Blum does all the talking. If Benjamin Ludwig says one word, one of his children will die. He knows Blum is serious. Reza shot at the tree which Ludwig was standing next to, 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 good-bye 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 good-bye, and come back out. Then get into your fucking 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 backseat. 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 that 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 backseat. Ludwig has done as she told him. He emerged from the house after four minutes, his wife was standing in the doorway waving good-bye. 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 materialized. 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, plastic wrap, and sticky tape. They stop in the parking lot 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 back. 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 the parking lot of some shopping mall in Munich. She would like to hurt him, tell him she loved the man he ran over 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 yard. A family that isn’t a family anymore. 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 trunk. 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 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 driveway 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 backyard. 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 of 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 that 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 a 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 plastic wrap 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 the other, 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 rubbernecker at an accident, eager to satisfy her curiosity. The boathouse contains a row boat, a small launch with an electric motor, and Benjamin Ludwig, who is screaming. He has come round and can feel the sticky tape, realizes 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 onstage 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 which 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 realizing a dream. Five lucky men.
• • •
Blum’s desire to pull the trigger grows with every word he speaks. Click. A gunshot, then nothing. But Blum wants more. She wants to know where the boy is and whether he is still alive. What they have done with him. I don’t know. I really don’t know. The cellar has been cleared, the furniture and cages have been thrown away. It’s all gone, the place is empty. There’s nothing left. I don’t know where the boy is. I don’t know. You must believe me. He disappeared into thin air. So nothing remains in Kitzbühel, nothing to prove the nightmare was real apart from photographs and videos. And the words of Benjamin Ludwig. It is a sad truth, and it confirms what she already knows. That he hunted them, shot darts at them, always singing that song. Because those men crossed a line and couldn’t go back, so they carried on. They made the madness part of their lives and justified it to themselves. We always fed them well. It was good for them to be anesthetized. That way it didn’t hurt. They were no better off where they came from. We looked after them well. They had everything they needed. They were well off with us.
• • •
Blum wants to kick him as hard as she can, until he shuts up. She wants to make him feel the horror, the unimaginable cruelty of every encounter. Blum wants him to say that he is sorry, that he knows he is a monster. She wants to punish him and eliminate him, and then she wants more. She wants the answer to her final question, the conclusion of the confession, though there is no forgiveness to be had. Who did it? Was it him? Did he drive the car? Was he at the wheel of the Rover? Or was it one of the others?
• • •
“You killed my husband.”
“I did what?”
“You know exactly who I am. Admit it or you’re dead.”
“Yes. I know who you are.”
“It was your car.”
“But I didn’t kill your husband.”
“Don’t lie to me.”
“I’m not.”
“It was your car.”
“But I wasn’t driving.”
“Then who was?”
“Not me.”
“Then who?”
“You’re not going to like this.”
“Either you tell me or you die.”
“He was driving.”
“The clown?”
“Yes, the clown.”
“Who is he and where can I find him? Open your fucking mouth and tell me the truth.”
“He’s to blame, not me. For the whole thing. He killed the girl. And your husband too. He said it had to be done. We tried to talk him out of it, believe me.”
“His name. I want his name.”
“He wanted me to do it, but I said I couldn’t kill your husband. He tried to insist. He said we’d all go to prison if he didn’t die.”
“Ten . . . nine . . .”
“It’s his fault, not mine.”
“His name.”
“I didn’t want anyone to die! I only let him use my car. I’m not responsible, I could never kill anyone.”
“Five . . . four . . .”
“You have no idea who you’re dealing with.”
“Three.”
“He’ll kill you too.”
“Two.”
“He won’t hesitate for a moment.”
“One.”
“His name is Massimo. And he’s a police—”
• • •
Blum fires the gun. Her finger pulls the trigger and now his head is lolling to the side. His name is Massimo. A few seconds ago, he was breathing, and now he is dead. But Blum can still hear him. His name is Massimo. The name eats a hole in her, fast and deep, it hollows her out, takes away all she still has. His name is Massimo. Blum sits down. She can’t think; she feels sick. To think he said that name, Massimo, the last name she was expecting. Sitting on the floor, leaning back against the wooden wall, she hears it again. It echoes around her head, even though she has pressed Stop. His name is Massimo. Blum doesn’t move. She can’t do anything but sit there, looking at Ludwig’s corpse. She cannot grasp what he said. Reza is slowly kneeling down in front of her. He carefully takes her face in his hands. We can get through this, he says, his fingers on her cheeks. They keep her from falling.
• • •
Ludwig said He’ll kill you too. Reza kisses her on the forehead and stands up. Stay where you are. Then he sets to work on Ludwig the way they have planned it. Calmly, Reza dissects him and packages him up. All is quiet in the boathouse as the blood runs into the lake. Blum is lost for words, she can’t help Reza, she can’t move, because she can feel Massimo, deep inside her, his hands on her body, his tongue. Massimo who rooted around inside her, lied to her, stole into her. His name is Massimo. Her husband’s best friend was one of those five men. The clown was the worst of them all, Dunya had said. Blum had slept with him. Blum can’t move.
• • •
Reza saws off Ludwig’s leg. He is using a handsaw and an ax. It is heavy work; there is no current here, so he cannot use power tools. Reza is sweating. But he doesn’t mind that Blum can’t help him. I can manage, he says. The leg is wrapped tight with plastic wrap, then sticky tape, then it goes into a carton, then more tape. Arms, torso, head, Reza packages them all up. Then he will clean up and carry Ludwig to the car; they will leave the boathouse exactly as they found it. There will be nothing to show that a man died here. The blood is in the lake, there’s only a broken padlock that will be blamed on local youths. No one will suspect a thing. Ludwig is ready to be dispatched. The packages are addressed to the Funerary Institute; Reza has chosen a haulage firm close to the airport. They will pass it before leaving Ludwig’s car in the underground garage at the airport; they will wear gloves and leave no prints. Then they will get straight back on the motorcycle and return to Innsbruck. Tomorrow, Ludwig will arrive in the post. They will store him in the cool room, divide him between caskets, and before Massimo’s eyes, Ludwig will disappear without a trace.
• • •
Does he know it’s Blum? He must have seen Dunya in her house, he knows that she hasn’t let up in her investigations. Does he think she’s capable of it? She can’t say. Was the plainclothes officer in the car outside her house there to follow her, not protect her? Massimo has been checking up on her, for the last few hours her phone hasn’t stopped ringing. He spoke into her voice mail in tones of concern. Mark’s murderer sounded so friendly. But he has her in his sights.
• • •
Back on the highway, Reza rides the bike and Blum sits behind him. She puts her arms around his waist, her head rests on his back, under her helmet tears fall. She feels empty, she wants to get home and wash away the thought of Massimo. She can’t believe how simple it was, how stupid, how blind she had been. Everything is falling into place. Dunya disappeared after Blum slept with him. He must have taken another look in the children’s room; he must have seen her in Nela’s bed, the woman he had defiled for years. Dunya could have brought the whole house of cards toppling down, just like Mark could. So Massimo executed her too. He held her head underwater, and then he kissed Blum.