That was what he was telling Dettmer, in a few sentences laced with irony. “I don’t have much to do with pubs, despite what some people might think. But let’s make a brief résumé, before things start getting out of hand.” Then he summarized the facts: under the influence of drink, a notorious habitué of bars had imagined he’d seen his neighbour’s double, had imagined he’d seen a Jaguar parked outside his flat, a Porsche close to his regular bar, had seen his neighbour getting out of the Porsche and an identical-looking woman getting into the Jaguar. Had anyone else, perhaps a more reliable witness, made any similar observations? Dettmer had to pass on that.
“And how did the officers dealing with the investigation respond to your suggestion of a double?” Wolfgang Blasting asked.
That put Dettmer on the back foot. He hummed and hawed, clearly he hadn’t been taken seriously.
“How annoying for you,” Wolfgang Blasting said, “when the living proof’s sitting right here in front of you.”
Assuring Dettmer that he was taking him seriously, he got him to confirm that Heller had died late on the Friday evening and Susanne at some time during the Saturday night. Then he switched from the friendly colleague to the man who was in charge of a whole department and used to putting subordinates in their place.
If Dettmer wanted anything from Nadia Trenkler, then it was the answer to two questions: Did you know Susanne Lasko? Where were you on Sunday night? And as far as that night was concerned, Wolfgang Blasting could vouch for her personally, even though Lilo’s party had ended before twelve and she could, of course, have gone out again after Jo had taken her home. Jo and Lilo immediately confirmed that and named other guests at the party as witnesses.
But Dettmer had one further trump up his sleeve: the red Alfa Spider. His colleagues were looking for a woman among Susanne Lasko’s acquaintances who owned a red car and had lent it to her on the Friday evening. Whether it was a convertible or not Dettmer couldn’t say. Wolfgang Blasting commented that there must be umpteen thousand red cars in the area, but if the officers investigating the case thought it necessary, they were welcome to ask Nadia Trenkler if she’d lent her car to anyone. If they felt it was worth taking the trouble to come out there themselves.
By this time she’d calmed down sufficiently to see his treatment of Dettmer as a mistake. And she felt that Michael, when he came home, made an even greater one. He asked what the gathering in the living room was all about, demanded an explanation and then claimed she’d driven him to the lab on Friday morning and picked him up in the evening because he’d forgotten to get petrol. They’d gone to Demetros’s, he went on, and only come back after midnight. At last Dettmer left. Hardly had the front door closed behind him than Wolfgang Blasting said, “That was unnecessary. I can guarantee he’ll go straight round to Demetros’s.”
Michael shrugged his shoulders. “Let him. I’ll ring and tell them we were there.”
And no one batted an eyelid. No one even thought of asking her where she really had been that Friday evening. Lilo patted her hand again. Jo gave her an encouraging smile. Michael sent a quick smile in her direction too, though a very cool one, and went upstairs. Wolfgang Blasting followed him, accompanied by Jo who was asking where he could find the necessary space for the security system. If the Security folder remained compressed, the leads in the loft would have to be cut again the next time the alarm went off. Lilo broke in, saying that Kestermann was going to come round to pick up the picture, and asked, her voice full of concern, “How do you feel, darling? Can I leave you with them?”
She just nodded and saw Lilo to the door. Before she left, she whispered, “If Wolfgang goes too far, just throw him out.” She realized what she meant when she went into the study. Jo was sitting at the computer again. Michael and Blasting were standing either side of him looking at the masses of new data. Wolfgang Blasting’s help had come at a price.
In the few minutes before she arrived Michael had already told them everything he knew about Philip Hardenberg’s machinations with her double. Jo had established that some of the files that had just arrived already existed in another location on the hard disk and were thus duplicated. Wolfgang Blasting’s opening salvo was the question, “Are you a hundred percent sure that this Lasko worked for Hardenberg?”
No mistakes now! Keep this awful trembling locked up inside you. She just nodded.
