The Lie (25 page)

He dragged her along forcibly towards a parked car. It was the black limousine with the Frankfurt number plate and tinted windows she'd seen at the airport. The stocky man was already in the driver's seat, but he got out when he saw them coming, watching them with an expectant smile on his face. She tried desperately but vainly to pull her arm away. Panting, she said, “If you don't let go at once, I'll scream.”

The man just laughed and said, with mock politeness, “If you'll just bear with us a few moments more, Frau Lasko, you'll have plenty of opportunity for that.” Then he nodded at the stocky man, who opened the rear door of the car. She was pushed forwards, then the grip on her arm slackened and instead she felt a hand in her back. It was almost like the second bank robbery.

How often had she imagined to herself all the things she could have done to avoid ending up with a fractured skull. Hit, kick, bite - anything to stop herself being led away like a lamb to the slaughter. Space was too cramped for hitting or kicking but she managed a reverse jab with her elbow, which landed in the dark-haired man's stomach. He was more surprised than seriously hurt, but he did leave go of her. His companion didn't seem to have expected such a reaction either. His hand went inside his jacket, but she didn't wait to see what he was feeling for, she shot off and ran until her lungs were almost bursting.

Frau Schädlich accepted her explanation that she'd suddenly felt unwell in the bank, though with a thoughtful look, and sent Frau Meul to
collect the change. Then she asked her to come to the office for a private word. “I suggest,” she said, “that you see the doctor about your stomach. Do it on Monday when you have your day off. Then we'll know where we are on Tuesday.”

She just nodded and went back into the shop. She didn't take her eye off the street outside. Through the large shop window she saw the car with the tinted windows drive past twice in the next hour. He'd called her Frau Lasko!

 

There was nothing for it, she had to ring Nadia, but she didn't dare do so from the manageress's office, Frau Schädlich was always close by. Just before closing time she twisted her left ankle so convincingly that Frau Meul offered to drive her to the station so she could get a taxi to the hospital and have her foot X-rayed. She accepted the offer gratefully. There was nothing wrong with her foot, but the route to the bus stop went past several dark corners where a woman could be dragged into a car unnoticed. What if they were still waiting outside? The risk of being seen and caught seemed to be less if she didn't leave the shop by the front door. Frau Meul's car was in the little car park behind the building.

She rang Nadia from a telephone at the station. She tried her mobile first but the number no longer existed. It didn't occur to her to try the mobile Nadia had given her for a few days, she rang her at home, unconcerned that Michael might take the call. After two rings the receiver was lifted. It was Nadia.

She simply said, “It's me. I have to see you immediately - in an hour's time at the station. Your client from the airport spoke to me today. Called me by my own name! He wants his money back, the whole two hundred thousand. If you don't come, I'm going to the police.” She hung up before Nadia could say anything. Then she waited - until almost eleven, growing more nervous with every quarter of an hour that passed and travellers became more sparse, dubious characters more numerous. Nadia didn't come.

Finally she hobbled demonstratively to the taxi rank, got a taxi to Kettlerstrasse and asked the driver to help her up the stairs. Which he did - for a generous tip. After she'd locked the door and put the chain on, she made herself a belated supper. When she got to bed at half-past twelve she was still wide awake and kept hearing imaginary noises on
the stairs. And when the alarm went at six, her head was ringing as well, with the devastating knowledge that Nadia had done some business deals in her name.

On Thursday she left the flat at half-past seven, firmly resolved to get Frau Meul to drive her to the police during the lunch hour. She had the envelope with her meagre proof in the large bag she always took to work. On the bus she kept a look-out for the black limousine. The thought of the five hundred yards from the bus stop to the shop filled her with panic, which she had great difficulty suppressing.

The red Alfa pulled up at precisely the moment the bus drove off. Nadia jumped out. She was wearing an elegant trouser suit and, over it, a padded windcheater with a fur-lined hood, which she'd pulled down over her face. For several seconds they stood staring at each other in the cold and damp. Nadia was beaming at her as if she were a long-lost friend. “Unfortunately I couldn't manage it yesterday evening. Now tell me, what's happened?”

