“Gavin,” Joanna says, sighing, the relief audible in her voice. “If you only knew how glad I am that you’re here,” she continues in English.
The man nods at her, without so much as a glance at me. “Our flight conditions were ideal. We’ll take off again in two hours.”
“Good. By the way, this is Erik, my fiancé. My father told you he’d be accompanying us.”
The two dark eyes focus on me, seem to bore into me for a brief moment, then look away again.
“No, Joanna. Your father specifically said: not him.”
39
At first I think I must have misheard. Gavin is standing there in that relaxed way of his; his eyes are friendly, but he’s not fooling me with that. Sure, he’d take a bullet for me, but there was no way I could talk him into doing something that contradicts my father’s orders.
OK. I’ll get this cleared up right away.
“I spoke to Dad on the phone yesterday, and again a few hours ago—it’s already been decided that Erik is coming with me. You’ve misunderstood.”
Not a muscle twitches in Gavin’s face, but there’s something not unlike sympathy in his expression. “I’m certain that I haven’t. We have instructions to bring you home, just you. No matter what the circumstances.”
Gavin has been working for my family since I was fourteen. He was there on all of our vacations—and on most of my dates. One of two silent shadows sitting at the table next to me, keeping an eye on the entrance of the restaurant while I would hold hands with my respective companion. I never managed, not one time, to convince Gavin to give me some privacy for even half an hour.
Although that was a long time ago.
I take Erik’s hand. “He’s coming with me. I’ll be responsible for him.”
A soft, barely visible shake of the head. “Sorry as I am to say it, Joanna, you won’t be responsible. And it’s not your decision.”
Despite Gavin’s Australian twang, Erik can understand every word, there’s no question of that. It only takes one glance at him to see that he understands exactly what’s going on here. I squeeze his hand tighter.
“I’m calling Dad,” I say to Gavin, and hope he can hear from the tone of my voice that his job will be on the line. “Hopefully that will clear things up. If I can’t reach him, it’s my orders that count, not his. And certainly not what you understand them to be.”
I let go of Erik’s hand and take a few steps to the side. It takes a few seconds before the call goes through. As I press the phone to my ear and listen to the dial tone, I try to get my unbridled rage under control, otherwise I won’t hit the right note with Dad. I’m half expecting him not to answer—he’s organized everything; now it’s up to his subordinates, and it’ll all run like clockwork. Like always.
But he picks up after the third ring.
“Hello, Jo.” His voice doesn’t sound drowsy in the least. He was awake. Maybe he was even waiting for me to call. I grip my phone tighter.
“Hi, Dad. I’m at the airport already.”
“Yes, I know. And the plane is there already as well, I just got word from the pilot.”
Right, deep breath. “OK. Listen, Dad, there’s clearly been a misunderstanding. Gavin is refusing to take Erik on board, even though I told him several times that you and I agreed on it. Could you please tell him that he has to follow my instructions?”
From the corner of my eye I can see Erik turning away. If it’s true what he says, and he has known me for almost a year—he properly hasn’t seen this side of me. He’ll probably like it just as little as I do, but that doesn’t matter right now.
My father hasn’t responded yet, only cleared his throat. That’s not a good sign.
“No, no, that’s all correct,” he says now.
“Excuse me?”
“Come on, Jo. We can always bring this Erik over later if we really have to. But for now, just you come home. Alone. I want to speak to you in private.”
I try to stop myself from the yelling on the phone. “We have a deal. I’m expecting you to keep it.”
No, that wasn’t a good move. It would have been smarter to play the daughter he’d like to have: obedient, full of admiration for her daddy, and possibly not bright enough to have a will of her own.
“We did indeed have a deal.” All trace of fatherly understanding has disappeared from his voice. “That you’re allowed to have your fun in Europe and none of us would ask you any questions. That you would marry Matthew as soon as you got back. And yesterday you suddenly tell me about some fiancé? Who you want to bring with you?” He bursts out laughing, only to shout even more angrily into the phone afterward, “Forget it, Jo. You reneged on your side of the deal, and I’m not going to keep my side of it. You’re flying home now, and if Gavin even thinks about letting your lover on board, then God help him.”
