateurish way.

“Hey, Tamara.”

She turns around.

“You’re making a mistake, do you know that?”

She hesitates. You want to warn her, you want to tell her you know her and you don’t want anything to happen to her. She’s quicker:

“How do you know my name?”

You have no answer. For a few seconds you just look at her, then at last you react and say you were with your criminal investigation colleagues at the villa and—

“I was never introduced to you,” Tamara interrupts. “You were never introduced to me. It makes no sense. I’d really love to know how you know my name.”

She turns away and follows the man upstairs. She doesn’t even think of closing the door behind her. She’s so careless that she won’t survive five minutes with the man.

You start trying to pull your bound hands out from under your legs. Your back hurts, and it doesn’t exactly help that four ribs are broken. Every movement takes your breath away, and as you’re working on your tied hands you wonder why Tamara didn’t believe you. She saw you in the villa, she knows you’re a policeman. And still.

And how does she know the man? What have I missed? Who are Helena and Joachim? And where am I?

Your hands are in front of you. Your whole body is drenched in sweat, and you stagger to your feet. The cellar door is only half-shut, you could run upstairs and then …

The shot makes you jump. You stare speechlessly at the ceiling of the cellar, as if it were possible to see through the concrete into the rooms above. You wait for the next shot, and when you realize that one shot must have been enough, you start frantically rubbing the tape against the edge of the table.

He’s killed her, that bastard has killed her, and I’m still standing down here like an idiot and I’m tied up and there’s nothing I can do
.

You’re too slow. There’s the sound of footsteps on the stairs, and you’re standing by the edge of the table like an idiot with your hands tied and there’s nothing you can do.

I
T’S ALMOST TOO EASY
. It’s almost too disturbingly easy.

He goes upstairs with the girl and fills a glass with water in the kitchen. He gulps it down greedily. The girl stands behind him and asks if he’s feeling better. He nods and says he hasn’t eaten or drunk for two days. He fills the glass again and enjoys his role.

“We should call the police,” says the girl.

He nods again and walks past her into the living room. The stench of the corpses is unbearable. He switches on one of the standard lamps, unlocks the terrace door, and gratefully breathes in the night air. He wonders where the girl has come from so suddenly. How long has she been in the house? The front door is bolted. How could he have failed to notice her?
And why is she so quiet?
He turns around. The girl is standing in the living room doorway looking at him.

“Why Wolf?” she asks.

He’s a bit surprised. He thought she was more naïve, but she’s clever
and she notices things. She would have made a good member of the family. It’s a lovely thought. She and Fanni would have been sisters.

“Can I sit down?”

He doesn’t wait for her answer. He sits down in one of the chairs and crosses his legs.

“Why Wolf?”

“You haven’t got any children, have you? You’re thirty, mid-thirties? You wouldn’t understand what I’m talking about. Without children the world stops turning. I was just defending my children. I didn’t know what was really happening. I was sure you and your friends were to blame for everything. And if you’re quite honest …”

He tilts his head to one side.

“… you are partly responsible. Why an agency that apologizes for other people? Shouldn’t people do that for themselves? What’s the church for? If you do a rain dance you shouldn’t be surprised if it starts raining.”

“What kind of bullshit are you talking about?”

“The good news is,” he goes on as if he hadn’t heard her, “that I forgive you. You’re definitely a good girl and didn’t know what you were getting into. So let’s leave it there.”

He stands up.

“Sit down!”

He doesn’t sit down, he stands where he is, the gun is aimed at his chest.

“What gave me away?” he asks, although he isn’t really interested. He wants her to talk, he wants her to think and not feel.

“The Belzens don’t look as if they’ve only been dead for two days. And you don’t look as if anyone’s been keeping you prisoner. And you could have escaped through one of the cellar windows.”

“Maybe I was tied up?”

“And why did you have the terrace key?”

“Because I’m looking after the house and—”

“I came in through the terrace,” the girl breaks in. “I was here in the living room when you closed the terrace from inside.”

“Ah,” he says. “Clever girl.”

The man comes closer. He can see that she’s shaking.

“What did you do to Wolf?”

“I didn’t do anything to him. He went to sleep and didn’t wake up
again. But I protected his face. The face of an angel. In his sleep he looked like a little boy. Who would want to cover a face like that with soil? It would be inhuman. No, I couldn’t bring myself to do that.”

The man remembers the heavy weight of the boy in his arms. He really couldn’t do him any harm.

