‘It was my first theory, yes. The cellar in the forest. A shot in the dark, to be honest, but when we found your mobile down there I knew I’d been right.’
‘M-mine and… N-Nora’s.’
‘No. Just yours. But you weren’t there. Then we found the sign on the slats of the shed, a six, and everything became clear.’
‘Sigart,’ whispered Beatrice. ‘D-do you already know, w-where…’
‘No. I’m not sure, but I thought I saw someone disappearing into the forest as we arrived. Maybe it was him, maybe it was just an animal.’
Had he waited? To find out how their bet would turn out? ‘I w-w-won,’ she whispered. ‘Florin? My mobile. P-please.’
‘Really?’
She nodded. Sigart had taken Nora Papenberg’s mobile with him and left her own. And I know why.
‘Stefan?’ Florin didn’t let her go. ‘Beatrice wants her phone – could you bring it to her, please?’ She felt him stroke her hair gently, and closed her eyes. Maybe she would sleep after all, just for a moment.
‘What did you win?’
‘Hmm?’
‘You just said you’d won.’
‘Oh. Something… like a bet.’
Florin didn’t probe further. Every time Bea shuddered, he held her closer, as if he wanted to absorb the trembling with his own body. Now and then, a drop of water fell from his hair onto Beatrice’s cheek, running down it like a tear.
Then Stefan came with the phone. He squatted down next to them. ‘The ambulance will be here in a moment. I just called to check.’ He smiled shyly at Bea. ‘Are you feeling better?’
‘Yes.’
‘Glad to hear it. We were so shocked before when we found you in the well. Didn’t you hear us shouting for you?’ He didn’t wait for an answer. ‘Florin climbed down straight away, and he would probably have brought you up even without a rope if he had to.’ Now his smile wasn’t so shy any more.
‘Thank you, Stefan. Could you give Bea her phone now, please?’
She tried to sit up straight, but even a hint of a movement hurt; every muscle in her body felt sore. Florin supported her as she reached for the phone, but her fingers were too clammy and stiff to be able to hold it. It fell next to her in the grass. She clasped her whole hand around it, but it was like trying to handle an instrument she had no experience with whatsoever. The mobile slipped out of her fingers again. ‘Did you put the battery back in?’
‘No, we found it like that,’ said Stefan. Florin released one of his arms from her and reached for the phone.
Then it had been Sigart. In case the police turned up. And they had.
‘Do it for me,’ she asked Florin, once Stefan had gone back to the squad car on the street with his walkie-talkie. ‘The pin is three seven nine nine.’
That familiar beeping sound as he pressed the buttons. The melody with which the device signalled it was ready for action.
But nothing else.
‘No new messages?’ she asked, to make sure.
‘No. Lie back down, okay?’ He pulled the blanket right up to her neck. ‘Your circulation isn’t stable again yet. Do you think you could manage to eat something? Bechner has some chocolate in his bag, and the emergency doctor said on the phone that the combination of sugar and fat helps to warm the body up.’
Shivers and laughter shook her body simultaneously. ‘If I pinch Bechner’s chocolate he’ll like me even less than he already does.’
Florin pressed her against him, but differently this time, as if he wanted to share more than just body heat. ‘I think that’s a risk you should take.’
‘Okay,’ she murmured. There was a small, curved scar on Florin’s chest, just below his collar bone. She wanted to reach out and stroke it, but she couldn’t move her fingers. ‘Damn.’
‘Hmm? What did you say?’
Had she spoken out loud? ‘Nothing. Just that I’m tired—’
All of a sudden, Beatrice’s mobile beeped, and she jumped as if she had been electrocuted. A new message. No question as to who it was from. She was suddenly overcome by the searing fear that Sigart hadn’t kept to their agreement. What if he was sending photos of Mooserhof in flames? Why hadn’t she got a hold of her wits quicker? A squad car could already have been on its way to make sure everything was okay with her family. To make sure they were all alive.
‘Bea? Are you feeling worse?’
‘No… I – open it, Florin.’ She closed her eyes tightly, pressing her eyelids together. ‘Is it a photo?’
For a second he didn’t answer, and she felt as though something was about to tear apart inside her.
‘No,’ he said eventually. ‘But I don’t understand all of it.’
‘Show me.’
Florin held the mobile in front of her face. At first, the words blurred before her eyes, but then the letters became clear and sharp.
Thanks for the hunt, Beatrice.
JAFT.
N47º 28.239 E013º 10.521
She should have been relieved, but the only relief she felt was for her children. He wouldn’t do anything to them now. Or anyone. It was over. She said the word silently to herself again and again, but it didn’t take away the emptiness that was spreading out inside her.
‘He’s sent us new coordinates.’ Florin seemed to be hardly able to believe it. ‘Hasn’t he realised that we’ve initiated a major manhunt for him and that we won’t play his games any more?’
‘Yes. He has. No doubt about that.’ She would have to explain to Florin exactly what Sigart had been thanking them for each time. Just Florin. But not today.
‘JAFT. What does that mean?’
Beatrice remembered that particular abbreviation; it was one that had amused her. One that was easy to remember. ‘Just another fucking tree,’ she murmured as the ambulance pulled up on the road above. ‘It’s a tree cache with rope technique.’
Florin couldn’t be talked out of going in the ambulance with Beatrice. The call came while they were still en route to the hospital. Using the coordinates in the text message, Stefan had found Sigart. Hanging from a tree.
So quick. He must have prepared it all in advance – after all, it was easier to tie a noose with ten fingers than with seven.
The doctor checked the drip administering Beatrice with warm saline solution. She closed her eyes. A loser, with scars inside and out. Had he had a chance to win something after all, in the end?
A bet, perhaps. Or a departure on his own terms. The aeroplane circled around Beatrice’s bed, carrying out daring manoeuvres and making worrying noises.
‘I’m a Boeing 767, and I’m just about to land in Africa,’ crowed the plane.
‘Be quiet! Mama needs to rest.’ Mina was sitting next to Beatrice, holding her hand carefully, as if she was made of spun sugar. ‘He’s always so loud. Watch out, he’ll knock the drip over in a minute.’
Jakob really was dangerously close to the drip stand, sweeping the newspapers off the side table with his emergency turn.
‘Jakob! Pick those up at once!’ Mina’s usual commanding tone, but by her standards it was almost loving.
‘Whoooosh! I’m a deep-sea digger, and I’m pulling the sunken ship up-up-uuuup!’ The pile of papers landed back on the table with a loud clap.
In two days, Beatrice would be able to go home. She longed so much for her release that it almost hurt.
‘Shall we go for a special meal when I get out? What do you guys think? Or should I cook?’
‘No, you’re not so good at cooking,’ said Jakob, planting a wet kiss on her forehead. ‘I want to go to McDonald’s.’
‘And you?’ Beatrice stroked the back of Mina’s hand.