But Wolfgang Blasting wasn’t satisfied with that. “What gave you that idea?”
Michael saved her having to reply. “Have you got many more of these intelligent questions?” he asked irritatedly. “What would you have thought if someone you’d never seen before addressed you as Frau Lasko and talked about an investment?”
Wolfgang Blasting shrugged his shoulders while Jo tried to open Hardenberg’s customer list. The computer informed him the default application couldn’t open it. “Why did you take the program down?” Jo asked.
Wolfgang Blasting gave her a thoughtful look. And suddenly, despite Dieter’s warning, she saw her way clear, though she was skating on very thin ice. “I needed the space. I downloaded all of Philip’s files so I could examine them without fear of interruption to find out what was going on.”
Wolfgang Blasting’s delight expressed itself in two words: “What? All?”
Less than a minute later Jo was loading the considerably smaller SLA file into the editor. It took a few seconds before figures and letters cascaded over the screen. They weren’t as neatly arranged as on the account sheet Dieter had shown her, but it still didn’t take Wolfgang Blasting’s expert eye long to realize what he was looking at. He even worked out that the money was in Nassau. “Was that why you went to the Bahamas? To make enquiries?”
“No,” Michael said quickly. “When we were over there she had no idea about the double. She only discovered that recently.” He spoke in a firm voice, only his eyes showed that he was lying.
“Can I have a copy?” Wolfgang Blasting asked.
“What’s the point?” Michael retorted. “The woman’s dead. You can’t ask her who the money belongs to.”
“But I suspect,” Wolfgang Blasting said, “that sooner or later the owners are going to want to ask Hardenberg some questions. I could post a man near his office.”
Jo butted in. “Couldn’t we at least delete some of it? How else am I going to get Sec running?”
Wolfgang Blasting had no time for Jo’s worries. “Forget your Sec. It works, doesn’t it? That -” pointing at the monitor, he looked at her - “is a much better lever than Röhrler. Have you at least some idea who the investors might be?”
The way the amount invested had been split up clearly suggested to him that the six million had originally come from several people. She shook her head and described Zurkeulen’s car together with his chauffeur and the registration number. He looked at her reflectively and said, in a voice that brooked no argument, “You’ll send me a copy. And the rest of the stuff. Or do you intend to continue working for Hardenberg?”
She shook her head again. With a nod of satisfaction he went to the door, then turned round. “And you’ll do nothing off your own bat. Can I rely on that?”
“What could I do?” she asked.
He gave a soft laugh. “As I know you, you won’t simply accept the fact that Hardenberg’s dumped you after you’d pepped up his firm. But I think it’s better if someone else put a stop to his game.” In earnest tones he went on, “For your own sake, Nadia, no more little trips to the office. Even if you don’t know the investors, your face will be very familiar to them, as we’ve seen already.”
“We’re going to Paris tomorrow anyway,” Michael said.
“Good,” Wolfgang Blasting said with a grin. “Then I’ll get onto my colleagues in the murder squad before Dettmer stirs things up too much. Don’t worry, I’ll make it clear to them that their case has repercussions which are a bit beyond them.”
Finally he left. Jo went with him. Once they were alone, Michael stood there motionless for a few
moments, fixing her with an icy stare. Then he asked, “Why did you kill this Heller? Just because he’d seen you? And who’s got the woman on their conscience? Philip?”
It was a horrible night. A hundred times she insisted she’d had nothing to do with Heller’s death and certainly not with Susanne Lasko’s. A hundred times he demanded she stop her lying. Hadn’t she’d told him she’d been to Kettlerstrasse that Friday evening and had waited for Susanne Lasko? And he knew why she’d gone to the Bahamas. When she’d said she had to go to get some cash for the next day, he hadn’t gone back to the hotel, he’d followed her - to the bank where the millions were deposited. And he thanked the Lord that he’d had enough sense to reject her surprise present. At least the money was still there. If Wolfgang managed to identify the investors, he might be satisfied with that.
