"Okay, Helge, what are you up to?"
"I'm coming to you, man. I've got a full trunk. Rifle, pistol, ammunition. And half a boar. I'm coming to Cologne."
Ibby got upset, opened her eyes and waved Hannes hectically with negative gestures. She nudged Hannes several times, meant it wasn't a good idea.
"Hold on a second, Helge. Ibby, what do you mean?"
Ibby waved off. Hannes had the impression that Ibby resigned. She slumped down a little and closed her eyes.
"Who's Ibby?" Helge wanted to know.
"This is my girlfriend."
"Funny name."
"Okay, when will you be here?"
"I'm already here. I'm standing at your door. Will you open the door?"
"Yes, man, I'll get it."
Hannes got up, looked at Ibby. "Ibby, this is my friend. Why wouldn't he come here?"
Ibby looked at him and made an indefinite gesture with her hand. I don't know exactly ...
Hannes went to the apartment door and pressed the button to open the front door.
Again, heavy footsteps sounded in the stairwell. After two minutes Helge stood in front of the door, loaded like a mule, grinning all over his face. "The cavalry's here!" he said and wanted to go past Hannes to the apartment. Hannes stopped him. "Wait. You give me all your guns for a second." "Are you insane? You can't handle them! I'm not giving them up," Helge outraged himself. But something seemed to convince him after all.
Hannes looked at him rigidly and Helge sighed. "All right. So, you get the case with the pistol, and you get the case with the gun. Neither loaded. I'll keep the ammo." Hannes nodded. "The knife too, please." Helge wondered. "You're exaggerating!" But Helge then grabbed the belt and pushed a huge knife into Hannes' hand, put both suitcases down. "May I come in now?" Hannes nodded and said, "Just try to be cool, okay?" Helge grinned again. "Coolness is my middle name!" Hannes stepped aside and Helge marched into the kitchen. Hannes carried the two suitcases into the hallway, put them away and locked the door.
In the kitchen Helge threw a big plastic bag on the sideboard, he hadn't seen Ibby sitting at the kitchen table with her head turned towards the living room. Hannes stood in the door and watched Helge turn around and discover Ibby, who slowly turned her head and looked at Helge at the same time. Helge froze.
Ibby once winked her eyes, stood up and slowly walked towards Helge. He let his arms dangle down on the sides, made big eyes, opened and closed his mouth like a fish on dry land. He swallowed once, looked at Hannes with big eyes, swallowed again and looked at Ibby standing in front of him, reaching out her hand. Helge gritted his teeth together, closed his eyes and shook his head violently once, looked at Ibby, grabbed her hand.
"I'm Helge!"
Ibby shook his hand, grinned and made clattering noises. Helge looked at Hannes. "She can't speak our language, can she? Does she understand me?"
Hannes went to both of them. "Sit down. Of course, she can understand you. Some water, Helge?" Helge nodded and sat down. Hannes got the vodka from the fridge and a glass from the cupboard. He put both on the table, sat down. Helge grabbed the bottle, poured a sip of vodka, shoved the glass to Hannes, put the bottle on his mouth and drank several gargling sips.
Helge slammed the bottle onto the table, leaned back, crossed his arms and looked at both of them thoughtfully.
"You're in real trouble, aren't you?"
They both nodded.
Helge pulled his eyebrows together, thought about it.
"Are they after you?"
Hannes took a deep breath. "Sure. I'm out of work, I can't get to my account anymore, but that's a little problem, we can't drive away, my car just got scrapped. We can move freely here in Cologne, but we can't leave. There are two weird guys upstairs who wanted me to send Ibby out."
Helge frowned.
"I don't understand."
"Well, as long as I don't send Ibby away. She has to stay here. If I send her away, the two guys will get her and most likely kill her."
"I don't understand."
Hannes had to go further, although he had the feeling that Helge understood very well. But well, he thought, why not?
"I found Ibby in an accident car. I had to work in a different location and was on my way home in the evening when it rained. Then a car came towards me, which drove too fast and then fell down a slope. I walked downhill and found Ibby in the trunk. She was hurt and I nursed her. She's been living here ever since."
