She listened with half an ear, associated Edgar with the Henseler Gallery, Brenner with Jo’s inventions, and contemplated Michael’s profile and his hands on the steering wheel, pondering her mother’s opinion that he had a right to the truth. Of course he had. And the truth was that she was expecting his child and loved him. Nothing else counted, she decided.
Their seats were close to the platform. Along with many others, Wolfgang and Ilona had already taken theirs when they reached the row. Jo and Lilo went in first, followed by Michael, leaving her the aisle seat, thus making it impossible for Wolfgang to give her a telling-off.
The large hall was filled with the murmur of quiet conversation. Almost immediately after they’d sat down the platform also filled as well. Jacques Niedenhoff made his entrance once all the other musicians were settled. Like a young god in white tie and tails, he came to the microphone and said a few words. He had a pleasant voice with a strong French accent. Most of his welcome or explanation was drowned out in a torrent of applause. Jacques bowed and sat down at the piano.
It was exactly as she had imagined it, completely without risk. And it was a quite special kind of enjoyment. A large space filled with music, nothing but music. She had no idea what was being played, but the violins brought a lump to her throat. It was so beautiful she couldn’t find words for it. She was glad she hadn’t let Dieter persuade her not to go, she could have sat there listening and enjoying the music for ever. Michael next to her was listening with his eyes closed. It was perfect, two hours of perfection.
Then Jacques got up and bowed. There was thunderous applause and voices calling for an encore. Nadia’s Jacques, mon chéri ignored them, thanked the audience again and disappeared. The other musicians followed and the audience started to get up and leave.
Michael stayed in his seat until the worst of the crush was over. Leaning across Jo and Lilo, he was talking to Wolfgang. The only thing she heard was: “With a helmet or not at all.”
He wasn’t pleased with Wolfgang’s reply. As they went out to the car park Michael was still going on at him vehemently. Ilona shook her head in frustration several times, while Lilo listened intently. Jo, who was walking beside her, was also getting worked up. “I don’t know what Wolfgang’s thinking. He can’t ask you to—”
She didn’t let him finish. “It’ll be OK,” she said. “Don’t worry, so far luck’s been on my side.”
Jo gave her an odd glance, but said nothing. Michael was already in the car and drove off the moment they were in. “Wolfgang’s going to get a motorbike for you.” He said, satisfaction in his voice. “Then you won’t just have a bulletproof vest, he’ll get you a helmet from the special unit as well.”
“Are you crazy?” she exclaimed. “I’m not going on a motorbike, I’m going in my car.”
“Be reasonable, Nadia. If Zurkeulen shoots…”
“He won’t do that,” she said. “He just wants his money back.”
Jo joined in. “Yes, you must be reasonable, Nadia. Zurkeulen can’t afford to let you go.”
They almost got into an argument. Of course Michael knew that she hadn’t been on a motorbike for ages, though he didn’t mention when the last time had been. She couldn’t imagine Nadia on a motorbike, it wasn’t marked in her driving licence. “But with a little practice…” Michael said. It was for her own safety. She could familiarize herself with the bike on Tuesday.
“Out of the question,” she declared. “In any other way, yes, but not like that.”
In the heat of the argument, she didn’t notice that they weren’t heading back to the autobahn. She only realized when Michael asked Jo if he thought they’d be able to park at the hotel. “I don’t know,” Jo said, “but I assume we can.”
She didn’t dare ask for an explanation, but that quickly turned out to be unnecessary. Lilo wondered whether Eleanor Ravatzky would be bringing half a dozen uninvited colleagues to Jacques’s reception again. The possibility of a reception hadn’t occurred to her. The unavoidable meeting with Jacques made her very nervous.
But she relaxed when she saw the mass of people. Taking her arm, so as not to lose her in the crush, Michael led her into the crowded room. Unknown faces wherever she looked. The few she recognized were those of two politicians and other media celebrities. Wolfgang and Ilona were nowhere to be seen. Jo and Lilo plunged into the throng and disappeared as well.