“He didn’t suffer,” says the man. “He went to sleep and didn’t wake up.”

The man sees that the girl’s crying. He knows she won’t fire at him. He feels sorry for her. How hard it must be to face the truth head-on, and understand that you’ve done everything wrong.

“It’s fine,” he says, “I know what it feels like.”

“What?”

“I said—”

“I understood you. How could you say something like that?”

“I’ve experienced it myself, I’ve grieved for my children, I know how bad it is.”

He comes still closer.

“Don’t.”

“You’re a good girl, and I’m a good man. We can sort this out without using a gun.”

“Please,” the girl says and takes a step back.

“Just stay calm.”

He will take the gun from her hand. He will take the girl in his arms and reassure her. Then he will deal with the policeman in the cellar. He isn’t done with him yet, not by a long shot. He will put the girl and the policeman in the room with the Belzens. There will be a fire. A fire is the cleanest solution. There will be a fire, and the whole story will be over.

“Wolf was my friend,” says the girl.

“Fanni and Karl were my children,” he replies.

“Don’t,” says the girl and raises her arm.

“Fine,” says the man and stops. The gun is a foot away from his face. He looks down the barrel. He sees the barrel trembling. The girl has her finger on the trigger. The finger isn’t tensed. It’s just sitting as if it doesn’t know what it’s doing there.

Good
, thinks the man and says, “I have no guilt.”

The girl doesn’t react. The man smiles. The girl has stopped crying. She looks at the man as if seeing him for the first time.

“I’m sorry,” she says.

“I know,” says the man, “I do know.”

He puts his hand around the gun. The girl shuts her eyes and pulls the trigger.

It’s as if someone had torn his head back with a jolt. His body follows sluggishly, then the man lands on his back and his face is in flames. It feels as if everything he feels and thinks and sees is a sea of flames. No oxygen comes through it, just the constant throbbing of the fire. A croak emerges from his throat, his hands strike at the flames, and at last, at last pain overwhelms him, and his mind sinks into unconsciousness, while his body still twitches once, twice on the carpet and then lies still. His arms subside, his hands come to rest.

The girl jumps back when the shot goes off. For a while she stands in the hall and waits for the gas to be sucked outside and across the terrace. The man isn’t aware of any of this. He lies on the ground with his half-burnt face twisted to the side. Spittle runs from his mouth, his heartbeat is barely perceptible. The girl bends over him. She smells the burnt flesh, she sees the blood and feels no regret.

S
HE STAYS ON
the cellar steps and sees through the half-open door that Kronauer is no longer sitting on the floor. She is tired. She holds an empty gas pistol in her hand and is dog-tired. She crouches on the steps and waits. When no sound comes from the cellar, she says after a while:

“Hello?”

A shadow moves through the room. Then Kronauer appears in the chink of the door. His bound hands are no longer behind his back. He holds them out like a gift.

“I made my decision,” says Tamara.

“And what made your mind up?”

She shrugs. Even though she feels like crying, she doesn’t want to look weak in front of Kronauer.

“I didn’t like him.”

“Good enough,” says Kronauer and enlarges the gap in the door with his foot.

Tamara goes on crouching on the steps. Kronauer isn’t a threat to her, no one is a threat to her now.

Sleep, how lovely it would be to go to sleep here on the steps
.

“… dead?”

Tamara gives a start; for a second she was gone, submerged.

“What?”

“Is he dead?”

Tamara shakes her head.

“I don’t think so.”

Kronauer holds his bound hands out to Tamara.

“Could you—”

“What’ll happen to him now?”

“Is that a loaded question?”

“No, it’s not a loaded question.”

“He’ll be arrested, he’ll be sentenced, he’ll end up in jail.”

“End of story?”

“End of story.”

Tamara stands up.

Wrong, that’s wrong
.

“I don’t think that’s right,” she says and aims the pistol at Kronauer. “Take two steps back please.”

“That’s not necessary now,” says Kronauer.

“I don’t want him to go to jail.”

“You can’t just let him go, don’t be ridiculous!”

“Two steps back,” Tamara commands.

Kronauer retreats, he doesn’t understand what’s going on.
And I don’t want him to
, Tamara thinks and points with her free hand at the cellar window.

“You see those windows? You can do it.”

Then she reaches for the cellar door and slams it shut with a crash. She turns the key and leaves it in the lock. Then she sits back down on the steps and doesn’t expect Kronauer to hammer against the door. If she’s being honest, she didn’t expect much from the police.