The Kills: Sutler, the Massive, the Kill, and the Hit (137 page)

Hands clasped, Rike makes a deal that she will suffer any kind of indignity just as long as the baby is OK. Just this one thing. I’ll never ask for anything else.

Henning summarizes for Rike. She needs to catch up. ‘Mattaus has disappeared.’ He drops facts. Is clumsy with them. Her brother’s name rings with accusation. As if he’s the cause of this trouble with Isa.

‘Rike. There has been an accident. Last night a man fell from a balcony at the Miramar.’ He allows Rike to digest the information. ‘OK? The man who fell was Mattaus’s boyfriend. They found Mattaus’s phone in the same room. They’ve only just traced it.’

Rike isn’t sure how to take this. She wants to know what happened to Mattaus’s boyfriend.

‘You brought that book?’ Henning asks, as if this is insensitive. Another connection to Mattaus they just don’t need. Rike holds it up as if she intends to read it out loud or swear an oath. ‘The man fell seven floors. He hit the poolside.’

Rike looks at the book and says, ‘Oh.’

Rike isn’t allowed to speak with Isa, every time she approaches the booth curtains are drawn and she is asked to wait. After an hour Isa is moved to a private room with brisk efficient fuss. Nurses surround the trolley and Rike can’t see her sister, just bare feet, just hair. If she could see Isa she would know how serious this is.
It’s just a little spotting. She needs a little rest
. Unconvincing platitudes and little theories. A little bed rest at the worst of times. Rike repeats her deal: let the baby be OK. If anything bad needs to happen, let it happen to me.

She starts to add clauses when Udo arrives. Anything can happen as long as the baby
and Isa
are OK. OK means no complications. OK means everything returns to how it was
pre
-spotting. Assuming that everything was OK then, and this isn’t the result of some condition, of some other trouble. If she thinks about it Rike isn’t sure what
OK
means. Baby. Isa. Mattaus. Lexi. None of these people are OK. Tomas Berens, most certainly, is not OK.

Udo confronts Henning, Rike can’t prevent him. He wants to know more about Mattaus’s dealings with the Russians. Rike is asked to move away; instead she sits down close by. She can’t believe he would challenge Henning at this time, in this place. The conversation is taken to a corner. Once Udo stops haranguing, almost shouting, with bad and tight gestures, they both become silent and appear to sulk. Udo recaps the information. Fills in the blanks.

‘Were they a couple?’

‘I think so. They haven’t known each other long.’

‘How long is
not long
?’

Henning looks to Rike for support and they both agree that
not long
possibly means two months, maybe even a little longer. They barter dates, slowly admit to the facts as they understand them. Is this really the right time? Rike wants to take the man aside, push him down some stairs.

Udo makes a show about counting the weeks. Fingers out.

Henning crosses his arms and clenches his fists. ‘It’s not that long.’

How could this be worse for Henning? A pregnancy – so close to the due date – concluding with
spotting
, an errant brother-in-law, and now a manager who wields immeasurable influence over his future. Henning doesn’t deserve to be cornered like this. Add Tomas to this mess. Tomas is a falling piano, a random surprise from the sky. Just when you need it.

‘And how long have you known?’

‘Saturday. He came to dinner and told us, and since then he hasn’t been in touch. Look. I can’t think about this now.’

The men stand with their arms folded, mouths pursed. Rike sits and faces the corridor, waits for news about Isa. Hasn’t she expected this? Wasn’t this, more or less, what she fretted about? And while she couldn’t have anticipated the accompanying troubles (Mattaus. Tomas. Lexi), didn’t she always know something would go wrong? Udo, though, there’s no accounting for Udo’s lack of timing and tact.

She knows enough not to say anything. Not even a hint.

Instead they wait for news, with an occasional expression from Udo. ‘You don’t tell me this – I had no idea? I find out now?’

Henning, summoned by a doctor, leaves Rike with Udo. As he walks away the doctor talks. If the baby is in distress they will induce. The situation isn’t so serious, he advises (an arm now on Henning’s shoulder), he just wants Henning to understand the possibilities. To be prepared to make choices. These aren’t little things any more.

Udo wants to talk. Rike can’t think about an unborn child in distress. Can’t imagine what this really means. She doesn’t like the organized quiet of the waiting room. She doesn’t like the word
spotting
. Instead it’s easier to focus on Udo.

