“She doesn't exist.”
“Doesn't exist?”
“Impossible to pin down. She vacated her apartment in Stamberg in the middle of January, and nobody knows where she's gone to.”
“You've tried, you say…”
“A bit.” He leaned forward over the table. “That bloody bitch isn't going to get us as well!”
Innings swallowed.
“Have you received any of these music calls?”
Innings shook his head.
“I have,” said Biedersen. “It's a right bastard. But you must have had a letter from the police?”
“This morning,” said Innings. “It looks like you're next.”
It slipped out of him before he could stop it, and he was well aware that the relief he felt for a brief moment was a very transitory phenomenon.
First Biedersen. Then him. That's what was planned.
“You could be right,” said Biedersen. “But don't feel too secure, that's all. We have to put a stop to her-I mean, that's why we're sitting here.”
Innings nodded.
“We've got to get her before she gets us. I take it you're on board?”
“Yes…”
“Are you hesitating?”
“No, no, I'm just wondering what we ought to do.”
“I've already thought that through.”
“You don't say. What do you mean?”
“Like with like. There's a bag under the table, can you feel it?”
Innings felt around with his feet and hit against something next to the wall.
“Yes,” he said.
“Your weapon's in there. You owe me eight hundred for the trouble.”
Innings felt a wave of dizziness envelop him.
“But… er, haven't you thought about… er, another possible alternative?”
Biedersen snorted.
“Huh. What might that be?”
“I don't know…”
Biedersen lit a cigarette. A few seconds passed.
“Shall we go and look for her?” Innings said. “Or just sit here and wait?”
“For Christ's sake!” Biedersen snorted. “We don't even know what she looks like! But if you're prepared to travel to Stamberg and try to get hold of a photo of her, by all means. But how the hell do we know that she's not wearing a wig? And other stuff? You must know how easy it is for a fucking woman to change her appearance!”
Innings nodded.
“It could happen tonight, do you realize that? Or tomorrow. The next person to ring your doorbell could be her. Have you thought of that?”
Innings didn't reply. The waiter came with their food, and they started eating in silence.
“That music…?” said Innings after a while, wiping his mouth.
Biedersen put down his knife and fork.
“Twice,” he said. “Somebody's called a couple of times and hung up when my wife answered. But it's that bloody tune in any case… I can't remember what it's called, but we were playing it all the time. But I suppose I don't need to tell you that-you were pretty sober.”
“I wasn't sober,” said Innings. “You know I wasn't, I'd never do anything like that-”
“All right, all right, we don't need to go through all that again. What was the band called?”
“The Shadows?”
“Yes, that's it. You remember it. I've looked, but I don't seem to have the record anymore.”
“Isn't it possible to trace the phone calls?”
“For God's sake,” said Biedersen. “You don't seem to understand this. Naturally we can bring in the police and get as much bloody protection as we like-I thought we'd agreed not to do that?”
“Okay,” said Innings. “I'm with you on that.”
Biedersen stared hard at him.
“I don't know what your circumstances are,” he said, “but I've got a family, have had for twenty-five years. A wife, three kids, and a grandchild as well. I have my own firm, good friends, business contacts… For Christ's sake, I have a whole world that would collapse like a house of cards! But if you're doubtful, just say so. I can manage this on my own if need be. I just thought it would be beneficial if we collaborated a bit. Shared the responsibility.”
“Yes…”
“If you don't want to play along, just say so.”
Innings shook his head.
“No, I'm with you. Sorry. What do you think we should do?”
Biedersen flung out his hands.
“Maybe just wait,” he said. “Be ready with the gun. You'd hardly need to explain why you acquired it, either-everybody will believe us. A man must have the right to protect his life, for God's sake.”
Innings thought for a moment.
“Yes,” he said. “It would be self-defense, of course.”
Biedersen nodded.
“Sure,” he said. “But we have to keep in touch as well. We have no other allies, and there could come about a situation in which it wouldn't do any harm if there were two of us. We might get wind of her, for instance. Malik and Maasleitner never had a chance, really.”
Innings thought about that.
“How?” he said. “Keeping in touch, I mean.”
Biedersen shrugged.
“Telephone,” he said. “We have to take a chance, anything else would take too long. If we get through, all we need do is to arrange to meet somewhere. If necessary, spell it out… I mean, she must be hanging around us for some time first, and… well, if you notice you're being followed by a woman, all you need to do is phone.”
“It takes two hours to drive up to where you live, is that right?”
“About that,” said Biedersen. “An hour and three quarters if you're lucky. Yes, it might well be my turn next, so you can stand by to set off.”
Innings nodded. They continued eating in silence. Toasted each other without speaking, and when Innings swallowed the cold beer, he again felt a moment of dizziness. Carefully, he placed his foot on the bag with the ominous contents, and wondered how on earth he would be able to explain something like that to Ulrike.
A gun.
If he was forced to use it, he'd have to tell her the same story he told the police, of course-she would naturally be upset, but his precaution would have been proved to be justified, so why the hell should there be any reason to think otherwise?
But for the time being he decided to keep its existence a secret. That would be the easiest way.
And hope he would never have to use it.
Rely on Biedersen to do his duty.
“I must pay you,” he said. “I don't think I've got as much as eight hundred on me, though…”
“All in good time,” said Biedersen. “If we can take care of this lunatic, we'll settle what we owe as well.”
Innings nodded, and they sat quietly for a while.
“There's one thing I've been thinking about, and that bothers me a bit,” said Biedersen, when they had been served with coffee and each lit a cigarette. “She's behaved in exactly the same way twice now. Surely she can't be so bloody stupid as to do so again?”
No, Innings thought as he left the restaurant five minutes after Biedersen. That's right. Surely she can't be as stupid as that.
22
The persistent cold-in combination with the occasional beer and too many hot toddies during recent days-meant that it didn't turn out to be much of a match. Perhaps also an accumulated and unsatisfied need for more sleep played a role as well.
In any case, during the third set Münster toyed with the idea of changing hands and playing with his left for a few games; things were not normally as bad as that. However, he knew that if he did so it could be interpreted as an insult, and so he refrained.
Be that as it may, the final scores were 15-5, 15-5, 15-3, and afterward the chief inspector looked as if he needed to be placed on a respirator as quickly as possible.
“I must buy a new racket,” he croaked. “There's no spring left in this old mallet.”
Münster had nothing to say about that, and they made their way slowly to the changing rooms.
After a shower, a change of clothes, and a walk up the stairs to the reception area of the badminton hall, Van Veeteren suddenly felt that he was incapable of staggering as far as his car unless they paused for a beer in the café.