The Kills: Sutler, the Massive, the Kill, and the Hit (128 page)

‘So?’

The possibility that Mattaus doesn’t quite understand the infringement, or his predicament, isn’t an option. The man grasps for something, explains, falteringly: ‘We’re taking it easy at the moment. We’re both out of relationships, and because we’re both, you know, neither of us is new at this, and we really want to give it a chance, a better chance by not rushing.’

‘Rushing?’ Isa can’t fathom the idea.

‘We’re taking this slowly, you know.’ Mattaus has to clear his throat, and in a feeble voice admits, ‘We just want to give this the best chance possible.’

Isa pushes her chair back and says she’s getting some water. Rike waits a beat then says, ‘There’s water on the table.’

‘I want fresh water.’

Mattaus and Henning face each other. Henning stares with unblinking force.

Isa runs the tap. There’s cold water in the fridge, bottled water, which Rike takes out. They stand with their backs to the table.

‘Ice. There’s ice.’ Isa points without looking up from the sink. ‘I said, I want ice.’

There is, to Rike’s surprise, real disappointment in her sister’s face. ‘He’s thrown over Franco for a man who won’t even fuck?’

‘A Russian?’ Rike likes the sound of the word.
Russian
. Loves the idea that this time she isn’t the source of this heavy disappointment. No, Mattaus has surpassed her. Whatever happens next he is always going to hold the prize.

Rike opens the bottle, pours the water into a carafe, Isa repeats, irritated, ‘There’s ice, get some ice,’ but Rike pours the water without regard.

‘You know he’s – it’s probably not deliberate.’

‘You don’t know.’ Isa’s voice begins to rise. ‘This isn’t about
appearances
. This isn’t about some
inconvenience
. There’s a situation here and he’s sitting at our table with no idea about what’s coming out of his mouth and who he is speaking with.’

Things at the table aren’t going well. Henning is pressing Mattaus for details. Who is this man? How did they meet? Does he have any idea about the kind of work Henning does? Has he any conception of how ridiculous this will make him appear if the news gets out?

Mattaus is dumbfounded, and gabbles for breath. He pours out their history. They met at a nightclub, the Nightingale. No, not the one in Limassol – all right, yes it was. And it hasn’t been very long.

‘I knew this would happen. It’s none of your business.’ He struggles to justify himself.

‘That isn’t how this works.’ Henning stubs his forefinger on the table.

Isa turns from the sink. Mouth open. A thought taking shape. ‘If this isn’t about fucking then what is it about?’

Mattaus now looks slapped and he half stands.

‘It’s all about fucking with you. So if that isn’t happening, what is it about? Drugs? It is isn’t it? You met him at a club.’

The clarity of this idea strikes them all with its rightness, and opens up yet more consequences.

Rike watches in wonderment as the evening flowers in front of her.

‘He’s not an architect or a decorator. He works for one of the clubs. He works for the Nightingale.’

Henning gives a small whimper. This isn’t possible, he picks up his napkin, drops it for effect (not a great effect, it’s all he has to hand).

Mattaus stands up and says he’s going.

‘No. I don’t think so. You’re not going.’

Mattaus freezes.

‘You aren’t going anywhere. I need to know exactly what you’re doing. Is she right? Are you doing drugs?’

Mattaus won’t answer.

‘Tell me who he is, this Olexei?’

Again, no answer.

‘Are you going to the Nightingale? Are you going to the clubs? Are you associating with the Russians who own those clubs?’

Mattaus won’t answer, instead he looks to Rike for some kind of rescue.

Rike doesn’t move a muscle.

Henning rises from his seat and now he’s shouting. ‘Do you know anything about these people? Do you know who you are associating with? Have you got any fucking idea about what you’re doing? About the effect of what you are doing and what it means to me – to us?’

Whatever satisfaction Rike was enjoying is wiped away by her understanding that this actually is an issue. Henning, who has never shouted, not to her knowledge, who holds his silences as his key weapon, is now exceptionally angry, his face red, his throat swollen, his voice bristling with effort. This is not a small misstep. Mattaus has seriously fucked up.

‘How long have you been here?’

Mattaus scrambles for excuses, but can’t minimize the trouble he’s causing, the truth, obviously, is the only route. ‘I’ve been back and forth.’

