Strangers: A Novel(75)

Phoenix. There it is again, the name of that ominous project. I have to force myself to stay quiet, to not throw open the door and run into the living room.

“Phoenix,” Joanna says as Nadine pauses. “I’ve not heard anything about it. What is it?”

Very good, Joanna.

“I don’t know. Erik mentioned it to me when he asked me about the project. And, I got a call this morning from Bernhard Morbach. You know him, right? He was all nervous, like he was in a real rush. He wanted me to come meet him, outside the office at that, and I was supposed to bring him a USB flash drive that was taped underneath his desk. I didn’t want to at first because the whole thing seemed weird, but then he said it was a matter of life and death, so I agreed to do it.”

She pauses.

“And then?” Joanna’s tone is more gentle than before.

“We met at the edge of the parking area. Bernhard looked awful. Pale, unkempt, just not like himself. And the way he was looking at me. He had this crazed expression, somehow. He said that Erik…” Sobbing, again. “He said he thought Erik was dead. And that they were after him.”

“They?” Joanna asks, when Nadine doesn’t continue.

“I don’t know who.” Nadine is almost wailing now. “Probably those Islamists.”

“Islamists?” Joanna repeats loudly.

“Yes, the ones who blew up the train station. There’s that video, you know, where they declare it was them. Didn’t you see? It was on the radio and in the papers this morning. Probably on TV too.”

A video claiming responsibility. This is getting more convoluted by the second. What does Gabor have to do with Islamists? Gabor, of all people, a man who practically refuses to get into a cab if there’s a foreign person driving it. How the hell does all of this fit together?

I have to see this video.

“No, I … I haven’t turned the TV on today,” Joanna explains.

“Bernhard’s involved in the whole thing from the looks of it. He said he didn’t know how far they’d go. And that I was in danger as well, since I asked about the project and they believe Erik must have told me something.”

“But what’s he meant to have told you?”

“I don’t know.” Nadine’s voice sounds composed all of a sudden. “I thought maybe he’d talked to you about it.”

“No, he didn’t. I’m afraid I really can’t help you, Nadine.”

“Are you sure?” I’m familiar with this habit of Nadine’s, of persistent questioning. She’s not going to let it go easily now. “The attack, it was Islamists who did it. Our lives mean nothing to them. So please, you have to tell me what you know. Everything.”

Joanna sighs. “There’s nothing to tell. All I can tell you is that Bernhard called me yesterday evening as well. And he told me something similar.” There’s a pause. “Recently, things haven’t been easy for Erik and me. I was all over the place for a while, as I’m sure you know. We hadn’t discussed his job in weeks; there were other things we had to talk about. More important things. Our relationship was on the line, we didn’t really have time to chat about work projects or things like that.”

Joanna’s really good at this. Maybe Nadine is telling the truth and she really is scared, but it could just as well be the case that she’s in cahoots with them. That Gabor sent her to find out if Joanna knows anything. I’m more inclined to assume the latter, and Joanna obviously sees it the same way as me.

“Would you leave then, please? I think we’ve talked over everything, and I’d like to be by myself now.”

“But…” I can picture Nadine’s expression, searching for a reason to stay. “I mean, we’re in the same boat here. We’re both worried about Erik.”

“You’re wrong about that,” Joanna responds coolly. “We’re not at all in the same boat.”

“I was hoping maybe I could—”

“No. Leave now. Please.”

I’m out of the pantry as soon as the front door clicks shut, and in the living room with a few swift steps. I turn on the TV, zap through the channels. Series, soaps, but also special broadcasts about the attack. The video is mentioned but never shown.

“You think she’s telling the truth?” Joanna asks from behind me. I turn to face her.

“I don’t know. I’m trying to find that video. Islamists and Gabor. I can’t get my mind around anything anymore. He doesn’t just hate them, he despises them, with all of his heart. If he’s really in league with them, he must have made a tidy sum out of it.”

Joanna nods. “Anyone can be bought. It’s just a matter of price. If there’s one thing I learned from my dad, that’s it.” She indicates toward the door with her chin. “Hang on, I’ll get my laptop, we’ll definitely be able to find the video online.”

We sit next to each other on the sofa when she gets back. I watch Joanna navigating through Web pages. “I don’t trust Nadine. I wouldn’t be surprised if Gabor sent her.”

Joanna’s found the video on a news platform in the meantime. She glances over at me and clicks on the play button.

Symbols in Arabic appear onscreen, red against a black background. Flames around the edges. The image becomes indistinct; then a figure can be made out, all in black and hooded but for a narrow eye slit. A black flag is wafting away in the background. The man starts talking, and I can’t believe my ears—his German is flawless, with no trace of an accent.