Rike opens the conversation by saying she hopes Henning returns soon with news – and adds: ‘So what happened with – what was his name?’ She can’t look at the man. ‘What happened with the Russian? How did he fall?’

Udo answers so slowly he blinks between words. ‘We don’t properly know.’

This isn’t unusual. Udo explains. Drunk guests (Brits, almost always), convinced by the proximity of the pool to their balcony, take the plunge and commit themselves either to death or a lifetime of feeding tubes and bed baths. There’s actually a procedure for closing off the pool and drawing the blinds in the bar and reception every time this happens, it’s that frequent.

Udo draws an expression which implies that this a little tiresome. It’s happened a good number of times. It isn’t unusual.

‘So it’s not exactly
suspicious
, then?’

Udo again makes the same broad-mouthed shrug that says this is of interest, he supposes, but little concern. ‘If your brother hadn’t disappeared, then this would all be dealt with. It would be over. It’s the
connection
we have to worry about.’

‘I don’t know what that means?’

‘It means we have to find him.’

‘It won’t be hard. He’s no criminal. He’ll be clueless.’ Rike tucks her hands under her thighs. It isn’t that she doesn’t trust herself, but the idea that she would like to slap Udo – not particularly hard – is growing louder in volume. ‘Is he in serious trouble?’

‘He ran away from an incident, which is a criminal offence. Yes, it’s serious. Until we know what happened more clearly it’s very serious.’

‘But, is it? Technically, you don’t know if he’s run away or not. You only know his phone was in the room.’

‘We need to speak with him.’ Udo can’t help but sneer. It isn’t that this is idiocy, this sneer suggests, just pedantic conjecture. He attempts to be polite. ‘You’re teaching? Henning said.’

‘I was,’ she gives a deliberate, insincere smile, ‘but I’m going to quit. My student has been lying to me.’ She likes saying this to him, just to open up the spite. She’s quitting because it’s all too complicated. She’s had enough. Lying is such a masculine weakness. It didn’t work out with Tomas Berens, so she isn’t going to make any effort.

‘Lying?’ Udo wipes a finger across his upper lip. He isn’t particularly listening.

She holds out the book. ‘Telling me stories from this book. Like they were his stories.’

‘Good stories?’

‘Lies.’

‘When did you last see your brother?’

‘The same time as Henning. The same meal.’ Rike wants to explain about the book, she’d like to speak with someone about Tomas (not Henning, certainly not Isa) without automatically sparking an argument. It might help to work through what has happened. ‘Mattaus gave me this book.’

‘Sorry?’

‘Mattaus. He said he recognized the name of the man I’m teaching. And then he arranged for someone to give me this book. Yesterday, so I think he must still be in Cyprus.’

Udo makes a droll double-take. ‘You didn’t see him – but he gave you the book?’

‘He had someone deliver it to me. A boy. Russian. I think a friend of his . . .’ She can’t figure out the word, not
partner
, not
boyfriend
. How close an association did Mattaus have with Lexi? ‘I was so angry I wouldn’t take it from him. So the boy delivered it to Isa. He took it to the apartment.’

‘The club manager? The man who fell?’

‘No. A boy. A young boy. He said he had to deliver the book right into my hands.’

Udo wants to see the book. Now he wants to hear the story. ‘So Mattaus knows this man?’

‘Who? My student? I doubt that he knows him. He said he recognized the name.’

She tells him what has happened. Gives short details: the jealous Christos, the doctor, the doctor’s son. The speech-therapist mother. This is what she’s found so far. Borrowings, situations, and histories. At first, as an overall idea, it doesn’t sound unusual. She set assignments for the man and he stole the material and used it as his own. These are the facts. What’s really so terrible? But that he achieved this in such a bare-faced way starts to sound unhinged. He didn’t even bother to invent anything, he just changed the location.

‘That’s what I don’t understand. I think he expected me to find out.’

With unexpected insight, Udo hits another problem.
Did he believe these stories? Did he believe what he was telling her?

The answer is yes. It has to be. But even so, the basic act is wrong – because stories are good, aren’t they? Stories are how we connect. Evolution isn’t seriously about thumbs but about how we use language – that’s what raises us above dumb animals, right? Language? There’s something Rike just isn’t getting. While every other student wants to connect, Tomas wanted to misconnect. Deceive.