Wavering between anger and relief, she told her about her encounter with the dark-haired man and his chauffeur, bodyguard or whatever. Nadia pooh-poohed her fear. “It's nothing to get excited about. Zurkeulen likes to play the hard man but he can't do anything, he'd have big problems with the tax people if he did and he knows that very well. Believe me, he's harmless.”

Zurkeulen - that was the name opposite the largest sum on the torn-up Alfo Investment sheet. Markus Zurkeulen and well over five million. That he'd only talked of two hundred thousand the previous day did indeed suggest it was just a matter of a bad investment. Still! “For you perhaps,” she said. “But you used my name to—”

She got no further as Nadia broke in, “Book a hotel room,” Nadia said, and claimed that Philip Hardenberg was responsible for the rest. But, she assured her, it was not done with fraudulent intent. Since he knew they'd swapped their identity documents, he'd told his client he would be meeting a Frau Lasko. He'd assumed Zurkeulen would ask to see some ID before handing a large sum in cash over to an unknown woman.

Documents, she thought. Documents, my foot! Nadia had collected a briefcase full of money at the airport. With Schrag and Röhrler it would just have been an envelope. Nadia and Hardenberg were clearly playing
the same game, but in a higher league. As for all the rest, she didn't believe a word Nadia said. The Alin letters one to nine had talked of a “colleague” who would contact the recipients and who was referred to as “she”. She didn't say anything about those letters but described the encounter in such a way that suggested Zurkeulen had mentioned a previous meeting.

“Yes,” Nadia admitted. “He saw me once in Helga's office when he'd come for an appointment with Philip. And then I ran into his bodyguard at the airport because I needed to go to the toilet before I went to meet you in the car park. What could I have done? I could see there might be problems, because I only had my own ID card with me. Fortunately Zurkeulen was happy with the authorization Philip had given me.”

Philip had sorted the matter out later on, Nadia continued, and that was why he'd told Zurkeulen Susanne Lasko had left Alfo Investment. Unfortunately that little firm - Joko Electronics - had gone bust shortly afterwards because their computer chips hadn't sold as well as expected. It was possible Zurkeulen had got hold of the wrong end of the stick there.

She didn't believe the half of it, but there was only one thing that interested her. “Can you give him his money back?”

“No,” Nadia said. “I could make good the loss, but it's Philip who looks after Zurkeulen's portfolio and he's far too cautious. If he'd taken any risks during the last few weeks—”

She cut her short. “Can you at least tell him I've nothing to do with it?”

Nadia nodded and held out her hand, as if to make things up between them. She smiled. “People like Zurkeulen are not exactly the kind of client you'd wish for. Everything has to be absolutely secure, but has to give a high yield and the two can't always be combined. But, to be honest, I'm grateful to him. If it hadn't been for him, you wouldn't have got in touch again. Are you still angry with me?”

She shrugged her shoulders. She couldn't say whether she was angry or not. She was depressed. Nadia was still living as she pleased, while once again she was faced with an uncertain future. She deliberately ignored the proffered hand. Nadia withdrew it. “I hardly dare ask, but do you think you might…”

Before Nadia could finish, she shook her head vehemently.

“Just for two days?” Nadia said enticingly. “It would be a nice little extra for you. I assume you won't exactly be earning a fortune as a shop assistant. And you could fall ill at some point.”

She looked past Nadia, down the street. “Even if I wanted, I can't any longer. I'm pregnant.”

Dumbfounded, Nadia stared at her belly, which as yet showed no signs, put her hand to her mouth and whispered, “Say that again.”

“Why? You heard me the first time.”

Nadia nodded deliberately and asked, “Michael?”

“Well it isn't Heller,” she said.

“Do you want to keep it?” Nadia asked.

“I can't afford to.” Although she fought against it as hard as she could, her eyes filled with tears. “But I can't get rid of it, either. I always wanted a child. And at my age - it could be my last chance.”