A waiter, squeezing his way between the evening gowns with his fully laden tray, offered them champagne or orange juice. Michael took a glass of champagne for himself and put an orange juice in her hand. She placed it back on the tray.
“I can’t drink that any more. Recently it’s been giving me heartburn.”
Michael told the waiter to bring her a glass of mineral water. “But no lemon, please,” she said. “That doesn’t agree with me any more either.”
While they were waiting for her mineral water, he finally had the chance to ask her what had come out of her meeting with Hardenberg. “I don’t think we’re going to have any more problems,” she told him. “Philip said the others had merely been credited with the sums.”
With a snort of contempt, he said, “And you believe him?”
“Yes,” she replied. “He was still in shock and almost out of his mind with worry about Helga. I don’t think he was lying.”
The waiter brought the mineral water. Michael took her arm again and led her through the crowd, slowly but inexorably towards a group on the edge of which were Wolfgang, Ilona, Jo, Lilo, Frederik and Eleanor Ravatzky. The actress was engaged in animated conversation with Frederik. At the centre of the group was Jacques Niedenhoff.
It was the same feeling as she’d had at the bank when Zurkeulen had turned back at the glass door and come straight towards her. Just as in the bank, turning her face to the side was no use here either. Jacques spotted her and fought his way through the crowd, saving them having to take the last few steps. When he got there, he grasped her hands and help both to his lips, as old Barlinkow had done at Lilo’s party. He spoke with a strong accent, as he had on the platform. “I am glad that you have come, Nadia.”
She thought his accent charming, his behaviour brazen. Her heart started pounding unpleasantly. He didn’t just look at her, he devoured her with his eyes. Despite the presence of Michael, he caressed her with his looks - and not only her face. The red gown had a provocatively plunging neckline. But Michael didn’t bat an eyelid.
Summoning up her courage - and grasping Michael’s arm a little tighter - she put on an arrogant smile, gave her voice a mocking tone and said, “Oh, but I wouldn’t have missed it for the world, mon chéri. That wasn’t the worst I’ve heard you play tonight, not by any means.”
Jacques sketched a bow and replied in similarly mocking tones, “Merci bien.”
And that seemed to be it. Wolfgang took her aside and gave her a real tongue-lashing. What the fuck was the point, he said, of getting his men to sacrifice their free weekend to make sure she was safe, if she was going to go swanning around all over the place?
“Simmer down, Wolfgang,” she said. “I came back in one piece, didn’t I?”
“And where did you go?”
“To see Lasko. I thought he might tell me a bit more about his ex. I was wrong.”
Michael and Jacques were engrossed in a conversation in which Michael demonstrated that he knew considerably more about music than she had supposed. He was familiar with Tchaikovsky’s first piano concerto and he could tell that Jacques had modified de Falla’s Fire Dance a little. She didn’t even know when, during the two hours, she’d been listening to Tchaikovsky and when to a fire dance. She sipped her mineral water and looked at the unknown faces all around.
Professor Danny Kemmerling emerged from the throng. On his arm was a creature less than half his age wearing jeans embroidered with pearls and a tight velvet bodice. And he’d told her how much his wife was looking forward to the concert. For a couple of seconds she wondered whether it was his daughter. The y
oung thing beamed at her, all the while peering past her at Jacques, and said, “I hope Danny thanked you properly. It was a fantastic experience.”
The cheery voice sounded familiar. And with the laid-back Danny on her arm it wasn’t difficult to make the connection. It was the woman who’d answered when she’d phoned the lab to ask to speak to Kemmerling. Clearly even professors weren’t immune to the charms of a little laboratory mouse.
Michael exchanged a few words with the professor’s girlfriend and a few with the professor. Jacques took the opportunity to turn to her again. Since he suddenly switched to French, and very fast French at that, she didn’t understand a word.
