"Shall we go to my room?" my new companion whispers in my ear.
"No, don’t be annoyed... but that’s a bit too fast for me."
I withdraw with an apologetic smile. I am a stupid cow, I berate myself, but I can’t do anything about it. Somehow, I'm not in the mood to be intimate with a stranger.
"Too bad." With a shrug, he turns around and scans the room with a view to finding the next beauty, one who’s more adventurous than I am. I feel strange as I make my way back to Anna. It’s a funny feeling to be so easily replaceable.
"And?" asks Anna with a significant look at the guy I just kissed.
"I don't know, it's not my thing to hop into bed with a total stranger," I confess. Although this is not the real reason, it’s still not a lie. Even if Christian had not pushed his way into my thoughts, the whole thing was moving too quickly. When I phoned Christian, it was something else. That evening, I was determined to have a one night stand, on my terms. The fact that he was not only very attractive but also very nice played no role in this decision I tell myself.
"You want an espresso?" I ask Anna with a fixed smile while I try to think of something else. It is not an option to fall in love with a callboy! Luckily she does not suspect that it’s the memory of a man who earns his money lying down that stopped me from wanting more. She must not think I’m quite that stupid.
We’re pretty tipsy as we walk up the hill to Anna’s house later that evening. She leans heavily on my arm. Apparently she can’t hold her alcohol as well as she thought, because she’s leaning her entire weight on me. Although it’s after midnight, it’s still hot. I’m sweaty and I'm happy with every breath of wind that touches us.
We are lucky. We only have to cross the street and turn into the small lane which branches off from there. The street lamps cast a milky light on the pavement. Anna gets heavier on my arm, and I'm glad that the alley, which leads to her house, lies ahead. A cat goes for a walk on the wall next to us, but it's not Minn. Perhaps one of her admirers? Then I see something else. My heart skips a beat and then starts to pound.
28
A black BMW with tinted windows. This may be a coincidence, whispers a voice in my head. But I don't believe in coincidences. Slowly I step backwards with Anna, and hide under the protective branches of a tree. I stare at the car, while I try to think clearly.
"What's going on? Why are we stopping?" fusses Anna next to me.
"Quiet. Don't say anything." I draw her even further back in an effort to merge with the night shadows. I'm glad that we both chose little black dresses this evening.
"What's going on?" Anna tries to get free from me, but I hold her still.
"Over there. The BMW. The man in the parking garage drove exactly the same car," I whisper.
"The man who nearly ran over you?" Luckily, Anna is talking quietly now too. She seems more awake, and she appears to have understood the seriousness of the situation.
"Exactly."
"What is he doing here? How did he find you?"
"I don't know. Perhaps I’m mistaken. Maybe it's just a stupid coincidence."
Anna looks at me dubiously. "There aren’t so many BMWs on this island. Especially not with a Frankfurt plate."
Now it is Anna that leads me further into a side street, and then we break into a run heading down to the port where the taxis are waiting. We climb into the first available vehicle, and Anna talks in Spanish to the driver. He starts the car before we’re even strapped in and takes off with squealing tires. Anna pulls her phone out of her pocket and begins to make a phone call, she rattles off an explanation like a machine gun. At least, I think that’s what she’s doing, I can’t tell because she’s speaking Spanish. Then she stops talking, but before I can say anything she’s dialed again. Another jumble of Spanish sentences; after a while she hangs up, turns to me and grins.
"Your mysterious pursuers are experiencing a nasty surprise," she announces and leans back satisfied.
"Did you call Antonio?"
Anna nods. “Yes. He will ensure that your stalkers spend the night in a cell. To sober up."
"How does he know that they’re drunk?"
"When he picks them up, they will be drunk. Believe me."
"Antonio is probably pretty mad at me for drawing you into this whole mess."
Anna shrugs her shoulders. "He wasn’t very happy, that was obvious, but he's worried about you of course. It looks like you're not safe even here. He thinks you should go back to Frankfurt as soon as possible and go to the police."