‘Back and forth?’ Isa doesn’t understand. ‘For how long?’

‘Since March.’ He closes his eyes. ‘February. No. Yes. Early February.’

‘You were here before we arrived? I don’t understand. Why you didn’t tell us?’

‘Franco kicked me out. January. At the end of January. I came here for a break. I’ve been back and forward.’

Henning, seated again, has his head in his hands. ‘These people are like the Mafia. Do you know what you are involved with? Do you know what they do?’

‘It’s not like that.’ For a moment it looks like Mattaus might start to laugh.

‘Drugs. Prostitution. He says it’s not like that? Tell me, Mattaus, tell me what it’s like. Tell me something I don’t know about these people. You’ve made friends with the people who run the nightclubs on this island and you’re going to tell me that you all hold hands and go out for pizza, you get a movie when the mood takes you? You sit and you talk about your favourite films? You talk about spa treatments? These people are thugs, Mattaus. They are involved in people-trafficking, in drugs. And you have a boyfriend you’re taking things easy with? On what planet is this possible, Mattaus?’ Henning shakes his head, can’t stop his exasperation. ‘What did you think would happen tonight? Why did you come? Why now? What point did you want to make?’ A small realization comes to him. ‘Or is there something else? You have something else to say, Mattaus? You have some other reason for coming here?’

‘No.’

‘You always have a reason. For everything you do there’s a reason – what is it now?’

‘No.’

‘I need to know where you’re staying. You can’t see these people any more.’

When Mattaus starts to protest Henning holds up his hand. ‘You’ve done enough,’ he says.

Rike clears the dishes, throws out the pasta and pours the sauce into a container. Isa sits on her own, the light from the kitchen dresses the room with long shadows.

‘I’ve never seen him like that.’

‘Henning.’

‘I think Mattaus knew what was going to happen. I think he came here knowing what to expect.’

Rike doubts that Mattaus had thought this through. The man reacts to situations when and as they occur, why would he ever think ahead?

With the meal cleared away Rike warms two glasses of milk and sits with her sister.

‘What will Henning do?’

‘He’ll find out about the boyfriend. It might not be that bad.’ Isa draws her hand across her brow. ‘Who am I kidding? He’s been with these people, partying, taking drugs. He doesn’t care who they are. This Olexei sounds like a new arrival, but it looks like he’s spent months with a whole group. It isn’t good.’

‘And Mattaus?’

‘He can’t stay. The embassy will want him to leave.’

‘And Henning?’

‘It’s just the wrong time for all of this. Anything that potentially compromises him, anything that looks out of order, makes his work more difficult. If Udo gets any word of this then it’s over. We’ll be returned to Germany. It will all be over. There will be no possibility of returning to Damascus.’

Rike cups the glass in her hands and nods. ‘Do you think he has a problem?’

‘With drugs?’ Isa shakes her head. ‘He’s such a fucking tourist.’ Isa picks up her drink. ‘How old is he now? Thirty-one? Thirty-two? Time is running out for him and he knows it. He can’t behave like this.’

‘I feel sorry for Franco.’

‘Franco was no angel. He knew what he was getting.’

A silence falls between them. Isa exhausted but unwilling to go to bed.

Living with Mattaus and Franco, close to the end of her stay, Rike had woken with the sound of them returning from a club. Two in the morning, then three. Someone in the kitchen, and she had come out to find Franco leaning against the cabinets, arms folded. The door to their bedroom closed. And then the painful realization that they had met someone at the club and brought them home. It was difficult to understand the set-up, but Franco wasn’t pleased. Until this point they had lived formal lives with each other, but now, on the understanding that she was leaving, she sensed that they were returning to a different life, to old and established routines.

When she left, it was Franco, not Mattaus, who said that he would miss her.

The evening, being so exceptionally strange, has left Rike with the sense that she’s permeable. She sits in the chair, legs tucked under her, the glass of milk in her hand, and senses the night air and the distance between herself and her sister, the glass, the small square garden outside, and the wall, aware that beyond this is a void. The apartment could be floating, it could be free. They could be in this box and be anywhere in the world, even above it.

7.2

At three in the morning Rike wakes again. There’s little point in attempting to sleep. She slips into the lounge and checks her email. Included is a message from
Mannfunktionprojekt
.

