Strangers: A Novel(70)

“I … oh, I don’t know. I just have this feeling that it’s best if he thinks you’re dead. We don’t know if we can really believe him.”

Joanna’s right. It could be advantageous if they think I’m dead.

“All right. But Bernhard said you had to get out of here right now. If he was telling the truth, that could mean they might be here any sec—” The phone in my hand begins to vibrate.

Joanna doesn’t have the caller saved in her contacts, of course, but I know the number showing on the screen regardless.

“It’s Nadine,” I say, staring at the sequence of digits. “What does she want? And at this time of night too?”

“Don’t answer it,” Joanna implores me.

I nod and place the smartphone onto the table, slowly and cautiously, as if Nadine would be able to notice overly hurried movements on her phone even without the connection having been established. I can guess at what’s going on inside Joanna’s head. “You think Nadine might be in on it too?”

Joanna purses her lips. “I find it strange, at the very least, that she should call now, of all moments. And how does she have my number anyway?”

I shrug resignedly. “If Nadine wanted your number it’d be easy for her to get it. She’s probably had it for months.”

The phone stops ringing. First Bernhard and now Nadine—it’s like they’d arranged it. But whatever, I’m going to take Bernhard’s warning seriously. “We have to get out of here.”

Joanna nods without hesitation. Her eyes wander through the living room like she was saying her good-bye to this place, a place in which I’ve spent wonderful times with her, even though in Joanna’s mind it was probably just her home and nothing more. Thinking about that is still unsettling for me. More so, probably, than everything else happening around us right now.

I have to know what’s behind all of this. Why Gabor sent me to Munich and what he and Bernhard have to do with this explosion. Nadine too, maybe.

In some far corner of my mind, a voice whispers that I still can’t be sure Joanna’s not in cahoots with Gabor. It’s quiet, this voice, but insistent. I don’t listen to it.

“You should call Gabor.”

“What? Why would I do that?”

“He probably assumes you know about me driving to Munich, and that I was meant to pick someone up from the train station. By now, pretty much everyone will have heard about what happened there. So you would know I was at the station when it blew up. And I’m not home yet, nor am I picking up the phone. Wouldn’t it be normal for you, my fiancée, to be calling around frantically if you can’t reach me? Especially to my office? But no one’s there at this time. So you’d think of something else.”

“Yes, I most likely would. In fact I really was in that situation when I turned on the TV. I almost went crazy with worry.”

When I think of the moment I came back home, of her reaction, her relief—I really want to believe her.

“This Gabor, what kind of person is he?” she asks as she picks up the phone from the table.

“The more helpless you act, the easier you’ll have it with him.”

“Oh yes, I know the type all right.”

I know Gabor’s number by heart. I tap it into Joanna’s phone. “One more thing—when you talk to him, at least imagine we’re engaged and that you love me.”

She gives me a look I can’t decipher. “I’ll put it on speaker again, OK?”

“Yes, but hold your phone to your ear all the same when you’re talking; that way he won’t notice anything on his end.”

The phone only rings twice, then he picks up.

“Hello, this is Joanna Berrigan.” Joanna’s talking very quickly. She really does sound worried, almost hysterical. “You probably don’t know me. I’m Erik’s fiancée. Erik Thieben. He was meant to go pick someone up for you from Munich central station today. Where that explosion happened. I’ve been trying to reach him for ages, but he’s not picking up his phone. I’m … I’m really worried. Have you heard anything from him?”

Several seconds of silence; then Gabor calmly says, “Good evening, Frau Berrigan. That’s right, he was meant to pick up two business partners from the station. He hasn’t checked in yet. We’ve already called the police, but they haven’t been able to tell us anything yet. But…”

There’s a pause, then Gabor keeps talking, in a breathy tone. “That doesn’t mean something’s happened to him.”

You goddamn phony, I think, feeling a strong urge to knock the teeth clean out of his mouth.

“He told me he was meant to be at the station just after one. That’s exactly the time the explosion happened.” Joanna’s doing very well indeed. Her despair sounds convincing.

“Yes, that’s right, but it doesn’t necessarily mean anything. The police said not all of the wounded had been accounted for yet. That also goes for those with minor injuries, who were sent to the hospital for observation. It could take until tomorrow, they said. And it’s also possible that he suffered a shock, if he really was close by when the explosion took place. I know it must be difficult for you right now, but all we can do is wait.”

“Wait? But how can I just sit around and do nothing, I—”