I close my eyes for a moment. I can no longer feel the burning rage inside me, just cold. And an intense clarity.
“You lied to me. On purpose. Yesterday and now again today.”
He laughs again. “Don’t try to make me feel guilty. It won’t work. Unfortunately you still don’t know what’s good for you, and so you just have to rely on the people who are better able to judge.”
I still don’t feel any rage, despite what he just said. But the fear is coming back with a vengeance. The realization that it’s not yet over.
“Have a nice life, Dad.”
I hear him gasp for air. He understands, of course, he knows me. “You’re flying home, just so that’s clear. Don’t even think about putting up a fight, I’ll block all your accounts, and if it’s necessary Gavin will just have to force you onto that damn plane—”
I hang up. See Gavin shrugging in commiseration. I told you, didn’t I?
It will be just a matter of seconds until his phone rings and Dad gives him new instructions. We need all the head start we can get. Once Gavin’s on the phone, he’ll be distracted. That’s our only chance, and even that’s just a tiny one.
I nod to him. “You were right. He tricked me.”
Gavin tilts his head. “I’m very sorry.”
“It’s not your fault.” I look over to Erik, who’s looking out over the airfield, his expression stony. He caught onto exactly what happened, of course he has, and his disappointment must be even greater than mine. In two hours I’ll be safe, while he won’t have anywhere he can go.
“Gavin?”
“Yes?”
“Give us five minutes, OK?” I gesture toward the panoramic window at the other end of the room. “This isn’t going to be easy for me.”
He quickly checks the surroundings, assesses the situation, then nods. “OK. Take your time.”
I pick up my purse, then walk over to Erik, reach out and touch his shoulder. He turns his head around to me slowly.
“Come, please.” I pull him along with me and, as expected, he resists. “Where to?”
“Please. Don’t look at me like that. Come on, we don’t have much time.”
Finally he gives in. Reluctantly. “I knew it,” he says softly. “Somehow I knew it even yesterday. But at least you’ll get out of here, and you are the one they’re looking for, after all.”
I pull him toward the glass wall; the terminal hall is right below us. A cell phone rings; I hear Gavin saying “Sir?” I fling my arms around Erik’s neck.
For a moment we stand there, holding each other close, then Erik pushes me away. “Are you trying to make it even harder for me?”
“No.” I don’t let him go. “The door is over there. I’m not flying back without you. They’re going to try and force me, so we have to run as fast as we can. Out of the building. Gavin and his people haven’t properly entered the country yet, so they won’t let them through the checkpoint just like that, and that’s our chance.”
Erik remains silent. He puts his arms around me. “That’s crazy, you can’t stay here, that would be—”
We don’t have time for this discussion now. I t
ear myself away from him and go over to the door, with a pointedly casual gait. As soon as I’ve opened it, I start to run. Out of the lounge, down the steps, taking two at once. Erik is right behind me, I can hear his breathing, as well as Gavin cursing, but that doesn’t matter now, because passport control, which we passed a few hours ago in the other direction, is just ahead.
Still, the two officers try to stop us. One of them manages to grab hold of Erik’s jacket, but he quickly pulls himself free again.
Gavin’s calls become louder. “Stop, Joanna, there’s no point to this!”
Another fifty feet to the exit, then twenty. How lucky that we’re in General Aviation and not the public terminal. Erik is beside me now; he grabs my arm and pulls me along with him. The doors open; darkness and a rush of cool air greet us; out of the corner of my eye I see the alarmed customs officers intercept Gavin and his colleagues; then we’re outside.
There are no taxis here, it’s no-man’s-land, but we just keep running, keeping to the left. Anywhere, just not toward the airport, because anyone acting the way we are would seem suspicious in the airport. Especially two days after a terror attack.