"He's probably right," I agree, reluctantly, even if I don't like the idea. I certainly won’t be going to the police. but I have to leave here, I don’t want to put Anna in danger.
"Antonio has contacted his friend José. He will fly you to the mainland."
"Now? In the middle of the night?"
“Yes. Antonio will have to let your stalker go in the morning. He wants you to disappear from the island before then. For your own safety." And Anna’s I think. I have to agree with him, even if everything is going a bit too quickly for me.
"He also said you shouldn’t use your cell phone, they might have located you using it. Tomorrow they’ll check your car for trackers, but as long as we don't know how they found you, you should be careful. Here, you can use my phone in the meantime."
"Thank you. I’ll give it back to you as soon as possible."
"I have another one. There's no hurry."
Before I can say anything, the taxi comes to a stop. Before us lies a small estate which is almost obscured by several large trees. And then I see something else, a helicopter, a very small helicopter. An uneasy feeling is spreading from my stomach. When Anna said that this José would fly me to the mainland I was thinking about a normal plane, not that! I’ve never flown in a helicopter before. My father didn’t squander his money on such nonsense, as he liked to say.
"So, here we are." Anna sounds happy as she gets out and indicates the helicopter. Not surprisingly, as she’s not the one who has to fly in it. I follow her hesitantly. I didn’t know these things could be so small.
"José will bring you to Denia." Anna gestures to the man who looks like a tourist despite his Spanish name, he has thick, blond hair, blue eyes, and is well tanned.
José offers me his hand and says: "It’s a pleasure. It’s a long time since I’ve flown over the sea."
That’s all I need, I hope he knows what he's doing. I'm already getting queasy just looking at the helicopter. Then I realize, that it has no doors, and my stomach makes an involuntary somersault. "What about the doors?" I ask with a shaky voice.
"You can trust José. He’s a nice guy and an excellent pilot. He will bring you safely to Denia."
I attempt a smile and turn around to face her trying not to let my feelings show. I don’t want her to think that I'm afraid of getting into this flying sardine can. "Okay, thank you again for everything, Anna." I hug her. "I'm sorry. I didn’t mean to draw you into this whole thing," I whisper, and have to hold back rising tears.
"Don’t worry. I’m fine, Antonio is looking out for me, and besides, that's what friends are for." Anna pats me on the back and breaks off our hug. "Now, José will be ready in a minute." Then she turns around and goes back to the taxi. She waves to me one last time before climbing in and drives away amidst a cloud of dust.
I envy them, but it doesn’t make a difference, I have to get away from here, I can’t put Anna at risk, at least no more than I have done already. I turn around and look over to José. He is standing next to his helicopter concentrating on a clear liquid. Then he stands on the tips of his toes and looks at the rotor blades, as if he’s just seen them for the first time. What's he doing?
"When can we leave?" I wonder what the translation would be for: can we please get the whole thing over with as quickly as possible.
"Won't be long now. Almost finished with the pre-flight checks," he mumbles, and moves on. He goes to the cockpit, moves a lever and indicates for me to enter. I
do so, force myself to climb onto the small seat and look around. There’s not much to see.
"Where are the doors?" I ask, in the hope that they will still somehow emerge out of nowhere.
"We don't need any. Much too hot," replies Jose. He sits down and puts on his headphones. The cockpit is even smaller now. And I don't have anything to hold on to. There’s a handle right next to me. "Can I hold that?" I ask in the hopes of having something to anchor myself to.
"You can’t touch anything. Not if you don't want to crash, and certainly not this lever."
Good. Now I feel much better.
José turns on the engine and the rotor blades above us begin to rotate slowly. The whole helicopter vibrates, but otherwise nothing happens. Nothing at all. We don’t lift off, but instead stick to the ground. With my luck this thing is broken. Patiently I wait a few minutes, hoping for a miracle, but still nothing happens.
"Why aren’t we flying?" I ask eventually as it becomes evident to me that there is something wrong.
José looks at me like I’m out of my mind. "We have to start up the motor first. We can’t just take off."
"Really? They always fly off immediately on television. They climb in and off it goes."
