Woman of the Dead (22 page)

They make their way through Munich like tourists, without exchanging a word. Reza and Blum have made it to the hill; Ludwig’s garden is in their sights. Like thieves, they hide behind trees for hours on end, because Ludwig isn’t home. No children, no wife, just an empty house in Bogenhausen. The information that Ludwig’s production company gave them is incorrect. With every hour that passes, they doubt themselves more. All they can do is wait. Massimo keeps phoning, and Blum gives evasive answers. He is worried about her. Afternoon comes, then evening. They hold out hope that the family has just gone shopping, that they will come round the corner and they can put their plan into action at last. But that doesn’t happen. When darkness falls, the house is still empty. And Blum is hungry. She worries about the children, she is tired and impatient, she wants to get this over and done with. She begins to resent Reza’s silence. He has hardly said a word all day. He just sits beside her, staring at the house. Blum has no idea what is going through his head but he doesn’t share her annoyance at the wasted day. His face is calm, devoid of stormy weather. Reza has a task, to wait for Benjamin Ludwig, and he will not move from his post an inch until the task is complete. Blum knows that he would sit here all night, so she persuades him to come with her down the hill, to find a hotel with a restaurant. Blum wants to rest, to take her mind off Ludwig, Dunya and Mark just for a while. She wants to draw breath, make a short phone call to Karl and have a drink. Tomorrow is another day, she says.

Reza and Blum are at the reception desk of a small hotel. Blum doesn’t stop to think,
A double room for one night, please
comes out quite naturally. Instinct tells her that it is the right thing to do. She doesn’t want to be alone and he says nothing; there is a quiet understanding between them. Reza will stay with her. Here he is at the bar beside her, because Blum doesn’t feel like sleeping yet, and she is worried about the children. She has phoned Karl and told him she will be back later than expected, has asked him to look after the children overnight and for the day tomorrow. Karl doesn’t say yes immediately, as he usually would. He hesitates. Something is wrong; she senses that he had other plans. But Karl doesn’t want to upset Blum by refusing.
We’ll manage all right
, he says.
Don’t worry, Blum. You do whatever it is you have to do and then come home
. Then he ends the call, leaving her with Reza.

They are together at the bar, because she still doesn’t feel like sleeping. She isn’t ready to go to their room and lie down beside him. They don’t talk about the room or her need not to be alone. Reza makes it easy for her, acting as if it were the most normal thing in the world, as if they were friends who just happen to be sharing a room. He orders wine for Blum and beer for himself. With every sip he becomes more talkative. Reza respects her request not to mention Ludwig, so he talks about the children, new models of coffins, their plans to renovate the preparation room. It feels good to be talking and drinking in a hotel somewhere in Bogenhausen. Benjamin Ludwig isn’t important. Nothing is important, nothing hurts them, nothing threatens them. They drink glass after glass, and everything is simple and easy. Reza makes Blum laugh. They remember the lighter moments of their profession, eccentric wishes, difficult family members. They remember all that they have shared in the last seven years, their time in the preparation room, the countless dead bodies they have collected, the funerals they have attended. Reza was always by her side. Reza orders more wine, more beer, and he smiles, and the smile does her good. There is more between them than work. Blum puts her arms round him.
Come on, come and dance with me
.

They dance in the little hotel bar, skirting the tables and chairs. Although Reza can’t dance, he lets her win him over. Briefly, he protests, but then he goes along with her. Blum beams at him. She just wants to dance, close her eyes, let him lead her, listen to the music, sense whether he can hold her properly. It would never have entered Blum’s head to think of Reza as more than a colleague, a friend, her husband’s protégé. It never occurred to her that he might touch her; that their breath might mingle. They turn on the dance floor, slowly. Reza moves carefully past the bar furniture, holding Blum in his arms, her head on his shoulder.

Upstairs they glide, with another bottle of wine – just in case – through the door and into the little bedroom. Blum disappears into the bathroom for a moment, and he sits on the bed. Night has fallen in Bogenhausen. Blum comes out of the bathroom and stands in front of him. Reza doesn’t move. He holds the bottle silently, staring up at her. Blum stands there, naked.