Until two o’clock in the morning he kept pressing her to tell the truth. She came close to telling him everything because it sounded as if he simply couldn’t put the two murders behind him. But on Monday he’d also sounded adamant and then had done an about-turn. And if he learned what had been done to Nadia… Dieter’s warning kept her lips sealed.
It was towards morning before she got to sleep. When she woke at half-past eight, Andrea was already there. The two newspapers were on the kitchen table, together with a note from Michael. He asked her to book a flight and pack their cases. He wanted to be in Paris by the evening.
Through the travel agents it was easy to get two seats on a flight to Paris, the tickets to be collected from the Lufthansa desk. They pointed out that this was a scheduled flight, they had a cheaper offer for the Saturday morning. She insisted on the scheduled flight, she wanted to get away as quickly as possible. She booked the return flight for the following Wednesday, two seats again, even though she had absolutely no intention of coming back.
Shortly after ten a courier delivered a package. Dieter had sent four tapes with a little recorder and headphones. She phoned to thank him, also to tell him about the previous evening and what she planned to do, but it was Ramie who answered and she put the phone down without saying anything. Then she sat down at the desk with the tape recorder. She was disturbed just once by Andrea asking whether she should get anything special from the shops.
“Ten CDs,” she said, handing Andrea fifty euros before concentrating again on the voice that spoke a sentence in French, then repeated it in German. It wasn’t an introductory course for tourists who wanted to be able to order a coffee or ask the way, it was an advanced course that demanded her full attention.
Andrea went out. And Dieter, as if he were clairvoyant, rang at that very moment. He cursed when he heard her report. “So that’s it then,” he said. “You’re in for it one way or the other. Blasting’ll go after Hardenberg, and if they get him, he’ll drag Nadia Trenkler in. And if this Dettmer gets Forensic to do what they should have done in the first place, you’re in for it as Susanne Lasko.”
Given the situation, he felt there was no point in his examining Hardenberg’s files himself. He had the names and addresses of the other eight men who had accounts with Alfo Investment. The financial transactions were stored on the laptop. The portable computer was even set up for online banking and allowed you to shift amounts to and fro between various accounts.
“This thing’s priceless,” Dieter said. “Truly. It’s a computer worth twenty million. Only NASA has one like that, if at all.” He was relieved to hear she was going to Paris that very day. “Make sure you get away as quickly as you can,” he advised. “That’s the first place they’ll look for you.”
“That’s what I mean to do,” she said. “I’ll go on to England, I can manage better with the language there.”
“Romania,” Dieter insisted. “I know a few people over there, I might be able to arrange something. They make good documents. Once the dust’s settled I could try to transfer the money to Luxembourg somehow or other. Then you’d have to collect it. But we’ll discuss that later. The first thing to do in France is to find a little guest house somewhere out in the country. Not a big hotel and don’t use your credit card. Take enough ready cash with you. Ring when you’ve found somewhere, then we’ll see what to do next.”
Shortly afterwards Andrea came back with ten CDs. She put the fifty euros back on the desk with them. “They weren’t that expensive. I took it out of the housekeeping, I had to go to the bank anyway.” That was how she learned that Andrea had an account into which a certain sum was paid every month for food and the like.
After Andrea had left the house at two - and the bank had opened again after lunch - she went there herself, presented Nadia’s ID card, as she’d done before, and took out two thousand euros. Hardly enough to finance the great escape, but she didn’t want to arouse suspicion.
After that she copied a number of harmless-looking files for Wolfgang Blasting and put the CDs in an envelope, which she dropped into next door’s letter box. Then it was high time she packed the cases. The maternity trousers, the new blouse, the bras and the baby clothes went right at the bottom, covered by a few pairs of Nadia’s trousers, a few blouses and a warm pullover. She couldn’t take too much or Michael might get suspicious. Anyway, in two months’ time none of the things would fit any more.