She gave him one of Nadia’s haughty smiles and said, “I hope you don’t mind, mon chéri, but before we chat I must get something to eat.” The trick with food clearly worked in all situations. Ignoring his look of pique, she turned round and left the group. Jacques spoke to Michael again and out of the corner of her eye she saw Michael introduce him to Kemmerling’s girlfriend.
A sumptuous buffet was laid out at the side of the room. She found a plate and sauntered along the besieged tables. No one took any notice of her and she took no notice of anyone else. She lost sight of the group round Jacques and concentrated on selecting her food. The salads represented a certain risk, because she couldn’t identify all the ingredients for certain. Meat and cheese were no problem but were blockaded at the moment.
As she was wondering whether to take some smoked salmon from the middle of the dish, where it was untouched by the slices of lemon, a hand was suddenly placed on her shoulder. Jacques was close behind her and said something. All she could understand was “Ma chérie”. But his look was clear.
With the hand on her shoulder, he turned her to face him. His eye wandered down, paused at her neckline then continued its descent, ending up either on her plate or her stomach, she couldn’t precisely say which. According to Dieter’s Advanced French Course he was asking her if she couldn’t decide.
“I have decided,” she said.
At that Jacques, with a mocking smile, subjected her to a longish lecture, which included Michael’s name twice and once the word with which the doctor in Paris had caused such confusion and rejoicing. Could he be asking who the father was? Not knowing exactly what he had asked made her more than just nervous. But she had to make sure he understood her. “Speak German,” she demanded. “You can, you know.”
He frowned, irritated, but did as she asked. “Michael says that you’ve got problems.”
“None I can’t manage,” she replied.
He looked round. He clearly felt uncomfortable with so many people in the immediate vicinity. Naturally everyone knew him, some were smiling at him and even appeared to be following their conversation. He switched back to French, took her arm and drew her away with him.
Thanks to Dieter’s cassettes she was familiar with a few of the words. Sea, house and Nassau needed no translation. Presumably he was talking about the villa with its own beach that Michael had refused. Jacques seemed to regret that. Not wanting to ask him to speak German again, so as not to arouse his suspicions, she concentrated hard and picked up a word or two here, a syllable there. She began to form the distinct impression that not only did he know about Nadia’s plans, but he was at the centre of them. That, at least, was her interpretation of his agitation.
He mentioned Wolfgang, Luxembourg and six million, then went back to Nassau and the bank there, immediately going on to talk about her baby. He seemed to imagine the child was his. And the villa with the beach on the Bahamas was still for sale. She was pretty sure she’d understood that correctly.
By now they’d reached the end of the buffet. Beyond it was a door, which led God knows where. He was drawing her gently but unerringly towards the door. She jerked her arm free of his grip. “Non!” she said firmly, throwing her head back and pushing a stray lock of hair behind her ear. “I’m sorry if I raised your hopes, but lots of things have changed in the last few weeks. The baby’s Michael’s and I’m not going to leave him. Nor am I going to move abroad. I like it here. I hope you can accept that.”
With a look of incomprehension, Jacques muttered something that sounded like an oath and made a gesture to his forehead that was understandable in any language.
“I know I’m crazy,” she said, “but you must understand that I’m not crazy about you any more.”
He clearly understood but he was just as clearly unhappy about it. He engulfed her in a torrent of words and grasped her shoulder again. Shaking herself free, she snarled, “Don’t cause a scene, dammit. And if Michael gets to hear anything of this, I’ll wring your neck.”
He looked as if he was going to respond, but then, with a gesture indicating it was futile, turned on his heel and left her standing, staring at a mountain of something or other at the end of the long table. Once he had vanished from view, she turned her attention back to the by now considerably depleted spread.
Shortly afterwards she set off, with a well-filled plate, to look for Michael. By this time the group where she’d left him had dispersed. Kemmerling and his girlfriend were nowhere to be seen. She spotted Eleanor Ravatzky and Ilona in the crowd but she didn’t feel like asking them where Michael was. Wolfgang was talking to one of the two politicians and she didn’t want to interrupt.