Blum does all the talking. If Benjamin Ludwig says a word, one of his children will die. He knows Blum is serious. Reza shot at the tree that Ludwig was standing beside, a bullet is lodged in the trunk. The impact was brief and barely audible, but it was quite enough to show Benjamin Ludwig that the people on the hill mean business. They are going to shoot one of his children – then both of them, if he doesn’t keep his mouth shut. Blum tells him what he is to do. He is to listen. She tells him what she knows and then she threatens him.
First I will kill the boy
.
Then the girl. Then your wife, then you
.

How happy the family looked in the garden. Reza and Blum didn’t have long to wait. Ludwig turned up ten minutes ago, soon after they arrived back behind their tree. The children ran to their swing, his wife went into the house.

Ludwig stands there as if rooted to the spot. The children are calling to him, wanting him to join them, to push them high in the air on the swing. The good father who takes care of his children, the good father who raped a child. Youn was seventeen when they put him in the cellar. Blum has listened again to everything Dunya had to say about the huntsman. What he, Benjamin Ludwig, did to them. Now Benjamin Ludwig listens to what Blum has to say, with his phone to his ear, and his eyes searching the slope. But he doesn’t say another word; he is afraid of hearing another shot. The gun has a silencer, no one heard the first shot, no one can help him. There is only Blum’s voice telling him to pack a bag and take his passport with him, to say goodbye to his wife and children. He must think up some pretext, she tells him, invent a reason for his sudden departure.
Lie to them
.
Now, go into the house, pack your things, say goodbye and come back out. Then get into your bloody car
.

When she saw it, Blum struggled to breathe. The Rover, here. She hadn’t expected to see that car ever again. But there it was, outside the house, with children clambering out of the back seat. Blum ends the call and Ludwig disappears into the house. For a few minutes she and Reza are alone. Together with her fury and hatred, she has the sudden answer to her question. Who was driving the car? Who killed Mark? The car really exists, it was in Bavaria all along. It belongs to a world which was still intact. There it is, in front of her, coming down the road.

Her husband’s murderer is sitting in front of her, his overnight bag is on the back seat. Ludwig has done as she told him. He emerged from the house after four minutes, his wife standing in the doorway waving him goodbye. Benjamin Ludwig was in a hurry; he had to make sure the children were out of firing range, he had to protect them and his wife. He had to do as Blum said. He stopped, and they got in. The pistol is in Reza’s hand. Blum has no idea where it came from. They discussed their need for a gun and the gun materialised.
I’ll see to that
, Reza had said. Now the gun is in his hand, forcing Benjamin Ludwig to drive towards Starnberg. He is silent, still: Blum doesn’t want to hear his lies and excuses, she doesn’t want to hear him beg, whimper or wail. There’s only the gun in his back, the past, and Reza by her side.

All night, her naked body lay against his. She just wanted to feel his skin, to undress him, disappear in him, plunge into him, and let herself fall. She would have let it happen with a clear conscience, she would have taken and given everything, because she thought it was time to give him something in return. Something like love, a sense of gratitude. She was curious, too. Blum wanted to know what he would smell like, what his tongue would taste like moving in her mouth. What his hands would do as he thrust into her. She wanted to feel him, all of him, continue dancing with their eyes closed. But ten hours ago, his eyes said
no.

Benjamin Ludwig drives through the city. Reza gives him directions; they have to make a stop before they reach the lake. They need cartons, clingfilm and sticky tape. They stop in the car park of a DIY store, one car in a sea of cars. Reza hands Blum the gun and goes into the store, leaving Blum alone with Ludwig. The actor and the undertaker sit in silence for ten long minutes. He is too afraid to turn around, he feels the barrel of the gun in his neck. Blum is pressing it firmly against him. She would like to pull the trigger, eliminate him just like that, send this man who looks squeaky clean to hell, tell the world what he is really like, what he’s done. She wants to kill him here and now, in a car park somewhere on an industrial estate in Munich. She would like to hurt him, tell him she loved the man he knocked down and killed, that he meant everything to her: Mark, the father of her children. She thinks of him playing with Uma and Nela in the garden. A family that isn’t a family any more. It would take only a second to kill him. A single shot and it would be over. Now, before Reza comes back to stow his purchases in the boot. Before he gets back into the car and tells Ludwig to drive on.