Helge looked at Hannes for a long time. "You can't tell me there was no police, no intelligence, no military here."
"There was no one here. We're being monitored, of course, but relatively little else has happened."
"And what are you going to do?"
Hannes shrugged his shoulders. "I don't know. To be honest, I don't have a clue. We live from one day to the other."
Helge looked at Ibby looking at the table. "And you, do you have an idea?" Ibby looked at Helge, then slowly shook her head.
"Do you want to stay here? With that weird old bastard?"
Ibby smiled, nodded and then made the gesture Hannes had already seen: She raised both hands to her chest, balling them to her fist, opened them again, balling her hands and opening them, then pointing at Hannes.
"All right," Helge said, "You got your people around here somewhere? Do you have allies?"
Ibby negated it.
"She's being hunted, Helge," said Hannes, "she's being hunted, but as long as she's here with me, I don't think she'll get hurt. That's all I know."
Helge rubbed his face. "You know you have a real problem, don't you? Let me think."
Helge grabbed the bottle again and drank it empty. Ibby watched with big eyes.
"Helge said, "How about we make this public? Like we go to a newspaper?"
Ibby and Hannes shook their heads.
"Or a TV show, then Ibby gets up and is outing herself?"
Hannes shook his head. "There's going to be a mass panic. Then everything collapses. Panic, chaos, military, martial law and so on."
"Here in Cologne?"
"Yes, here too."
Helge stroked his chin.
"I think the newspaper is a good idea. We'll make a different story out of it. No alien. It's someone who was so, uh, Ibby, don't blame me now for saying it, so deformed like that, okay, and didn't dare go out on the street for years because of an accident. Do you understand? A totally lonely person who has now found shelter with you. I will make you the most merciful Samaritan of all time, Hannes."
Helge looked at Ibby smiling. "And you will be the most unfortunate accident victim for the next two weeks."
Ibby was thinking.
Hannes was skeptical. "How are you going to organize this?"
Helge leaned back in his chair, crossed his arms in front of his chest, looked at Hannes compassionately.
"Watch out. I told you, I'm a professional. I'm a Freemason, I'm a hunter, I'm a member of the order. I know a thousand people, and a hundred of them owe me a favor. Let me just think..."
Helge's gaze became blurred.
Then he said, "See, Ibby. You came to Germany last year with the big refugee trip. Wait ... From Passau, someone took you to Freiburg who took care of a facial injury. In Passau, I know enough people who swear that you were part of a trek. And around your eyes. The eyes... Wait a minute, contact lenses will certainly help. I know the doctor who treated you. You've been there for three weeks, oh what, six weeks in treatment. I'll organize it. From there you came to Frankfurt. Somebody took care of you there. I know two who can confirm that. So, and from Frankfurt, you came to Cologne. You were hanging around for a while until our species discovered you here and took you with him. So much for the abridged version. I'll figure out the details in the morning. I'll handle this. You know what?"
Helge looked around smiling.
"I've brought half a boar. I'm going to cook us a really good roast. We don't need dumplings or cabbage, it's just a side dish anyway."
; Helge stood up and went to the plastic bag he had put on the sideboard when he came in. He took out a huge piece of meat, then asked for knives, pan, vegetables, red wine, spices and then went to work. Hannes and Ibby were standing around in the kitchen, both didn't really know what to do. Helge suggested that they could watch TV or read or do whatever now, but please not hang out in the kitchen.
Ibby went into the bedroom and Hannes went to the fridge to get a beer. He turned around and was about to enter the living room when Helge approached him.
"Say, do you know what that funny gesture with fists in front of your chest means?"
Hannes shook his head. Helge devoted himself to the flesh again. "Dumbass."