She ate her food first then took her plate back and continued looking for Michael. Lilo and Frederik told her he’d gone to the buffet with Jo a while ago. She was somewhat alarmed. The idea that he might have witnessed her scene with Jacques didn’t bear thinking about. Saying a quick prayer, she looked for him with growing unease. But her fears were unfounded. He appeared from outside, alone and immensely relieved to see her. “Thank God. I’ve been looking for you everywhere.”
Jo was still looking - in the car park. They went out together to relieve the poor guy. “All those people were making my head whirl,” Michael said. “Anyone who’s determined enough can get in without an invitation.”
“Then let’s go home,” she suggested. He immediately went to fetch her coat. Jo and Lilo could get a lift from Wolfgang.
She had an excellent night’s sleep on Sunday. When the buzzing started in the bathroom and Michael kissed her on the back of the neck, a few fleeting images from her dream came back to mind. It hadn’t been a nightmare. He’d put the baby in her arms and watched her suckle it.
He went to the bathroom and, thirty minutes later, to the garage. But not before he’d begged her a hundred times to be careful. And she’d told him just as many times that nothing would happen that day because she was just collecting the money and Wolfgang wouldn’t let her out of his sight. Then he reappeared, just as she was drying her hair. “Can I take your car?” he asked. “You don’t need it if you’re going with Wolfgang.”
“Will you never learn?” she asked.
He gave an embarrassed laugh. “Sorry. Filling up was the last thing on my mind yesterday. Wouldn’t you rather take a motorbike tomorrow?”
“Darling,” she said, “I really don’t think riding a motorbike’s a good idea in my condition. Just imagine if I fell off.” That made sense to him.
Shortly after seven Wolfgang was already there at the door with her old driving licence, her ID card and a passport she’d never applied for. “Nervous?” he asked.
“No,” she said.
Wolfgang seemed tense. During the journey he explained again what was to happen once she’d received Zurkeulen’s money. She really didn’t need to worry, he assured her. He’d wire her up and have a dozen men covering her. She was hardly listening. What did she care about his dozen men? For her there was only one who mattered, the one who, before he’d gone down to the garage for the second time, had said, “It would be more than I could bear if anything happened to you tomorrow.”
They reached the outskirts of Luxembourg shortly before eleven, which gave them time for a brief rest. Wolfgang suggested a leisurely breakfast and found a small café near the bank. They spen
t half an hour over croissants, milky coffee and a discussion of what was to happen the next day. Then he handed her a briefcase, told her the combination to the locks, showed her how to attach it securely to her wrist and sent her off. “Don’t worry,” he said, “I’ll be right behind you.”
For Nadia it would presumably all have been a matter of course: entering the bank, asking for the manager, reminding him of their telephone conversation and receiving six million euros. She felt as if she were in a film. But there were no problems. The money was ready, high-denomination notes in thin sealed bundles. It didn’t even look that much.
They checked her identity documents, full of understanding for her client’s difficulties, and helped her pack the bundles so that they all fitted in her briefcase. By the time she’d attached it to her wrist, she couldn’t remember what she’d said about her client and his difficulties. Something or other. By now she was an expert at that.
Wolfgang was waiting for her at the entrance. His hand inside his jacket, he covered her as they went to his Rover. He demanded the identity documents back immediately but the briefcase stayed where it was, chained to her wrist. It lay on her lap during the whole of the drive home. Six million! And somewhere there were another fourteen.
They were back by the late afternoon. Michael wasn’t home yet. Wolfgang had had to withdraw his men, at the start of the new week they had other obligations. He thought it wasn’t worth asking for police protection for the last day and thus involving other departments. He went into the house with her, unlocked the handcuff from her wrist and told her to take the money up to the safe.
The Lie Page 38