She was still packing the cases when Michael came home. He was very distant. He urged her to hurry, took clean underwear from his drawer and went to the bathroom for a quick shower. She put the recorder and language tapes under the pullover in her case and had a look at Nadia’s evening wear.
Paris - for her that meant things like the Moulin Rouge and the Crazy Horse, beautiful women, slim and tall, with feathers on their heads and swirling legs. Once she’d watched one of those shows on late-night TV in her old flat. She was sure Nadia would have actually been there. And Michael was probably planning to go to an exclusive bar. She packed two evening dresses and didn’t forget a corresponding outfit for him.
Then Jo was given a house key so he could cut off the leads of the alarm in an emergency. They went in Michael’s car. On the way there he didn’t say a word, for which she was grateful, in her mind’s eye she could already see herself disappearing somewhere in Paris. The Seine, Notre Dame, the Arc de Triomphe, the Louvre and the Eiffel Tower, that was more or less all she knew about the city. And of the two people with whom she was going to spend the next few hours she knew nothing at all. But that was the least of her worries. After all, she wasn’t going to be there long. A “Nice to see you, Phil” or “Pamela” ought to be sufficient.
In the airport car park she was still on familiar ground. For the last time, it all went to plan. The tickets were there for them at the Lufthansa desk. Michael wanted to check in right away and then have a coffee and a bite to eat. From that point on it was all new to her but it didn’t show, since all she had to do was follow him. He led her to an area of self-service snack bars, fetched two coffees and a piece of fruit flan for himself.
She didn’t feel hungry. The parting lay heavy on her stomach. It sounded so easy: to disappear. To translate it into action was harrowing. To leave all the familiar places and faces behind, first and foremost her mother, perhaps supported by Dieter or Johannes Herzog at Nadia’s graveside, as she had once dreamed. But she intended to ring her mother as soon as was feasible and later on to have her come and live with her. The thought was a comfort, if a small one.
While Michael was eating his cake, it finally struck him that she hadn’t smoked for days. He expressed his surprise that she’d managed to stay off nicotine, given the way things were at the moment.
“It’s not easy,” she said. “I just have to grin and bear it. Both the withdrawal symptoms and your suspicions. How else can I prove to you that I’m no longer the woman you take me to be?”
She had absolutely no idea why she’d said that. But it was out. Perhaps she wanted him to realize, at some point or other, that she’d really loved him in the few days she’d had with him. He didn’t reply, just looked at her thoughtfully.
There was just one awkward moment when Michael pointed out that she hadn’t fastened her safety belt and she didn’t know how to adjust it to fit her. But he ascribed it, as he had all the other moments that threatened to give her away, to her nerves. It didn’t arouse his suspicions.
The plane started to taxi, then accelerated. She felt herself being pressed back against her seat. Then the Boeing took of and it was as if her brain was being squashed down out of her skull. There was immense pressure in her ears and her stomach clenched. She’d never felt so sick before. Mouth wide open, she took deep breaths. Her hands, her forehead, her back, her whole body was damp with sweat.
Far down below the world slewed onto its side. She couldn’t look, she felt as if she was falling and kept her eyes fixed on one of the lockers where hand luggage was stowed. Out of the corner of her eye she saw the grey veil outside the tiny window thicken then suddenly clear. The plane had reached cruising height. Outside it was ablaze with light, the sky a radiant blue. In the gangway the stewardess was explaining where the emergency exits were and how the oxygen masks worked. It felt as if there was something like a whisk going round in her head and stomach. She put her hand over her mouth, trying to suppress the retching.
“What’s wrong, Nadia?” she heard Michael ask.
“I feel sick,” she groaned. She meant to say she felt rather queasy. She was sure that’s what Nadia would have said. “I think I’m going to be sick.” she didn’t just think so, it was already coming up into her throat.
The Lie Page 32