Hannes turned on the TV in the living room, sat in front of the TV, drank his beer and fell asleep. He woke up when Helge put his head through the door and called for dinner. Hannes got up and went into the kitchen. Helge had already put out silverware and plates, had pressed a candle, which was too big, into a candle holder, which was too small, and Ibby was already sitting in her place, looking at Hannes grinning. Helge got the roast. He sliced large pieces of it off and spread them on the plates. "I guess you only had soup plates, didn’t find anything else," said apologetically. "I called Helga, by the way, she's already on the train. It'll be here in four hours and I'll pick her up." "I don't have a car," Hannes said, "but Helge waved off. "Let's eat first. Dig in," Helge said and rammed the fork into his piece of meat. Hannes did not have a big appetite, but that came, he noted pleased with the food. Only Ibby sat in front of the plate and looked at it. She hadn't tried a bite yet.
"Come on, Ibby, it's the best meat I've ever had. Try it. You’re insulting the cook!"
Ibby looked at Helge, who made a challenging movement with one hand. "Try it!"
She looked to Hannes, who nodded with the full mouth also asking.
She looked at them both, nodded, shrugged her shoulders, you wanted it that way, boys, and then vomited over the food.
It smelled strange. Very weird. Steam was rising.
Hannes and Helge looked at each other and vomited synchronously over their own plate.
The Representative
Ibby shrugged her shoulders apologetically, grabbed a spoon and began to empty her plate. On her plate, there was no more roast, but a dark, slimy mass. But from the looks of it, Ibby ate with a big appetite.
Hannes and Helge turned away, shocked and perplexed at the same time. Then Helge got up, took his plate and Hannes', and emptied them in the toilet. Hannes took new plates out of the shelf, cut a piece off the roast, told Ibby not to blame him, but he, Hannes, would now eat in the living room. Ibby looked up and obviously agreed. Helge followed Hannes into the living room, he closed the door and the two ate. Hannes got a second plate for both, but drinks were missing. The two agreed to get something at the supermarket after dinner; if the supermarket was closed, just at the gas station.
That's what happened. Ibby had cleared her things in the kitchen, opened the window so that the strange smell could disappear. Hannes put on his jacket to buy "liquid food" at the supermarket and Helge started washing the dishes.
When Hannes was back in the apartment, Ibby was already in the bedroom. The two men decided to have a drink in the kitchen and keep an eye on the clock so that Helge could leave to the train station in time to pick up Helga. They indulged in old memories, made plans for the future, told each other what had happened since they had last met; ten years, both were sure, was a long time.
Telling stories makes you thirsty and there was a lot to tell. Sometime during the night, both noticed that the doorbell rang, but no one was able to get up. After another ring, Ibby, who had thrown on a nightgown hastily, opened. Ibby had disappeared into the bedroom again, the door was open, and Helga entered the kitchen after a moment. She dropped her travel bag, saw the empty bottles on the kitchen table. She looked at Hannes, but he was only able to point at her and Helge and then towards the living room. Helga grabbed her husband under his arms and went into the living room with him, closed the door. Ibby was already back in the bedroom, so Hannes crawled slowly in this direction. When he lay down, everything turned, but the turning stopped, when Ibby slipped over to him and made a quiet questioning sound, it was already four o'clock in the morning. Hannes was bad, but with Ibby's help, he made it to the bathroom, where he threw up everything what was in him in the ceramics. Ibby helped him back to bed again and judging by her sparkling eyes and her light smile, she had no pity for Hannes who was moaning on his back and had a leg stretched out of bed to brake. A short time later, footsteps were heard in the corridor, Helge met the same fate, a hiss ´Watch out´ by Helga revealed that Helge did not have to go this way alone either.
When silence returned in the apartment when it was five thirty in the morning.
That's when Mike woke up.
Mike awoke in unbelievable terror, sweaty, with a throbbing heart, wide-open eyes, the shadows of the nightmare that had already evaporated, Mike caused an unknown horror.
Right, he thought, today we meet the representative. Around 0900. In the office of the chief of police ...
Mike turned the light on, took a shower, shaved carefully. He thought about what to wear and chose his dress uniform. He spent the next hour ironing. He used a lint roller to remove dust. When he was finished and satisfied, it was already after six o'clock. He ordered breakfast from room service, but as it stood in front of him, he had no appetite. But he forced himself to eat and drink the coffee. Since there was enough time, Mike decided to walk to the station. It was an ice-cold winter morning, without snow, but smooth, cloudy and dark. Mike lifted the collar of his coat and slowly made his way. Unfortunately, as he noticed, he arrived far too early.