So we simply stay by the edge of the main road, slowing down bit by bit, then finally come to a halt. Car headlights wash over us from behind, and with every car that passes, I fear it might brake next to us and that someone will drag us inside.
Erik gestures to the right. “There’s a gas station over there.”
I nod, gasping. We walk the rest of the way at half speed, on the sparse patch of green by the side of the street. Again and again I feel Erik looking at me, but now is not the time for explanations. I ask myself if it would have been any different if I had come clean with Dad and told him about Gabor. About the boiler and about me attacking Erik with a knife. About the fact that he was inside the station at the time of the attack. About the fact the both of our lives are in immediate danger.
I try to imagine it.
That might just have yielded a flight ticket for Erik—to a completely different country. To Paraguay or Chile, maybe.
But if I’m completely honest with myself, I have to admit that it probably wouldn’t have changed anything. Deep down, George Arthur Berrigan would have been delighted that someone else was going to get rid of the problem of Erik for him.
40
What the hell was Joanna thinking? For a long time I had thought I knew this woman, who right now is trudging alongside me toward the gas station. The sudden change in her a few days ago had been hard to deal with, but I had still wanted to stay with her at all costs. Help her. Even though she could no longer remember me, she was still my Joanna.
But then the knife, the one that was meant to kill me, had cut such a deep rift between us that I almost gave up on her. After that, I’d thought her capable of anything, even being in cahoots with the people who are clearly trying to get me out of the way.
And now, even though she’s in mortal danger, she has rejected the chance to get herself to safety. She’s even running from her own people, just because the man she can’t remember isn’t allowed to come along. Suddenly, she’s once again the woman I thought she was all along. The woman who’s prepared to overcome any obstacle that might be in our way.
The woman who might even have remembered who I am?
“Where should we go now?” she asks, interrupting my train of thought. We’ve almost reached the gas station. I stop, glance back in the direction we came from. The illuminated GAT building is several hundred yards away. Hardly anything is visible in the darkness between us and the terminal. But it doesn’t look like anyone is chasing us.
I turn to face Joanna, who’s also turned around to look behind us.
“Why did you do that?”
She looks at me like I’ve asked a completely absurd question. “Because I didn’t want to leave without you.” Her breathing is still uneven from running.
I wouldn’t know where to begin describing the turmoil inside of me. “But why?” I want to get at least a tiny glimmer of clarity. “I don’t understand. You couldn’t remember me anymore, you even tried to … Has something changed? Have you remembered something from the time we spent together?”
“No. Unfortunately not.” She shakes her head and raises her hand in a dismissive gesture. “We don’t have time for discussions right now. Neither of us is going to leave Germany, by the looks of it, so we should really see to it that we get out of the immediate area right away. It won’t be long before Gavin shows up and finds the gas station. There’s not much else here, after all. I’m going to call us a cab, and you have to think about where it should take us.”
I’m surprised by the matter-of-fact way in which Joanna is dealing with the situation. And she’s right, too. Right now it’s important that we make ourselves scarce from the area surrounding the terminal. Gavin didn’t really give me the impression of being a man who gives up all that easily.
“All right, but let’s at least walk over to the gas station. We’re sitting ducks out here.”
We walk the remaining three hundred feet and stop at the rear of the building. While Joanna’s taking care of getting a cab, I think about what we should do next. There’s no way we can go back home. To get to Munich by cab will take us about half an hour. The city’s probably still in chaos, but still …
“The taxi will be here in five minutes,” Joanna says, sliding her phone back into her pocket. “It’s probably best if we get a hotel room in Munich, what do you think?”
“Yes. There’s this hotel at the Isartor I stayed at once. It’s OK and it’s fairly big.”
“OK. The Isartor it is, then.”
“Oh, and—Jo?”
Her arms are crossed in front of her chest; it’s obvious she’s feeling cold. “Yes?”
“Take the battery out of your phone. I don’t think your father’s going to find anyone who’ll be able to pinpoint your phone that quickly, but let’s not take any risks.”