"That’s the difference between reality and television," replies José, and then he takes off without warning. We rise vertically into the air, while my stomach thinks it’s still on the ground. When it eventually realizes its mistake, I feel as if it’s taking a high-speed elevator to the top. I swallow hard, not wanting to embarrass myself any more than I already have. Then, the nose of the helicopter sinks and we rise even higher, above the trees which are much denser below us than I would like. We continue climbing, so high that the road below me, which leads from here directly to Ibiza town, looks like a colorful band of light.
Then suddenly, the helicopter pitches to the side. Terrified, I look over at José. Which is a mistake, because below him is nothing but emptiness. My heart beats hard in my throat. We're going to hit the ground like a stone.
"What was that?"
"Calm down, Tamara. It was a curve."
"Oh." I can’t think of anything else to say but that. The blood rushes to my head and I’m suddenly hot. Luckily, José is busy flying and can’t see that I'm sitting next to him with a bright red face.
What should I do if he makes a right hand turn? There is nothing next to me, no door, no grip. Only gaping emptiness between me and the Earth.
I break out in a cold sweat. This is all Ron’s doing. After all that’s happened so far. After all that I've been through, I will die now, in fear, in a helicopter.
"There’s Ibiza town," says José and pulls me out of my gloomy thoughts.
“Ah. Yes. Beautiful," I mumble as we leave the city with its white walls behind us. Not much later we are above the sea, which stretches deep below us.
"How do you know where to fly?" I ask, because this complete and utter darkness creeps me out.
"GPS." Jose indicates a small device. "Don't worry, we won’t get lost." He turns to me and smiles. "You'll arrive in Denia alive. I promise you."
29
The train jerks and judders a little as it moves off then slowly gains momentum. Exhausted, I stare out of the window. It is shortly after one o'clock in the afternoon and I didn't sleep a wink all night. Ahead of me lies a long journey, the train takes over twenty hours from Valencia to Frankfurt. Luckily, José was kind enough to fly me here, because it would have taken even longer from Denia. I left my car in Ibiza. I’ll pick it up as soon as this nightmare is behind me, or maybe hire someone to drive it to Frankfurt.
I must have fallen asleep at some point because I wake with a start. Where am I? The view from the window shows a grey sky and fields whizzing by. The noise that awoke me grows louder until I finally find the phone that Anna gave me and turn off the alarm clock. I have to change trains soon. Blearily I push myself up. Fortunately, I only have my purse and don’t have to drag a case along with me. The train slows down and comes to a stop with a loud wheeze.
It's cold outside on the platform. It’s officially summer, but here in Narbonne you can’t tell. I'm freezing in my thin dress and stumble tiredly onto my next train. I find an empty compartment and sit by the window. I still have a long journey ahead of me. This time I do not succeed in falling asleep. Instead, I try to find an answer as to how Ron fits into this puzzle. I haven’t gotten too far by the time the phone rings.
"How are you?" asks Anna, as soon as I pick up.
"Good. Tired. I’ll be in Frankfurt in a few hours. Did Antonio find out anything else?"
“No. He interrogated your stalkers for quite a long time, but they denied everything. Said they just wanted to drop in on an old friend and that they must have mixed up the address. From the description you gave him, he believes that it was Blondie and Rambo. Those aren’t their real names of course. But unfortunately, they don’t have any criminal records. Which doesn’t necessarily mean anything."
"Too bad, I would like to know how they found me."
"Yes, that’s what Antonio wanted to know as well. He’s pretty sure that they located you using your phone. Your car is okay, they didn’t find any hidden transmitters."
"Okay, well it can’t be helped. Thank you for your help! I don't know how I will ever put this all right."
"Don't worry, something will come up. See that you get home safely. And take care of yourself!"
Anna finishes the conversation, and I tuck the phone into my pocket. I’m not nearly as calm about it all as I may have led Anna to believe on the phone. I'm afraid to go back, but I don't know what else to do. One thing has become clear to me: I need to find out what is going on here if I want to lead a normal life again.
