Strangers: A Novel(53)

“It’s about the big contract,” I cut in. “I’d like to know why I’m being overlooked.”

Gabor only hesitates a couple of seconds. “Come on, what do you mean overlooked? It’s perfectly normal not to involve you in every new deal—”

“No, it isn’t normal. As head of IT I’ve been involved in every new project from the very beginning.”

“Not every project. Only those where IT support was necessary.” It sounds halfhearted.

“And it’s not necessary for this one? The way I see it, this is the biggest fish G.E.E.’s reeled in yet. Someone from my department will have to be involved in some way.”

He hesitates. “I reckon you should recover before you do anything else, that’s the most important thing. And once you’re fully back with us in two or three weeks’ time, we’ll see what’s what. I’ll put you on paid leave until then. What do you say to that?”

You’d like that, wouldn’t you?

“I feel well enough to work. Sitting around at home just makes me jumpy.”

Gabor seems to be thinking, and I let him. The ball’s in his court. It takes quite some time, but then I hear him breathe heavily.

“Very well then, Herr Thieben. If you really want to work instead of recovering, that’s fine with me. Honestly, I only meant well.”

He pauses. I don’t know if he’s waiting for me to say something, and I don’t really care. I say nothing.

“You wanted in, so you’re in. For starters, you can go pick up our two business partners from Munich central station tomorrow. I was actually planning to do it myself, because the two of them are probably the chief negotiators. But you can do that just as well. As my representative.”

Tomorrow’s my birthday. The date from the email. OK then.

“So where are the two of them coming in from, if they’re arriving by train?”

Gabor clears his throat. “They’re in Stuttgart for some other business first, and they’ve set their minds on making their way here on the express train instead of in a comfortable limousine.” He lets out a quick laugh. “Don’t forget, these people invest in environmental protection.”

“What’s the project about?”

“Something big.”

“I realize that, but when do I find out the details?”

“Tomorrow morning, before you drive to Munich. Make sure you’re here at nine. The two of them will be arriving in Munich just after one. You can’t afford to be late, at any cost.”

I can’t claim to be feeling good again all of a sudden, but … at least I’m part of the project. And it was much easier than I’d expected. Maybe Gabor’s even telling the truth and he really didn’t mean any harm when he left me out at first. At least the professional part of my life seems to be slowly getting back on track.

“I’ll be there. And … thank you for reconsidering.”

“Come on, Herr Thieben, stop it. Reconsider … I never had any intention of shutting you out. I didn’t realize it was so important to you to be involved in every project. Especially at the moment, since things in your private life aren’t exactly…”

“Now’s the perfect time,” I respond.

“All right, see you tomorrow morning then. And do be on time.”

He ends the call.

I absentmindedly put the phone down next to me on the couch, reach for the glass, and drink the rest of my vodka in one gulp. All of a sudden, my thoughts are revolving around Joanna again. Against my will and against all reason, but I can’t help it.

Is it because of the conversation with Gabor? Because of the glass of vodka? No idea, but I want to know how she’s doing. Right away.

Unlike Gabor, Ela takes a fairly long time until she finally picks up.

“It’s me,” I say. “I’m at home. How’s Jo?”

Ela doesn’t respond right away, and my hand clenches the telephone. “Ela? Is everything OK with her?”

“Well, I wouldn’t exactly say that, after everything that’s happened. But she’s decided to have herself admitted to a clinic. I think she’s very afraid of what she could do to herself.”





25

The night on Ela’s couch is the worst I can ever remember having. Worse than the one in the pantry, worse than the one I spent hooked up to the oxygen tank in the hospital. It feels as though I only sleep for a few seconds each time before waking up again. Every time I start to drift off, I see Erik before me, with his arm raised and an expression of disbelief on his face; and every time, the knife slices that silvery arc into the air. Except sometimes I don’t plunge it into his arm, but into his chest, his stomach instead. Sometimes even into his face. And every single time I jolt upright, my heart racing, feeling like I’m losing my mind.

At least I know I don’t scream when I wake up, otherwise it would have roused Ela in the adjoining room by now. My horror is a silent one.

By the time I finally give up on sleep, the blue light display on the Blu-ray player is showing 3:16 a.m. I sit up, pull the blanket tightly around my shoulders, and try to make a plan for the day.

Except that it’s Sunday. I won’t be able to get hold of Dr. Schattauer, nor, probably, any other leading doctor. Ela’s assertion that the psychiatric unit in her hospital is particularly good doesn’t convince me. If I’m going to check myself into a clinic, then I want it to be the one with the best experts in amnesia that this country has to offer.