‘Just a sec, I’m coming, I’m coming,’ Franz yelled at the stranger who already had his phone to his ear.
The newcomer stood at the exit where the cows used to be driven from trucks and down the ramp into the stalls. Or from them, when the emaciated and by that point worthless milk cows, having been pumped dry, had to go to the slaughterhouse.
‘Sorry, my mistake, I didn’t hear you.’
Franz rushed over, having no idea what to tell the massive figure in the blue-grey uniform. His research had told him that the private security firm only came once on Tuesdays and never today. Something must have broken the routine. Shit.
‘What the hell you doin’ here?’ demanded the security guard.
He stood with his legs planted apart, which he had to do or he’d probably fall forwards on account of his well-rounded belly. He didn’t give a very athletic impression in general, what with those burst veins on his cheeks and all his panting and wheezing despite not having moved a centimetre more than necessary. In one hand he held a phone that looked like a business card in his big paw, while his other hand held a flashlight that reminded him of a truncheon and for good reason.
‘There a problem?’ Franz held a box cutter in his right hand, hidden in the long sleeve of his sweater, and his fingers grasped tighter around it the closer he got to the man.
‘You bet there’s a problem.’
The man from M&V Security pointed his switched-off flashlight at the broken padlock on the dairy floor. ‘You broke in here.’
‘No, no. The lock was already like that when we came in. I thought this was just some industrial ruin, didn’t belong to anyone.’
‘Right, sure. That’s why there’s only about thirty No Trespassing signs around here, you kook.’ The security guard tapped at his temple with the flashlight.
‘Listen, we don’t want any trouble.’
‘We?’
It was time to improvise. At least long enough to get closer, so that he could reach the guard’s throat with one swipe.
‘College buddies. We’re studying photography,’ Franz rambled on. ‘We’re using this morbid setting here for our thesis project.’
What a cliché. But it seemed to be working. Still. The more tourist types that poured in, the more people attempting to capture the ‘charm’ of the busted capital in photos. Franz certainly couldn’t be the first one the security guard had caught here.
‘Do you have permission?’ he demanded.
‘No, like I told you, I didn’t know we needed any.’ Franz took a step closer, extending the box cutter blade a little further.
‘But if you’d give us about five minutes, we’ll break it all down and…’
A muffled scream sounded from the rear stalls and made the security guard step back.
‘Thesis project?’ he said warily as more of the screams rang out through the open barn, not as loud now yet still clear.
Nele screamed: ‘Good God. Ohhhh…’
Shit. What now?
To Franz’s amazement, the fleshy security guard’s face contorted with a lusty grin. ‘I see what kind of film you’re making here.’
‘You do?’
‘There a part for me?’
‘No, uh, I’m afraid—’
‘Come on, buddy, at least gimme a look. I always wanted to be around for one of these.’
Franz wondered which of them was luckier – he or this super horny security guard. Maybe he didn’t need to use this box cutter on him after all.
‘Okay. Okay, fine. I’ll go have a chat with the others. But I need time. Give me five minutes?’
‘Ohhh, please, please, please, fuuuhhh!’
‘That girl, she hot?’
Fritz nodded emphatically. ‘Yes. Real hot. Totally. She’s gonna really dig you.’ You idiot.
‘Really?’
‘Yes, but I have to get her ready. That means changing the shot. We can’t just surprise her.’
‘Right, okay. Understood.’
No, you haven’t understood a thing, not since the blood started leaving your brain and dumping into your crotch.
‘What’s your name?’
‘Helmuth.’
Franz wondered how long he’d need to get Nele to his second hiding place.
‘So, Helmuth, I suggest you go get a little fresh air for now, and then, in about an hour—’
‘Oh, shit.’
‘What?’
The security guard glared at his phone. ‘Alarm at the old lake warehouses, break-in. At the very end of my route. Crap. How long you all still here?’
‘Two, three hours for sure.’
‘Okay, keep an eye out. I’ll be back later. I first need to go see what’s up.’
‘Great, okay. That works.’
Franz watched the security guard leave, waddling off to his car in no great hurry for a burglary, into a decrepit Golf with a suspension that creaked as Helmuth squeezed himself into it.
‘And you better not be playing with me,’ he shouted out the open window before steering around the taxi Franz had driven here, making a large squeaking arc towards the exit.
Fucking hell, what were the chances?
Franz turned back for the stall where Nele was still screaming her lungs out.
He checked his watch and on the way back considered whether he should first call his contact or just drive right over to the fallback location before that meathead came back again.
‘Fuuu…’ Nele screamed, strangely high-pitched. When he reached her stall she was pressing so hard that ruptured red veins appeared in her eyes that were too wide open, like someone with Graves’ disease.
She was squatting on the stretcher panting, on all fours like she’d switched to during the last contractions, apparently more able to endure the pain this way.
‘Fuuu… ckkk!!’ Nele spat out into the room. So loudly and clearly, and Franz now started shouting too. Because Nele was not squatting, screaming and pressing in reality.
It was only on the camera display.
From the recording.
She had disappeared.
Her stretcher was empty.
The only thing in the stall was the camera, which Nele must have rewound and switched to playback.