But they get the TV star to chauffeur them to Starnberg as though it is the most normal thing in the world. Slowly, they skirt the lake. Summer is almost over, many of the houses stand empty. Rich people’s villas, boathouses, holiday homes. Reza directs him; they are looking for the perfect house, a house with a drive they can disappear down in broad daylight. No one will notice. It will just be an expensive car parked outside an expensive house, three people getting out of the car and going down to the water through a large garden. There’s only a fence to be climbed; they carry their rucksack, bags and cartons with them. Reza, Blum and Ludwig are quite the trio. He walks ahead of them and keeps turning round, looking for a way to escape. Because he knows that this is the end, the end of everything.

When Reza fell asleep, his fingers stayed on Blum’s skin. He was tipsy and tired. She didn’t move, she wanted to stay close to him and not move an inch. It was for the best that he turned her down, that he didn’t just accept her body, her mouth, her breasts. She would have followed through, she wanted to. But Reza just took her hand and looked at her. Blum could see how much he liked her. He wanted her, but he restrained himself.

But now there is no restraint or embarrassment, now he is Blum’s faithful little soldier, functioning like a machine. He forces the lock and opens the door. There’s no alarm, only a beautiful old boathouse which has lain untouched for weeks. It is the perfect place to talk to Ludwig. No one will hear him; the house next door stands empty too, and on the other side of the boathouse there is only woodland. It won’t matter how long and loud he screams. Reza spreads tarpaulin on the floor as if he were about to lay the table. He takes tools out of his rucksack, places the sticky tape and clingfilm within reach. The preparations are over quickly, giving Ludwig no time to work out what is going to happen next. He hops from one foot to another, wanting to run far and fast, but the gun in Blum’s hand prevents this.

She didn’t sleep all night. She didn’t want the feeling to stop, didn’t want Reza to get up and leave her. She wanted to go on feeling it as long as possible, until morning when he opened his eyes, and began caressing her back again. Reza carried on where he had left off. But then she said it was time to go back to the house and to the nightmare. Now Reza is hitting him with an oar and tying him up with sticky tape, binding his hands and feet. Night is mingling with day, life with Mark is mingling with her life now. A life in which people die, and die when she wants them to.

Blum stands there watching as if she had nothing to do with it, as if she were a rubber-necker at an accident, eager to satisfy her curiosity. The boathouse contains a rowing boat, a small launch with an electric motor, and Benjamin Ludwig, who is screaming. He has come round and can feel the sticky tape, realises how hopeless his situation is. He can’t control himself any longer, he has to act. First he curses, insulting them. Then he calms down, breathes deeply in and out, and pulls himself together. The actor is rehearsing before he comes on stage to play his part and tell the truth. He will try to save his life by talking, because he guesses what is coming, because he knows the others are dead or have disappeared. Because he knows that these two mean business. He can read that in Blum’s face; nothing in her features gives him reason to hope. All he can do is talk and speak nothing but the truth.
If you lie to me you’re dead
. She is sitting on the floor beside him, the gun in her hand. She is very close now. She presses the barrel to Ludwig’s forehead.

While Blum talks to him, Reza moves away. You will answer my questions. Keep your answers short and to the point. I won’t ask twice. His questions remain unanswered. What are you going to do to me? What do you want from me? Why are you doing this? Where are Schönborn and Puch? You abducted them. Are they still alive? Are they dead? But Blum’s gun is against his forehead and she wants the truth about the cellar: where it is, how it came to be, why five men decided to throw off their inhibitions and act like animals, brutes who observed no rules. Blum wants to know, something in her wants to comprehend the incomprehensible, understand how such a thing can come to pass, a place where anything went, a place that traded on violence and humiliation, punishment and penance. How it lasted five long years. The cellar is in Kitzbühel. It is underneath the restaurant. I own the house, it was our holiday home. We converted it. It was Puch’s idea. We were drunk at the time. He thought it all up. We would eat well then play games in the cellar. Five men realising a dream. Five lucky men.