'That Kortmann has sent his errand boy with a message for Remer,' said Katherina, sitting up. She regretted reacting the way she had, and she crossed her arms so Henning wouldn't notice her hands were still shaking slightly.
Henning nodded. 'I think you're right. If it really was his chauffeur, then there can't be any doubt that Kortmann is involved.' He grabbed the steering wheel with both hands and stared out. 'And you're absolutely sure about this?' he repeated.
'I'm telling you, it was him.'
'Bloody hell.'
'Jon's on his way,' said Katherina, but it was clear that her companion was no longer listening. Instead, Henning sat with his eyes fixed straight ahead, looking at the white Polo and muttering angrily to himself.
'All these years,' he said.
Katherina looked at the section of the building that wasn't hidden behind the two-metre-high hedge surrounding the place. It was a two-storey structure made of red brick with a slate roof. Earlier, when they first arrived, they had slowly driven by so that Henning could read the sign attached to the iron gate that opened on to the property. 'Demetrius School' it said, but neither of them knew what that meant.
A fierce wind had started blowing and the sky above was just as grey as the slate roof of the school, making the dividing line nearly invisible. It almost looked as if the roof had been removed from the building, like on a dolls' house. Katherina wished that she could look down inside the rooms and discover whatever secrets the walls were protecting.
The sound of a car engine starting up tore Katherina out of her reverie.
'Now what?' she said, turning to face Henning, who with a lurch put the car in gear and pulled out of the parking slot.
'I have to talk to him,' he said. 'I'll be damned if he thinks he can make fools of us all.'
'Are you crazy?' But Katherina's protests were drowned out by Henning's curses.
'It's the best chance we have. His bodyguard is here, which means Kortmann must be home alone. What is he going to do? Run us down with his wheelchair?'
'Shouldn't we at least wait for Jon?' said Katherina.
'He's not the one Kortmann has been duping for the past twenty years.'
Katherina could see by Henning's expression that she wouldn't be able to change his mind. He was driving fast and shifting gears ferociously, as if it was the car he wanted to punish.
'Let me at least tell him where we're going,' she said, taking her mobile out of the glove compartment.
Henning merely growled in response.
Katherina couldn't start discussing things with Jon while Henning was within earshot. Just before they rang off, Jon said that he would meet them at Kortmann's villa as soon as he could. In the meantime, she had to try to persuade Henning to wait.
'What are you actually planning to do once we get there?' asked Katherina after they'd been driving for several minutes without speaking.
'I want to make him tell me the truth.'
'And if he refuses?'
Henning cast a swift glance in her direction and she thought she saw a trace of doubt in his eyes.
'He won't do that,' he said firmly. 'Besides, I'll be able to tell the truth by looking at him. I've known him almost my whole life.'
'But he's been lying to you all this time,' Katherina pointed out. 'What's going to stop him from continuing to lie?'
Henning didn't answer, but his expression was no longer as fierce, and he had started driving more slowly.
As they approached Kortmann's villa, it started to rain. At first big, heavy drops hammered against the car's windscreen and roof at a slow, intermittent pace. But very quickly the rain started pouring down at such a rapid rate that it sounded like static. The windscreen wipers soon could not keep up, and Henning had to slow down and lean forward to be able to see where he was driving. In a matter of seconds the temperature inside the car dropped several degrees. Katherina shivered.
'The gate!' cried Henning. 'It's open.'
Katherina peered through the sheet of water covering the windscreen. Henning was right. The big wrought-iron gate to Kortmann's property stood open, just wide enough for a car to drive through. They exchanged glances. Henning looked worried.
'I've never seen this before,' he said, driving through the gate. The parking spaces in front of the house were empty. Henning drove as close to the main entrance as he could. After he switched off the engine, they sat there for a moment, listening to the rain.
'It doesn't look like it's going to stop any time soon,' said Henning, reaching for the door handle. 'Are you coming?'
Katherina nodded. They both jumped out and ran for the oak door. A little overhang above the entrance offered some shelter, but after running the few metres from the car they were almost soaked through. Henning pressed the doorbell, and they could hear a muted ringing from inside. They waited half a minute, and then Henning pressed the bell again, this time holding it down longer. Katherina hoped that Kortmann wasn't home after all so they could avoid this impromptu confrontation and disappear without anyone knowing that they'd even been here.
'He's probably upstairs,' said Henning, pressing the bell for another ten seconds. 'He'd better not think we're just going to drive away.'
There was still no response from inside the house and Henning started pounding on the front door with his fist.
'Maybe he's really not home,' Katherina suggested. 'His chauffeur could have driven him somewhere before he went off to meet Remer.'
Henning shook his head.
'He's in there,' he said. 'I can feel it. Come on, we'll take the lift.'
He raced off through the rain and Katherina reluctantly followed. Together they dashed round the house to the lift tower. Even from some distance away, they could hear the rain drumming relentlessly on the huge metal structure. They were drenched by the time they reached the tower door, which Henning yanked open so they could throw themselves inside and get out of the rain.
'What bloody awful weather,' he exclaimed, shaking his head like a dog shaking water off his fur. The floor was splotched with the rain dripping off their clothes.
Inside the tower the sound of the rain was even louder, an uninterrupted hammering on the metal hull that drowned out everything else. Katherina was expecting at any second to hear Kortmann's voice on the loudspeaker near the door, but it remained silent. Henning found the button to start the lift. The huge gears on both sides began to move, and very slowly the platform rose.
'What's that?'
Henning was looking at the floor, so Katherina did the same. At first she couldn't see what he was talking about, but then she noticed a shadow on the floor that couldn't be coming from either of them. The light source was in the ceiling, and they both looked up at it, seven or eight metres overhead.
A shapeless silhouette directly above them was creating the shadow, but they couldn't tell what it was. The lift continued its ascent, and they slowly got closer. Something was hanging from the ceiling of the lift shaft, and Katherina stepped over to the very edge of the platform to get a better look.
'Oh no,' she said when she realized what it was.
Kortmann's lifeless body hung from the ceiling like a piece of meat wrapped in an expensive suit.
'Oh my God,' exclaimed Henning, as he too stepped over to the edge.
The body was coming inescapably closer even though Henning desperately pressed all the buttons he could find. Kortmann's thin legs slowly slid past, followed by his torso, which seemed to be twisted at a strange angle. His face was turned towards Katherina, and she had to look away as they reached eye level. Kortmann's eyes were open wide and his mouth was contorted into a rigid expression of terror.
When Kortmann's feet struck the floor, his body began tipping towards Katherina. She frantically pushed it away. The corpse weighed virtually nothing but it was completely rigid and it fell towards Henning standing on the opposite side. He leaped out of the way, as if the body carried some sort of disease. The corpse calmly came to rest on the floor of the lift, frozen in an awkward position, like a victim of Vesuvius. As they continued upwards, the rope from which Kortmann had been hanging coiled onto the body like a long piece of spaghetti.