Although she was obviously shaking with fright, she gave me a nasty, challenging, sick grin.
‘Another one?! I don’t believe it! Well, come on then! I’ve tidied myself up a bit for you. I hope the vomit doesn’t bother you. Want to lick it off me? Does that turn you on?’
Her stomach was rising and falling fast, like a dog’s. The harsh, faraway look in her eyes said: I’ll kill you if there’s any way I can do it.
‘Listen, I’m not — ’
‘Here, have some pasta!’
‘I don’t want to do anything to you. I’ve come to get you out of here.’
‘Oh yes? And drag me off where, you bastard?’
I shook my head. ‘I’m from the police. Paolo Magelli, special plainclothes unit. We’ve been after Abakay for some time. I’m sorry we came on the scene so late. Do you have any injuries?’
Her glance was still hard, and she didn’t take her eyes off me for a second, but gradually the madness disappeared from them, making way for distrust. Her folded arms dropped, barely perceptibly, and the tension left her body.
‘Show me your ID.’
‘I’m sorry, we had to move fast and I left my jacket in the car. I’ll show you my ID when we’re down there.’
‘We’re going down to the street?’
‘Of course. I’ll take you home to your parents or wherever you live.’
‘Where’s Erden?’
‘Lying in the front hall. Unconscious. We had to knock him out.’
‘And that fat bastard?’
‘Beside him.’
Marieke stared at me for some time, then unfolded her arms and began massaging her hands, which were probably numb with tension, and looked down at herself.
‘I’d like a glass of water. My throat is sore after all that throwing up.’
‘Did they give you drugs of any kind, or …’
‘No, no, I stuck my finger down my throat. I thought that might turn him off.’
‘Wait a minute.’
I went into the kitchen and ran a glass of tap water. I listened for a moment, in case Marieke was taking her chance to run for it. But when I went back she was still sitting on the bed, now with the bedspread wrapped round her body. Only then did I notice that her lips were swollen.
She drank the whole glass, and said, ‘Thank you.’
‘Would you like to shower before we leave?’
Once again distrust flickered briefly in her eyes. Was this just a trick? Did I simply want her clean and smelling nice before I attacked her?
‘We can go like this if you’d rather. I just thought … well, so that maybe you can forget a bit of what happened here.’
‘I won’t forget it.’
‘Of course not …’ I hesitated. ‘May I ask you a few quick questions?’
She looked at me expressionlessly and then looked away at the window. ‘Okay, and then, yes, I would like to shower after all.’
‘That’s fine.’ I went to the window to open it and let in some fresh air. When I reached for the catch, Marieke said, ‘Forget it.’
The window was specially made: soundproof armoured glass, mirror glass on the outside, with a safety lock. I shook the catch in vain.
‘Why do you think they could leave me alone here?’
I tried to ignore the stench.
‘First, could you tell me your name?’
‘Marieke de Chavannes.’
‘How long were you shut up here, Frau de Chavannes?’
‘Since just now when that fat bastard attacked me.’
‘Judging by your swollen lips you defended yourself.’
‘I did.’
‘And then?’
‘Then Erden was suddenly totally normal again, and he said he’d get something to relax us. After that they locked me in.’
‘When did you realise what they were planning to do to you?’
She looked away and pulled the bedspread more tightly around her shoulders. After a while she said, ‘When that fat bastard leered at me in such a funny way. I tried to run for it. I still thought he was just trying it on, do you see? Between old buddies. That was how Erden introduced him: “Meet my old friend Volker, he wants to get to know you.” So I thought I could just get away quickly, I even went to get my bag.’ She shook her head. ‘And then the fat bastard was after me — incredible!’
‘Was there anyone in this apartment but you, Erden and the fat man?’
‘No. Why?’
‘Just a routine question.’
‘What’s happened to the fat man?’
‘Something’s the matter with his heart. My colleagues are just ringing for an ambulance.’
‘Hopefully he croaks!’
‘Hmm. And Erden?’
‘What do you mean, “and Erden”?’
‘Do you hope he croaks, too?’
She hesitated, opened her mouth and looked inquiringly at me, until her thoughts seemed to go elsewhere, and her eyes still lingered on me as if by chance.
‘I don’t know. He’s so …’ She stopped, and cautiously felt her lips with her fingertips. ‘Until just now we were still friends.’ For a moment she looked as if she might burst into tears, but then she just sighed sadly. ‘We had fun, I don’t know how else to put it.’
‘Hmm-hmm.’
Her glance was sharp again. ‘Not the way you think. You see, Erden’s a photographer. That was what mattered most to both of us. Art. He takes wonderful photos, photos with a political message. One series is called: Frankfurt in the Shadow of the Bank Towers. Portraits of desperate, sad faces, but so beautiful. And there were other pictures of Frankfurt …’ She hesitated, and then added, with a precocious air: ‘The city of little men in suits and roast beef sandwiches.’
‘Did Erden say that?’
‘No, my father.’
‘What else did you talk about?’
‘Oh, how should I know? All sorts of things: music, hip-hop, our origins, what our parents do, what films we like. For instance — and now that I think of it I can’t make it out — we went to see The English Patient together, and he said it was one of his favourite films. Do you know it?’
I knew about ten minutes of the film, and after that I’d gone to sleep on the sofa beside Deborah. ‘I don’t think so.’
‘It’s such a romantic love story! Imagine — and then this!’
‘You said you were friends until now.’
She hesitated, suspicion in her eyes.
‘Yes?’
‘Were you a couple?’
There was a pause. She looked at the sheet in front of her. After a while she said, ‘I’d like to shower now.’
‘Okay, then I’ll leave you alone. You know where everything is. Meanwhile I’ll go and see how my colleagues are getting on with the fat man and Abakay.’
She looked up. ‘I don’t want to see him now.’
‘Of course not. Don’t worry, my colleagues have probably taken him away.’ I nodded to her. ‘Call me when you’re finished.’
She watched me head to the door.
‘Tell me …’
I turned. ‘Yes?’
‘Will my parents hear about this?’
I shook my head. ‘I don’t think you’ll be needed as a witness. Nothing really happened to you — forgive me for putting it like that, but I have to say so from the legal point of view — and there’ll be plenty of other women to give evidence.’
‘You mean there were other girls before me?’ she asked, and I had the disagreeable impression that she’d have liked to be the only one.
‘Frau de Chavannes, in case this isn’t clear to you yet: Abakay is a pimp. And if girls didn’t want to go along with him he pumped them full of heroin. You can forget about art and romantic films. You happened to be lucky.’
And with that little lecture I left her alone. Abakay, Abakay, I thought on my way along the corridor, you really have a knack for it: a little social kitsch, cheap drinks, terrible films, and great big gold rings on your fingers, and the girls come running! I wondered whether Valerie de Chavannes herself had landed in those white satin sheets after a couple of glasses of Aperol.
When I reached the front hall of the apartment Abakay’s mouth was open, he was groaning, and he was clearly about to come back to his senses. I hit him on the head again with the pistol, and then I searched his pockets. In his trouser pocket I found one thousand two hundred euros in hundred and two-hundred-euro notes, along with some fives and tens. Presumably there had been exactly one thousand five hundred there an hour ago. Maybe Abakay had made out that Marieke was a virgin; that would have explained the high price. Then Marieke had been difficult, and to calm her down Abakay had gone to buy heroin with some of the money he had obtained in advance from fat Volker. One thousand two hundred and a few squashed notes were left.