Wegener ordered Georg to wait outside in the car, with the engine running. Georg nodded and left. The squeak of the door hinges set Wegener’s teeth on edge.
With an angry gesture, he swept the map off the table. The hollow-tipped bullet bounced off the wall, and the Benzedrine capsules were scattered across the floor.
Wegener put his hands over his ears. The wind no longer sang of revenge and reprisals. Now it was telling a different story, a story of scorched earth. He could not bear it.
He knew how certain things went. He could imagine them. Someone approaches you and offers to buy you a beer. He asks you how things are going. Then he whispers a piece of advice in your ear. Ulysses never made it back to Ithaca, he says. The Cyclops feasted on his flesh. Did you know that? The rest is nothing but lies.
Then he smiles, and you know what he means. You realise he’s giving you an opportunity.
So you quickly nod, quit your stool and go home to pack. The man who offered you a drink is the Cyclops. You owe it to fate that you’re alive. And you can’t spit in the face of fate.
“Fuck Wegener, and fuck his wife.”
Run while there’s still time.
Wegener pressed his fists to his ears.
He could not stop thinking about it.
His men. The seven men he had chosen for their ruthlessness and determination. All it had taken was a murmur from the Consortium and they’d bolted, leaving him alone and defenceless.
What did it mean? He knew perfectly well, but couldn’t admit it to himself.
And he could not stop imagining it.
A persuasive voice on the telephone. Siegfried never pierced the Dragon’s chest with a spear. The Dragon is too powerful. Do you want to end up like him? You’re an intelligent person. You have a family. You have friends. Do you really want to lose everything? And for what? For someone like Wegener? Don’t you know Wegener’s finished?
So when you put the receiver down, you feel that life is wonderful, you feel how sweet the air coming into your lungs tastes. You feel the desire to make love to your wife, to hug your children, to joke with your old friends. And you don’t give a fuck about Wegener. It’s his life. His revenge, his downfall. Why stand up to the Dragon?
Scorched earth. That was what the Consortium had done. The weapons, the petrol, the drugs: all in vain. There would be no bursting in. No hotel on fire. No slaughter.
Herr Wegener swallowed a couple of times. Once more he recognised the taste of humiliation. He stood up, but his legs gave way and he was forced to sit down again.