‘Until the end?’
What end? she wanted to ask. Mine? Yours?
But she swallowed all her questions and took a deep breath. So deep it was as if she was scared it might be her last. ‘Yes. Until the end.’
He cut through the cable tie with the help of a Stanley knife, a task which took some time as he only had the two remaining digits on his left hand to work with. In his right hand, he was holding the gun against her head. Beatrice felt the steel pressing against a spot behind her ear. She didn’t move, taking shallow breaths and fully expecting the knife to slip and plunge into her palm, but he worked slowly and carefully until her hands were freed. The cable tie clung to the wounds on her right wrist. Beatrice pulled it off carefully, having to make several attempts as her fingers were completely numb.
Sigart stepped to the side, withdrawing the gun from her head. ‘Tell me when you can grip things properly again,’ he said, ‘because you’ll be responsible for the torch.’
‘Okay.’ Beatrice bent and stretched her fingers, sensation gradually returning amidst stabbing pain. She massaged one hand with the other and avoided looking at her raw, grazed wrists, concentrating instead on Sigart and his weapon. If I quickly duck away, push him over or pick up the table and throw it at him…
It was too risky. She wouldn’t be able to take him by surprise. The concentration with which his gaze was fixed on her didn’t falter for even a second.
Once her fingers felt as though they almost belonged to her body again, Beatrice nodded at Sigart. ‘I’m okay now.’
‘Good. If you turn around, you’ll see a woollen blanket in the corner, and a torch on top of it. Take the torch and go up the steps ahead of me.’
It was an LED torch with black aluminium casing. It wasn’t heavy and hardly qualified as a weapon. But what if I blind him with the light?
They were just wild thoughts. She wouldn’t do anything unless she could be sure she would succeed in incapacitating him.
Holding the torch in one hand, she used the other to open the hatch door. Cool night air rushed towards her.
Turn the light off and run. But she dismissed that thought immediately, too. She wouldn’t have a chance on this terrain in the darkness; she wouldn’t be able to orientate herself, while Sigart knew every tree and every stone.
‘It’s hard to believe, isn’t it?’ she heard him say behind her. ‘So much open space all around, and yet it’s still a prison.’
She knew he didn’t just mean for her. ‘What happens now?’ she asked. The beam of the torch moved across tree trunks and bushes, searching for the path from which help would come. If it came.
‘Now let’s fill in the gaps in your knowledge. Do you remember where you found the cache? The tin with the shining five on it?’
‘Yes.’ She pointed the torch at the wooden shed. Unlike last time, today it was open. Inside it lay something low, something stony.
‘The cache was originally hidden there. In the well, you see? The tin had wire wrapped around it and had been lowered almost two metres deep into the well. That’s why it wasn’t destroyed by the fire.’ Sigart came over to stand next to Beatrice, but not near enough for her to be able to surprise and overpower him. ‘On the twelfth of July, Nora Papenberg, Herbert Liebscher, Christoph Beil, Melanie Dalamasso and Rudolf Estermann were here shortly before six in the evening. It was a hot day, and the weeks leading up to it had been very warm. All five of them were tired, but in good spirits and intent on finding the cache. Nora showed them all the nooks and crannies and trees they had already searched in vain, including the shed surrounding the well, which was the first thing to catch the eye. But only now, together, did they find the cache hidden down it on the wire. They all laughed, happy to have finally found it. Dalamasso took out some snacks and shared apples and pretzels with the others. We’re on safe ground so far, for all their stories are unanimous up to this point. Now, shine the torch a little further to the left.’
She did what he said, but there was nothing there except dense shrubbery, raspberry bushes, twines and the stinging nettles she had already made her acquaintance with.
‘From now on their accounts differ a little, but the main point is that someone had a full hip flask with them. Beil said it was Estermann, while Estermann said it was Beil. The only thing they agreed on was the contents: pear schnapps. They sat right where you’re pointing the torch, Beatrice. Except back then there was a meadow, with bluebells, marguerites and wild dianthus. Then Lukas came running out of the forest.’
‘Your son.’
‘Yes. Beil said he had a bow and arrow with him, and that he was covered in dirt. They chatted with him for a bit, apparently. He told them he was on holiday here, that his parents had just argued and that’s why he wanted to go hunting in the forest instead. Then Estermann offered him a sip from his hip flask.’
Sigart’s voice had become quieter now, then he cleared his throat and continued in a normal tone. ‘Estermann said it was Beil, of course. The others may not have noticed, because they were sitting some distance away, although Papenberg said she remembered the conversation between Lukas and the two men getting a little loud. In the end, he drank some and then ran back to the cabin.’
Beatrice pictured Jakob in Lukas’s place, then hastily shook away the image.
‘Miriam, my wife – she was a wonderful woman. But when she got angry she was so unpredictable. I had already annoyed her a lot that day, and then Lukas came in the door and told her some man had just given him alcohol… so you can imagine how she reacted. Papenberg described what happened next very precisely: she said Miriam came storming out of the cabin, shouted at Estermann, grabbed the flask from his hand and emptied the contents onto the grass.’
Had Sigart’s attention waned? He seemed to be lost in his thoughts, in the images that his story was summoning up, but at the same time he reacted immediately to every one of Beatrice’s movements, and still had the gun pointed at her. She decided to wait.
‘Estermann didn’t take Miriam’s outburst very well. He screamed back at her, saying that she’d stolen his property and would have to replace it. Fifty euros and they could call it quits. Miriam said the only thing he would get from her was a report to the police for bodily harm, for giving alcohol to a child.’
All Beatrice could see in the beam of the torchlight were the thin, swaying branches of a young spruce, but the scene was almost tangible. He isn’t a nice man, Graciella Estermann had said.
‘Threatening him with the police was Miriam’s big mistake,’ Sigart continued. ‘She went back into the cabin and he jumped up and followed her. The others may have tried to placate him. Beil and Liebscher both told me they tried to hold him back, but apparently Estermann just shoved them aside. He ripped the door open, turned the cabin upside down, and only came out once he had found Miriam’s mobile. “You’re not reporting anyone,” he said, smashing the phone up with a rock. That was something else that everyone remembered very clearly.’
Almost without realising, and without prompting any protest from Sigart, Beatrice had turned around, pointing the torch at the place where the cabin used to be.
‘By now the children were crying, all three of them. While Christoph Beil, the only one who knew Estermann a little, tried to calm him down, Melanie Dalamasso spoke to Hanna and Lukas, trying to sing them a song, but she was shaking all over. Miriam was busy with Oskar, who was screaming his head off. Liebscher and Papenberg kept their distance – could you please shine the light to the left? A little more? That’s it, thank you. Round about there.’