She retrieves a pass code for the final piece in an email titled ‘with love’. The date – the beginning of the month – means that this was not actually the final piece, but the second. When she enters the site she’s prompted to fill in her name, her age, her email address, and generate a password. A small warning comes up: This Contains Adult Material.

Enter / Return to Site. Rike clicks
Enter
.

Members / Guests. She clicks
Members
and is prompted to enter her password.

The entire screen becomes black.

‘With Someone You Love’ comes up as a title, and then underneath a second title: ‘With Someone You Do Not Love’. Both are options which can be clicked.

Isa comes out of the bedroom an hour later.

‘He can’t sleep either,’ she says. ‘So I can’t sleep. What are you watching?’ Isa leans over the couch as Rike automatically covers the screen, expecting Isa to become angry.

‘It’s art.’

‘Art?’ Isa peels back her sister’s hand. ‘You’re watching porn? Of all nights? Now I have to worry about you?’ She comes around the couch and sits beside her sister.

‘It’s art.’

‘So move your hand away.’

‘I’m not Mattaus.’

‘Let’s not go there.’

‘It’s that group. You liked the last one. It’s another video, a series of videos.’

Isa picks the computer from Rike’s lap. She clicks to restart the movie. After a moment she moves the laptop so they can both see the screen. ‘You dirty girl,’ then clicking through the options asks Rike which one she wants to watch: with love, or without?

Isa becomes serious once they have watched both films.

‘It’s interesting. I mean I don’t know if it’s art, but it’s interesting. You think at some level it’s all the same. Fucking, I mean. It’s just fucking after all.’

Rike rolls her eyes. That’s something Mattaus would say.

‘Not exactly what you’d call
hot
though, is it?’

‘I don’t think it’s supposed to be.’

‘You know if Henning was ever with anyone else, I think the only way I could make it through would be to think that whoever he was with, it wouldn’t be the same, it would be something different. That when he’s with me it’s more, I don’t know,
intended
. I don’t know. Men say it doesn’t mean anything, you know, when they mess up. That’s the standard line.’

‘It’s not the same.’

Isa gives a short laugh. ‘You know. It kind of
is
. I mean that’s where it gets to. Once or twice maybe it’s something special, but you have these habits, you know. You spend all of your time thinking about it when it doesn’t happen, and then, when it does, it’s a function. Like having a good shit, I mean how many different ways can you have a good shit? I’m being serious.’

The sisters sit in silence.

‘You think we’re the only animal that cares about this?’ Isa points to the yard. ‘You think those cats care? You think other animals watch each other go at it and it does something for them?’

‘Like cat-porn.’

Isa turns to Rike and they both laugh, and try to keep quiet to not disturb Henning, but laughing hard.

‘So when did you last do it?’

‘You’re asking me?’

‘Of course I’m asking.’

Rike gives a short involuntary eyes-closed shrug.

‘Really? That long?’

‘What? No. It’s not been that long.’

‘So this year. We’re talking this year? You’ve had sex this year? Who with?’

‘I’m not telling you. We’re not discussing this.’

‘I bet you haven’t. You like those farm boys, that’s your problem.’

‘I don’t like farm boys. You like farm boys.’

‘I do. Very much. But so do you. You never go for them though. You always end up with the complicated ones. The spoiled ones. The ones who are too shy, who need written permission, notes from their mothers. That’s your whole problem, you don’t go for what you want.’

Rike considers returning to bed. ‘This isn’t fair. You don’t know what it’s like. You’re married now. It’s all different.’

‘It’s true though. Look at them. There was that French boy.’

‘Don’t.’

‘And he really liked you. I still don’t understand what your problem was. See. I know you like him. I’m talking about Tomas.’

‘I don’t like him.’

‘Yes. You do. I can tell.’

‘I don’t. I’m his teacher.’

‘You keep saying that like it’s a problem. You’re adults. And men always like teachers. Teachers and librarians. Ask Henning.’

‘I don’t like him. I don’t know him. He doesn’t have the first idea about me.’

‘I bet he sits close. I bet he leans forward and asks you questions. I bet he whispers so you have to get close. He’s asked you to his house. See. It’s not like you’re in a classroom. You’re already in the vicinity.’