She hesitates for a moment, then takes the smartphone out of her pocket again and pulls the battery out of its casing.
“Good idea.”
We walk around the gas station, and wait beside it in the shadows of a recess. After about ten minutes, the taxi pulls up.
We get in; I tell the driver our destination. Then we sit in the back in silence. Shaken up, yet at the same time totally dejected by the events of the past hour. The past few days were bad, but as far as hopelessness goes, they don’t even come close to how I’m feeling right now. Just in the moment we thought we were finally safe, we were thrown right back into peril.
Toneless darkness rolls past my window, punctuated only by the light of a streetlamp or a lone house here and there.
As we drive onto the expressway toward Munich, I put my hand onto Joanna’s forearm. “Now will you tell me why you decided to stay?” I’m speaking so softly she can only just understand what I’m saying. She nods toward the driver and shakes her head. “Not now.”
Half an hour later, Joanna pays the driver sixty-three euros for the journey. “I’m running low on cash,” she says, once we’ve gotten out and I’ve slammed the taxi door shut. “I didn’t bring that much with me. My father told me over the phone that he’s going to have all my cards canceled as well. Normally he makes good on his threats fairly quickly, but I should still be able to pay for the hotel with my MasterCard if we’re lucky.”
“I don’t think that’s a good idea. I don’t know what means are at your father’s disposal, but it might be possible for him to find out where we are if you use your card.”
“You’re right; I hadn’t even thought of that. And just to give you an idea, my dad has all the means a person could possibly have at their disposal, and then some.”
The image I have of Joanna’s father is becoming clearer and clearer. And with every additional detail I find out, the more I get the feeling I wouldn’t like to meet him.
“I can take care of it,” I say. “I don’t think Gabor can trace
my card.”
I feel around for my wallet. It’s not where it should be. “Damn it.” I pat down the few remaining places in my clothes where it could be. Nothing. Just what we needed. It’s hopeless.
“My wallet’s gone. Either it’s still in the taxi, or I lost it before that.”
“Are you sure?”
“Yes I’m sure. I mean, it’s not here. Or I could have dropped it while we were running away.”
“OK, hang on.” Joanna approaches the first friendly-looking person walking by and speaks to him. The man smiles and hands his phone to her, and she types in a number. Two minutes later we’ve ruled out the possibility of my wallet being in the taxi.
I feel a crippling sense of resignation. It drains my energy, tries to lure me into sinking to the ground right where I’m standing, into no longer doing a single thing.
“And there was me thinking things couldn’t possibly get any worse.” Joanna is wearing a thoughtful expression on her face. “All right then, so let’s go in and pay for a room before Dad cancels my cards. We’ll just have to hope he doesn’t pick up on the transaction.”
She seems to be adjusting to the shitty situation we’re in much better than I am. And she’s still here, even though she could be sipping champagne in her father’s fancy Learjet by now.
She stayed. Because of me. So I pull myself together and enter the spacious, modernly furnished hotel lobby at her side.
The young man standing behind a reception desk made of light brown wood smiles and gives us a friendly greeting. Various types of rooms are still available, he tells us, and we opt for a standard one. He shoots a quick glance beside and behind us, probably to check for luggage, of which we have none.
He asks us to leave credit card details, so Joanna takes out her MasterCard and puts it on the counter. My pulse quickens. This must be how a crook trying to pay for something with a stolen credit card feels.
The hotel employee swipes the plastic through the slot on the card machine and presses a button. The seconds ebb away at an agonizingly slow speed while the man, his expression unchanging, stares at the small screen. This is taking way too long. He’s going to shake his head in a second, tell us there’s a problem with the card. With the streak of bad luck we’ve been having, I’d even be surprised if he didn’t. I wonder if it will show him that the card’s been canceled. And if … “Thank you,” says the man, handing the MasterCard back to Joanna. “Your card hasn’t been charged yet; that will be done when you check out. And here’s your room card.”
Strangers Page 26