Nadia gave her a few seconds to recover her composure. Then she asked, “What if I help you? I got you into this situation, so it's only fair if I help you to deal with the consequences. You'll hardly want to take Michael to court for maintenance. He'll blow his top if he learns he's fathered a little brat. And he'd have to be told how it came about. Then we'd both be in for it.”

“What kind of help do you have in mind?”

“Two thousand a month,” Nadia said. “And a decent flat. As a quid pro quo you'll be prepared to stand in when I need you. Not in the coming months of course, but after the birth, when you've got your figure back. Have we got a deal?”

It would be a heaven-sent opportunity - if Nadia meant it seriously. But could she trust Nadia? She looked at her double sceptically. She searched her face for signs she could take as a guarantee but saw only the usual smile. “I don't know,” she said.

“Give it some serious thought,” Nadia advised her. “I'll go to the office now and have a talk with Philip so we can get this Zurkeulen business sorted out.”

Frau Schädlich, Frau Gathmann and Frau Meul were already in the shop, but none of them had observed the little scene out in the street. Frau Schädlich was completely unsuspecting when, shortly after nine, she called from the office, “Quick, Frau Lasko. There's a nurse from the old folks' home on the line. Your mother's had an accident.”

The receiver was lying on the desk. Her hand was trembling as she picked it up. At first even she was convinced something had happened to her mother. But then Nadia said, “You mother fell down the stairs - at least that's what your boss thinks, so keep up the pretence. The offer I made you just now stands, we can discuss the details when we've more time. Philip's already talked to Zurkeulen, as I have too. I explained that he'd never met you before and also why I was travelling with your ID card.”

She heard a quiet laugh from the other end. “He's always having little affairs himself, I think he was amused. Whether or not, he was certainly understanding. As for the loss, I can recover that in two or three months, if he lets me take over his portfolio. He was very interested, but insisted on seeing me personally. He's in Geneva at the moment. I have an appointment there today anyway, so it fits in very well. But there's a slight problem: I can't see both him and my other client and get back by this evening.”

Frau Schädlich was standing in the doorway, all ears.

“I'm afraid I can't get away at the moment,” she said.

Behind her Frau Schädlich said, “Of course you can, Frau Lasko. It's an emergency. Do you want to phone for a taxi?”

Nadia had heard this. “Say no,” she said. “Tell her you'll take the bus. There's a taxi coming for you. It'll wait where I stopped earlier on.”

 

The driver of the taxi Susanne Lasko got into on the Thursday - it was 28 November - had been given precise instructions as to where she was to be set down. It was beside the Swissair terminal. Nadia was waiting. Already without her rings, ear studs and watch, she had nothing but her handbag, flight bag and a flood of instructions. The Alfa was in the short-term car park. First of all she was to go to the hairdresser's to get her hair trimmed and dyed. The rest she could see to once she was in the house. Then Nadia opened her handbag and took out a wad of banknotes.

“There's five thousand, Susanne. That should help you get through the next three months, and take things easy. In your condition you shouldn't spend hours on your feet. And that ought to give us enough time to find a half-decent flat for you as well.”

She stared at the wad of notes, unable to take it in. But that was not all Nadia had to say, not by a long chalk. “If you want, you could have a job
with Alfo Investment, that would solve all our problems. You don't have to start straight away, you can use the time until the birth for training - computers and foreign languages. You'll need excellent English, but there are courses for that. Behringer's would have borne the cost, now Philip will take care of it. In the meantime he'll also pay for the flat and I'll see to everything else until you're earning enough yourself.”

Later on she could bring the baby to the office, Nadia said, it wouldn't bother anyone, certainly not Philip, he adored children. Of course, she could always employ a nanny. Nadia had no doubt that her salary with Alfo Investment would allow her to do that.

Susanne had to clear her throat before she could reply. She couldn't give an immediate response to Nadia's proposals, so she just asked, “Is there anything particular I have to be aware of with Michael today and tomorrow?”