If only Gavin and his people were already here! But how should I react once they were? And, more important—how will these men react? Won’t they simply start shooting when the Australians suddenly storm the warehouse?
“Ah, Erik. You’re here.” Gabor raises his arm, looks demonstratively at his watch. “And almost on time, as well. I hope you were sensible enough not to inform the police. My colleagues have the warehouse surrounded; they’ll notice any approaching special response units right away. And if that happens, we’ll execute both of you on the spot.”
There are still about thirty feet between us. I’d focused all my attention on Gabor and Joanna, so it’s only in this moment that I notice the old man. He’s behind Gabor, seemingly supporting himself on a walking stick. But he’s not hunched over, and doesn’t show even the slightest sign of frailty. Given his firm posture, the walking stick seems like an ineffective prop, one used only to feign weakness.
And it’s from the walking stick that I recognize him. The man I saw in Gabor’s lobby. Back then I’d barely paid any attention to him, and he’d paid even less to me. Now, though, he’s looking at me, maybe he even recognizes me, but there’s no trace of human interest in his gaze. His eyes are cold and emotionless, in a way that makes my hair stand on end. An aura of power surrounds the man, and it would probably be the same even if he were wearing rags.
I stop and turn to face Joanna. I see the fear in her eyes. Tear my gaze away from her and face Gabor.
“Are you going to tell me the meaning of all of this? I have no idea what you’re playing at here, but I’d very much like to understand why you tried to kill me. And why you kidnapped Joanna. What have we got to do with your scheming, what did we ever do to you? Or what did I do to you?”
“Well,” Gabor begins, but the old man interrupts him right away: “Hold your tongue.”
His tone is just as emotionless as his eyes were when he looked at me just now. It doesn’t sound agitated in the least, it’s almost casual, and yet something resonates within it, something that scares me even more than the guns pointing at me.
“I will shed some light on the darkness of your ignorance, young man. Let me put it like this—you were in the wrong place at the wrong time. A twist of fate, one for which you are not even to blame. What’s all the more tragic now is that you and Frau Berrigan will have to lay your heads on the block because of another person’s bungling carelessness.”
The man only looks at Gabor for a mere two seconds, but there’s more contempt in his gaze than can be put into words.
He takes a few steps toward me, stops when he’s about two yards away. I’m aware of the odor emanating from him despite the distance between us. He smells old.
“Herr Thieben, what I’d like you to tell me now is the name of the woman who paid your fiancée a visit at the hotel. Although, you were probably there yourself the entire time, while we all thought you were dead.” There’s that look at Gabor again.
I glance over at Joanna, who, despite the hand over her mouth, manages to shake her head, her eyes wide. Do everything the man says, Gavin told me. But he also told me to stall them. I shrug. “I don’t know who you’re talking about. And I’m not saying anything while that man has his hand over Joanna’s mouth.”
A gesture from the old man, barely noticeable, makes the man holding Joanna lower his hand. And yet the old man didn’t even look at him as he made the gesture.
“Erik, why did you come here?” The words burst out of Joanna. “They’re going to kill us both. You realize that, don’t you?”
“I’m afraid your fiancée is right, Herr Thieben, we’re going to have to kill the two of you, one way or another. What she doesn’t know, however, is the following. I’m going to ask you again in a second who that woman was. If you don’t answer, or if you give me the wrong answer, I’ll have one of my men cut off one of your fiancée’s fingers. Then I’ll ask you the same question again. Being a computer specialist, I’m sure you’ll have calculated by now it will take us about fifteen minutes to get to the last finger. Let’s say twenty, as I’m certain we’ll have to take action from time to time to make sure Frau Berrigan regains consciousness.”
I feel sick to my stomach.
“Then we’ll take off her shoes and ask the same question another ten times; that should take another twenty minutes. So I think it should suffice if I tell you how we’ll proceed from there in about forty minutes’ time.”
Without waiting for me to react, the old man turns and nods at a group of three men who are leaning against some large crates off to the side. The three spring up and walk toward a pilot’s bag a few feet away from them on the floor.
“Now, Herr Thieben, I’m going to ask you for the first time. What’s the name of the woman who came to see you in the hotel?”
“Manuela,” I say without a moment’s hesitation. “The woman’s name is Manuela Reinhard. She’s an old friend of mine.”
Gabor had seen the name Manuela on the screen of Joanna’s phone, but he doesn’t know her last name. Which means that nobody could know that the surname Reinhard isn’t the right one. I had to say something, one way or another.
“Erik!” Joanna screams. “What are you doing?” I admire her for having the nerve, even in this situation, to play along. The old man gives me a nod. “And what is Frau Reinhard’s address?”
I give him the name of a street where a casual acquaintance of mine lives, all the while hoping Gavin and his people will show up here as quickly as possible. These men here are going to check if Ela is in fact registered at the address I gave them. If they check online phone books, I can always claim she doesn’t have a landline in the house.
So they’ll have to drive over there. It will take maybe twenty minutes until they figure out I lied to them. If Gavin hasn’t shown up by then, it’ll get tight. But all will be lost by then anyway.
Gabor is still standing next to the old man, silent, staring daggers at me.
“Where do we go from here?” I ask, deliberately in his direction.
“I’ll tell you in two minutes,” the old man responds in his place.
I don’t understand. “Why two minutes?”
He doesn’t respond, but it isn’t necessary.
I realize that I’ve miscalculated when another young guy with close-cropped hair walks over to us. He’s holding a phone to his ear and speaking into it as he approaches. “Yes, understood,” he says quietly. “And that’s for certain? OK.”
He lowers the hand holding the phone and shakes his head, and the old man raises an eyebrow. “You’ve just forfeited one of your fiancée’s fingers, Herr Thieben. There’s no Manuela Reinhard living at that address, as a good friend at the police department just confirmed for us. Consequently, I would assume that the surname is not correct either.”
“No, that’s … that’s…” I start to say, not even knowing how to end the sentence. But it doesn’t matter, as one of the men steps up to Joanna. He has a pair of shears in his hand.
“No, wait, please,” I say, frantic now. “I’ll tell you the—” But I don’t get any further, because at that very second, the roll-up door explodes.