Rike understands that everything is beginning to sound rehearsed.

Udo flicks through the pages, cocks his head when he finds an underlined passage. ‘He said that, about the coffee?
It always tastes better
?’ He holds his finger to the page.

‘Word for word.’ And again, she asks herself, why? To what end? ‘There’s probably more. I can’t bear to read it.’

‘And what did Henning say?’

‘He’s had enough going on, don’t you think?’

Udo, out of niceness, she can’t think of another reason, asks if she wants him to check this out.

‘I can talk with him. Find out what’s going on.’

‘Oh god no. I don’t want to cause trouble.’ Does he think she’s asking for help? The situation offers unending possibilities for humiliation. ‘I just want to forget this. Honestly.’

‘Grooming,’ he says. ‘He was grooming you.’ Then looking up. ‘It’s a technique the Stasi used. If you can’t intimidate someone, if it’s not possible or appropriate, then you befriend them. You give information which isn’t yours, so they know nothing about you.’

Now he thinks she’s stupid. ‘I know plenty about him.’ Rike doesn’t like how defensive she’s sounding.

‘You take a story from somewhere else and use it as your own. This way you give a consistent idea, something formed. It’s harder to detect if you are lying. It’s a quick way to gain someone’s confidence when you want information.’

This is ridiculous. ‘What do I know?’

‘What did you talk about?’

‘We talked about his neighbours. The other people who lived in his building.’

‘That’s what he talked about. But what did you talk about?’

‘I taught him English.’

Udo waves his hand as if this is probably nothing. He’ll visit Tomas Berens. See for himself. ‘I’ll take Henning. We’ll go see this man.’

She asks him not to take Henning, the whole thing has been embarrassing enough. The idea makes her cringe, sending her brother-in-law, in whatever capacity, to check up on a man who has cheated on his homework (if that’s even what you’d call it) just feels juvenile. She can’t think of any aspect of this event which hasn’t been grindingly humiliating. He hasn’t broken any law, and there isn’t any requirement that a student should tell the truth to their tutor. If she thinks about it, the idea that students always tell the truth is a little ridiculous. How many times has she listened, kept herself attentive to the turgid details of an unremarkable life: where people come from, their families, their schools, their childhoods; thousands of unremarkable facts traded as confidences, which seldom hold interest or meaning? Tomas Berens took stories out in the public domain. Stuff to be used.
Grooming?
To what purpose?

She wants to know why. Didn’t he lay the ground first with those banalities, all of that detail about his neighbours? Didn’t he soften her up first?

Udo takes the book and says that he will read it first.

With Isa in hospital the apartment is much too empty. She hankers for Isa’s company, finds the hospital visits unsatisfactory. Yearns to see the black cat, even briefly, but there’s nothing in the garden except fallen fruit, a few scattered lemons.

She takes a phone call from Henning, who hands her over to Udo.

They want to know if Berens made any threats.

‘Threats?’

‘Did he say anything which sounded inappropriate? Anything at all?’

‘He just spoke about the people in the apartments. Then about his assault. All of those stories from the book.’

There’s an inordinate number of drugs in his apartment. Did she know anything about this?

‘Drugs?’

‘Medication. Anti-depressants. Anti-psychotics.’

She knows nothing about this.

Did he say anything about the man in hospital? The man from Syria?

Rike rests her hand on her heart and feels it thumping. She has to think before she answers, not because she doesn’t know the answer, but because the answer will be complex. If she says
yes
, then she is admitting to being indiscreet. And hasn’t she already caused Henning enough trouble? Isn’t her family bothersome enough?

‘Did he mention the man in the hospital?’

She says yes.

Udo is quiet and she has to ask why this matters.

‘I’d better come and speak with you.’

‘What does he say?’

‘He isn’t here.’

11.8

She finds the boy poolside at the Del Mare not the Miramar. Sunlight bounces off the pool, so bright she shies away. Sol stretches across a lounger, wears his sunglasses, and a pair of briefs – a posing pouch – with a picture of a kitten on the front. The kitten is cute, nestled in a ball, big saucer eyes, just adorable, and ridiculous ears. She can’t see why a young man would want to wear something so absurd, so girlish. He turns again to find a comfortable position, and she can see, printed across the seat in a pretty italic script, the words ‘kitty kat’.