George takes four pills from the bottle Gabriella’s neighbour gave to Klara and puts them on a wooden cutting board in the kitchen.
‘Google suggests you do this,’ he says, starting to hack the pills up with a sharp Japanese knife. ‘And you know you can always count on the sociopaths, right?’
‘This is the craziest plan I’ve ever heard in my life,’ Klara says. ‘Wouldn’t it be better if I just ran away as fast as I could and jumped into the subway?’
‘That’s Plan B,’ George says. He stops hacking and turns to her. ‘Don’t you want to find out who’s following you?’
‘Yes,’ she says. ‘I just don’t see how this will help me answer that.’
George bends over the cutting board and chops the last of the pills into a fine powder that he gently brushes into a small plastic container.
‘Stop nagging and just trust me. We don’t have any time to lose if this is going to work. He’ll be done with his coffee soon.’
He throws on his coat and puts the bottle on the floor of the hall while he ties his shoes. ‘Give me three minutes,’ he says. ‘That’s all, Klara. There are small margins in this brilliant plan.’
Klara shakes her head sceptically. ‘You’ve fucking lost it.’
‘Come up with something better then,’ he says with an even stare.
‘I just did,’ she says. ‘Run down into the subway.’
George puts an arm on her shoulder. ‘What do we have to lose?’ he says. ‘If this works, we’ll find out more about these people. If it doesn’t work, we do your plan, okay?’
Klara sighs. ‘Just do it then.’
*
It’s a clear, cold morning as she steps out of George’s building exactly three minutes after he disappeared up the street, heading towards the intersection, past the BMW where her suspected pursuer sits.
She pulls her coat more tightly around her, forcing herself not to look at the BMW. But after she passes, she can’t help but glance back at the man sitting there. Just like George said: wide shoulders and short beard, the same style coat as the other men she’s seen following her. He’s still holding a coffee cup in his hand. That’s good, at least.
She’s about twenty metres past the car when she hears its door open and close. She resists the urge to turn around, but can feel her pulse start to quicken.
She starts to hurry, just as they agreed upon. Almost jogging now, which will force her pursuer to do the same.
She comes to the corner and turns to the right, catches sight of George straight ahead, even though he has the collar of his coat turned upwards and a dark stocking cap pulled low on his forehead. He’s leaning against the door of a closed restaurant and when he sees her, he starts walking in her direction at high speed. She nods quickly, and he nods back. Resolute and focused.
Then she stops at the entrance to the bakery, as they decided, and lights a cigarette. She glances back towards the corner.
She can’t believe her eyes. It happens just like George planned it. The man following her barrels around the corner, and George is standing there ready. He takes a step towards him, and they collide.
The man is much bigger than George, and George almost bounces off of him. But George grabs hold of his hand, grabs the cup and backs up.
‘Oh, pardon!’ she hears George shouting. ‘I didn’t mean to. I…’
‘What the hell!’ the man hisses. ‘Watch out!’
He catches sight of Klara and calms down, relieved he hasn’t lost her and obviously not wanting to expose himself.
‘Forgive me, forgive me,’ George repeats in French. He’s brushing the man’s jacket where the coffee spilled. ‘Let me compensate you, that’s the least I can do. Let me buy you a cup of coffee.’
‘It’s not necessary,’ the man mutters in heavily accented French. ‘Just leave me alone.’
‘Out of the question,’ George continues. ‘I insist.’
The man seems confused. He’s trying not to look over at Klara, still standing by the bakery, while also wrapping up the situation with George. The last thing he wants is to draw attention to himself. George apologizes again and then walks past Klara into the bakery without acknowledging her.
It takes no more than a minute for him to come out again with a cardboard cup of hot coffee in his hand. The man is standing where he left him.
‘I apologize again,’ George says, handing him the coffee. ‘I’m so clumsy.’
The man looks annoyed, but he takes the cup and shoos George away, who heads back towards his building further down the street.
Klara finishes her cigarette, pretending that she didn’t see what happened between the men. She stubs out her cigarette, goes into the bakery and buys a loaf of bread.
When she comes out again, she no longer sees the man.
*
‘He’s back in the car,’ is the first thing she hears when she enters George’s apartment. ‘With the coffee. I’m a fucking genius!’
She walks through the hall and into the living room without taking off her shoes or coat.
‘He’s drinking it!’ George says.
Klara reluctantly goes over to the window. She can see the BMW, see the man sitting behind the wheel again.
‘What if you got the dose wrong?’ she says. ‘What if you kill him?’
‘The glass is always half empty with you,’ George mutters. ‘You don’t die from a few roofies. He’ll just get a little fuzzy and disoriented, that’s all. Which means his friends will come and check on him. Focus on him drinking the coffee. This is a fucking triumph!’
*
George has completely abandoned the idea of going to work. They barely speak, just fiddle with their phones. Klara throws a glance over at him on a regular basis, and she can feel him doing the same. Last night and this morning linger in the room like a force field, but neither of them knows how to handle it.
After about forty-five minutes George turns his wrist and looks at his oversized watch. ‘Should have worked by now, I’d think,’ he says, standing up.
‘Okay,’ Klara says. ‘This is what we do: I head out, and if he catches on, I try to get rid of him in the subway or something. Then I meet Karl myself.’
George shakes his head.
‘Not a chance,’ he says. ‘I’m coming with you.’
‘I don’t want to have to think about you too, George. Stay here, I’ll call you afterwards.’
‘But what if something happens? You know, if something goes wrong?’
‘If something goes wrong?’ she says. ‘What would you do then? Grab another cup of coffee?’
She walks over to him and strokes his cheek. It’s the first time she’s touched him since they woke up in his bed this morning.
‘This is my problem, George,’ she says. ‘I want to take care of it myself. For Gabriella. Do you have a hat I can borrow? Anything that might change my appearance would be good.’
George roots around in a box in the hall and finds a light-grey hat in thin wool. He pushes it down over her ears.
‘At least be careful,’ he says. ‘Promise me.’
She nods. George’s blue eyes. She can’t look away from them. Slowly she rises up onto her tiptoes and kisses him on the mouth. ‘I promise,’ she says, disappearing through the door towards whoever is following her, towards whoever it is that got Gabriella arrested.