At eleven o'clock the next morning I finally arrive in Frankfurt. I feel dirty from the long journey, and am looking forward to a shower at my hotel. But first, I rent a car. Luckily, I have Ron's Sixt Platinum card with me. This guarantees me not only the best car that the car rental company has to offer, but also means that his name will appear as the leaser.
Not long after that I arrive at my hotel. With a gravel like feeling in my stomach I go up the stairs. I try to calm myself with the thought that no one knows I'm back in Frankfurt. But I don’t believe myself. They found me in Ibiza, whispers a voice in my head, they can find me anywhere. I'm scared, and I have to force myself to go the few steps down the hall to my room.
I open the door carefully, wait at the threshold and listen. Then, I take a measured step forward so that I can look into the room. Only when I am sure that nobody is in it, do I venture inside completely. My heart beats violently in my chest as I slowly creep forward until I'm right in the middle of the room.
The small room is completely deserted. It is very quiet up here, only faint noises from the street reach me. Maybe I should look under the bed? I feel like a child who's afraid of monsters. Except that in my case they are fully-grown, muscular monsters who will stop at nothing.
This is ridiculous, but all the same... just to make sure, I take a look under the bed. A few dust balls, that's all I find. Apparently they don’t clean under the beds too often.
Now I just have to check the wardrobe and small bathroom. I’m just about to take a look when I think of something. The gun! With two quick steps I reach my suitcase, rummage through the underwear, and there it is, cold and hard in my hand.
Slowly I go to the wardrobe, the gun pointing vertically in the air, just like you see on TV. I carefully open the door, and exhale relieved. There’s nobody there. Now just the bathroom remains. I sneak to the door on tiptoe, and freeze trying to determine whether someone is hiding in there, before I go in. Finally I open the door, nothing. I stare at the shower curtain hanging motionless in front of me.
What was the name of that Hitchcock thriller? I swallow hard as I remember the movie. I reach out with the gun and use it to pull the curtain aside. Empty. Good! I can breathe again. I hadn’t noticed I was holding my breath.
Somewhat calmer I look in my suitcase for something to wear. Something more fitting to the German summer than the little black dress I wore on Ibiza.
After I am dressed and have put on my make-up I feel a little better. It’s amazing what a little make-up can do, I think to myself as I look in the mirror and notice with satisfaction how well hidden the shadows under my eyes now are. I look like I have several hours of sleep behind me.
Next, I do something that I've seen in quite a few movies. I take a few pieces of my hair and distribute them throughout the room so that I’ll be able to tell in future if anyone has been here while I’m out. I glue a hair across the wardrobe door, one above the door to the bathroom and then I secure my suitcase in the same way. At the door I hang the ‘Do not disturb’ sign, so the maid doesn’t get the idea to come in and clean.
After that’s done, I sit down with my laptop at the small table which stands by the window. From here I have a clear view of the street on which the hotel is located. Thoughtfully I watch a few pedestrians walk down the street. I must make a decision, and plan my next steps. Just as I promised Antonio, I will go to the police, just not today. First, I need to find out who's behind all this, and then hand over all the evidence to the police. Hopefully then I can avoid an indictment.
"It is very likely that Ron is a criminal and tried to frame you," Antonio’s words reverberate in my head. Since I found the sweater I've assumed that he must be the culprit. But then I'm reminded of another of Antonio’s comments: "Never assume anything. Just because something seems logical, it doesn’t mean it’s the right solution. Search for the facts."
With a sigh, I open a document to record what facts I know. When I see the list in black and white in front of me, one thing becomes clear: I need more information.
30
The next morning is a rainy one. I wish I were back in Ibiza. Instead, I'm in the city, in the middle of the intense activity that dominates this time of day. The Saturday shopping ensures that there is a traffic jam in the nearby city center. Here in the small, relatively quiet side street in the Westend, I can hear the traffic not far away from me in the main street as it rolls slowly along. Here, however, there are only a few cars. The obscure tangle of one-way streets in the Westend ensures that drivers rarely venture into them.
Never Trust a Callboy Page 11