And now it was going to be driven out. That was bound to be an unpleasant experience. Much worse than the caning to drive out sin – and although she had been here for two weeks now, she still hadn’t grown accustomed to that. After every session she needed to cry a bit in private, but she hadn’t noticed any of the other girls needing to do that.
And now the need to cry had struck her again. Without any warning, she felt a burning sensation in her throat and then the tears started to flow and she had to sit down by the side of the road. Just for a few moments to let it run its course and go away. It was silly, wandering around in the middle of the road and sobbing. Even if it couldn’t have been later than six or half past – and even though there was virtually no risk of meeting another soul – it was silly.
She found a handkerchief in her rucksack and blew her nose. Remained sitting there for a few minutes, to be on the safe side, and it was just as she was about to stand up and continue on her way that she heard a twig snap close by, and she quickly realized that she was by no means as alone as she had imagined.
17-18 JULY
2
‘And who’s saying that?’ wondered Jung as he opened a can of Coca-Cola. ‘That he’s intending to pack it in, I mean?’
Ewa Moreno shrugged.
‘I don’t know who started it,’ she said. ‘But Rooth and Krause were talking about it in the canteen yesterday… I’m not surprised, if it’s true.’
‘By what?’ asked Jung. ‘What doesn’t surprise you?’ He took a few large swigs and tried not to belch.
‘That he’s had enough, of course. He must have been at it for thirty-five years, at least. How long are you intending to keep going for?’
Jung considered the question while discreetly breathing out some carbon dioxide fumes through his nose.
‘There’s always a chance of getting shot before your time’s up, that’s for sure,’ he said. ‘If you’re lucky. No, I try to keep fit and healthy by not thinking about such matters. Have some of this.’
He handed over the can and Moreno emptied it in one go.
‘It’s incredibly hot,’ she said. ‘I must have drunk three litres since this morning. You could always ask Munster – if anybody knows, he will.’
Jung nodded.
‘How old is he?’
‘Who? Munster?’
‘The chief inspector, of course. He can’t be sixty yet, surely?’
‘No idea,’ said Moreno. ‘How much longer are we going to have to hang around here? Nothing’s happening. Apart from the fact that my brain’s starting to boil.’
Jung checked his watch.
‘Another hour, according to our instructions.’
‘Drive round one more time,’ said Moreno. ‘At least that’ll start a bit of air flowing. There’s not much point in sitting here and getting sunstroke. Or what do you say, Inspector?’
‘One has to be prepared to die while doing one’s duty,’ said Jung, starting the car. ‘That’s what it says in the rule book. I think it would be a damned shame if he were to leave… He can be a pain at times, but so what? Where do you want me to drive to?’
‘To the snackbar, so we can buy some more Coke,’ said Moreno.
‘Your word is my command,’ said Jung. ‘But I think we should get something non-fizzy this time. Look at that, for Christ’s sake! Mind you, it’s been in full sunlight…’
He pointed at the gigantic thermometer on the gable end of the swimming baths.
‘Thirty-seven degrees,’ said Moreno.
‘Exactly! Body temperature, more or less.’
‘I’m thirsty,’ said Moreno.
Chief Inspector Van Veeteren clambered into his car and closed his eyes.
‘That woman!’ he muttered. ‘I’ve given that woman my life.’
He groaned. The car had been parked in the square for over an hour in roasting hot sunshine, and when he touched the steering wheel he smelt a whiff of burned flesh. Gehenna, he thought. That’s where we all end up.
Sweat was pouring off him. Down his face, the back of his neck, under his arms. He wound down the windows and carefully wiped his brow with a less than immaculate handkerchief.
He contemplated the soaking wet rag. There were traces of cold sweat there as well.
‘Twenty-five years of my life!’ he said to himself, correcting his earlier claim. Started the car and swung out from his parking space. ‘A quarter of a century!’
And now she had tried to steal two more weeks. He began to recall the conversation in detail.
A holiday cottage out at Maalvoort. Well, that’s great… Plenty of space. Four rooms plus kitchen. Dunes and beach and the sea
… Renate and him. Jess and the twins…
He wondered how carefully she had planned it all. They had been talking for quite some time; everything had been going fine, from his point of view, it seemed – and then the questions and the proposal had come out of the blue… He ought to have known. For Christ’s sake, he ought to have known by now! He would also be on holiday in August, wouldn’t he? Just when Jess would be coming home at last for a few weeks. The grandchildren and Grandma and Grandad all together, one big family, what good fortune…! (Huh, misfortune more like! Very unfortunate, and he couldn’t help smiling at the unfortunate fortune, despite everything.) The cottage was on the big side; she’d been late in making a booking and most places were already taken. If he wanted to have time to himself, that wouldn’t be a problem, there was plenty of room for him to be alone. Both indoors and outdoors…
Oh yes, this had been planned all right. It was a trap, he thought. A typical carefully laid trap by his ex-wife, a spider luring the unwary into her web. Hell and damnation!
He switched on the stereo, then switched it off again.
Jess and the kids…
‘I’m afraid not,’ he’d said.
And Erich had promised to come as well, for a few days at least.
‘I’m afraid not, my dear,’ he’d said. ‘You’re too late. I’m already booked up.’
‘Booked up?’ Her eyebrows had been raised in chastened despair. ‘You, booked up already?’
‘Crete!’ He blurted out the first place that came into his head. ‘Two weeks, from the first onwards.’
She didn’t believe him. He could see that right away; one eyebrow sunk back to scratch position, but the other remained dangling from her forehead like a silent reprimand.
‘Crete,’ he said again, quite unnecessarily. ‘Rethymnon, but I’m thinking of going down to the south coast as well… and, well-’
‘Are you going on your own?’
‘On my own? Dammit all, of course I’m going on my own! How the hell could you think otherwise?’
He bumped against the kerb of a traffic island with his left front wheel, and cursed to himself.
A quarter of a century. Then five years of freedom, but still she was there, setting her traps. What was she really after? He shuddered, despite the summer heat. Wiped the back of his neck with the handkerchief as well. Turned into Rejmer Plejn and was fortunate enough to find an empty parking space under one of the elms.
Crete? he thought as he got out of the car. Why not?
Yes indeed, why not? If you could redeem your sins by doing penance, it should be child’s play to conjure up a retroactive truth from a white lie.
I’m on good form linguistically today, he thought. Unfortunate fortune! Retroactive truth!… I ought to start writing my memoirs PDQ.
He crossed over the square. Inserted a toothpick into his mouth and marched into the travel agent’s on the corner.
The woman standing at the counter had her back turned towards him, and it was a few seconds before he realized who she was. Her chestnut-brown hair had become slightly more chestnutty since he’d seen her last, and her voice more resonant.
I should damned well think so.