He grumbled a short greeting to the officer on duty at the gate and went into his office. His secretary was already there, and Mike ordered a pot of coffee from her. Although his desk was full of files awaiting processing, he had no desire to work. The coffee came and Mike sat down at the window, sipping the hot coffee. He was worried. When he tried to grasp why he was worried, he did not come to a concrete conclusion. Sure, the alien was a problem, also the codes mentioned by the cell phone man were a problem, but in his stomach the feeling spread that the representative was the problem.
Slowly it got brighter, and Mike had a good view of the city that was waking up. Shortly after eight o'clock, the cell phone man came into his office. Mike turned his head and saw that the cell phone man had thrown himself into his good suit, even, as Mike noticed with a smile, with a vest and handkerchief. Mike waved it to him. "Coffee?"
The cell phone man nodded and got himself a cup. He grabbed a visitor's chair and sat by Mike's window. "He's already here," he said to Mike. Mike turned his head in surprise. "Yes, he's been here since seven. He's upstairs in the office." Mike stood up, but the cell phone man held him by the arm. "Don't be so hasty, Mike, he likes people to be on time on the dot. Do you want to wait outside his office? Not me."
The men waited until just before 0900. As both were standing in front of the elevator, the cell phone man reached into his suit and pulled out a pair of slightly mirrored glasses and held them out to Mike. "Put these on before we go in." Mike looked surprised, but he took the glasses. The cell phone man put on similar glasses, only they looked much newer and more fashionable.
The two stepped out of the elevator and walked the short distance to the antechamber, it was two minutes before nine o'clock. In the antechamber, the secretary of the police president sat and looked distraught at the two men. The cell phone man drove his fingers through his hair, Mike put on his glasses and checked the fit of his uniform. All three looked at the clock hanging on the wall. The second hand showed that it was ten seconds before nine o'clock, the secretary picked up the handset and breathed into it. "They're here." She hung up almost immediately and nodded to them. "You can go in now."
Mike stepped forward and opened the door.
Both came in. At the big desk sat a
skinny male. Mike appraised the figure behind the desk. Accountant type, half bald, the remaining hair combed over the bald head, dirty gray hair, thick nerd glasses, jug ears, white shirt, dark tie, suit vest. Mike wondered for a moment who this male reminded him of, then he remembered that only a black and white checkered jacket was missing, and then there was this one singer, the one with the polonaise. Mike looked at the cell phone man. He also noticed that behind the facade of the cool agent a nervousness was noticeable, which he didn't usually know from the cell phone man. The two of them stood at the door like two schoolboys who were supposed to get chewed out by the principal.
Nothing happened for a while. The male continued reading, turning the pages from time to time, ignoring the two.
After endless minutes the male, without looking up, waved the two to himself and then pointed to two visitor chairs in front of the desk. Both men went to the desk and sat down on the chairs. The cell phone man took his smartphone out of his jacket pocket, but in that second the man looked up and looked at the cell phone man, who put his cell phone away again. That caught Mike's eye and he couldn't resist a stealthy smile.
The male hit the file and looked at Mike. A cold shiver raced down his spine and he silently thanked the cell phone man for the tip with the glasses. The male's gaze went through Mike through and through, though his eyes were not different from others; rather, it appeared to Mike as if the male's will and power crept into his brain through eye contact. But the gaze was blurred, the male's thought tactics found no point where they could penetrate properly. Without letting Mike out of his sight, it whispered, "Sergej, did you tell him the trick with the glasses?" The voice was unpleasant. But Mike felt the incredible power behind it. He got cold.
The cell phone man quietly said, "Fortunately, you can't forbid it." The male nodded slowly but didn't let Mike out of his sight.
Then it turned its head to the cell phone man who returned the gaze. "Well," he said, "Let's get to the case of E.B.E. Number 21." He opened the first page of the file again.
E.B.E. 21- the Hunt Page 22