have bad wiring. Do you have any idea what maintenance costs are for an old building like that?”
A few of the gamblers let out a loud communal groan, not out of sympathy with Knoll, though, but because one of the races had produced an unpopular result.
“And when she’s not capable of looking after her own child, that gets pinned on me, too. Or the driver is guilty.” Knoll signaled to the girl behind the counter that he’d like another cup of tea, since he’d gulped the first one down when it was still scalding hot. “What’re you going to do now that you’re out of a job and an apartment?”
Didn’t miss a beat. And Brenner might have fallen for Knoll’s concerned tone. Because the pro-life boss had years of practice, of course, coaxing a vulnerable person over to his side. But Brenner kept his cool and answered absolutely correctly, “At the moment, I’m not worried in the least.”
“I’ve been searching for a bodyguard for the longest time.”
“Aha.”
“You could do the same job for me that you did for Kressdorf. As of immediately.”
Brenner was speechless for a moment. He couldn’t believe how shamelessly Knoll was already scheming about how next to provoke the Frau Doctor.
“You wouldn’t have to run around with a walkie-talkie and a revolver. It’d be enough for me if you worked as my driver.”
Fortunately, at that moment Knoll’s cell phone rang. Or unfortunately, I don’t know which I should say. You never know when all is said and done: Was it more fortunate or was it more unfortunate? Will you regret it or not? Not to mention being born. A person’s got to decide even the tiniest little thing in total blindness. The good lord’s a bit of a sadist about it, because you never know: this or that, what’s better for me and all involved when all is said and done? Brenner’s the perfect example right now: would everything have turned out even worse if Knoll’s cell phone hadn’t rung and Brenner had given him the answer that was perched on the tip of his tongue, and what kind of answer would Knoll have given him in return? We can’t know all that, or is it unfortunate that the phone call spared Brenner from answering, summa summarum, resulting in fewer deaths?
Now, surely you know the interesting phenomenon of cell phone contagion. I won’t go so far as to say the most serious disease worldwide, but among the front-runners in any case. All it takes is the ring of one cell phone for everyone else to check whether they might have at least gotten a new message. That’s exactly how it went for Brenner now. He played nervously with his phone as if he were silencing a call, while he listened to Knoll explain and calm down his callers, they shouldn’t let the reports about the kidnapping dissuade them, because clear as day, the clinic itself is behind the kidnapping, and so the week’s motto: rosary now more than ever.
After ten minutes of listening to Knoll talk on the phone, it got unbearable for him, and so he called someone, too. Believe it or not, Bank Director Reinhard. Without the job offer from Knoll, which Brenner had never taken seriously, he probably wouldn’t have come up with the idea. Sure, Reinhard had always been friendly to Brenner, never arrogant, where you might think he’s looking down at you. Once in Kitzbuhel they chatted about hunting, and another time even about nature. Trees, birds, all of it. And one thing you can’t forget: when Reinhard’s chauffeur wasn’t around, Kressdorf sometimes loaned Brenner out to him. Maybe that’s a way of demonstrating friendship among the better people, just like how the little people might lend and borrow tools among themselves, salt, milk, an egg, and the middle people, maybe the car or the spouse, so among the better-off you’d say, you know what, take my driver, I don’t need him just now, he’ll get you out to Klosterneuburg pronto.
But don’t go thinking it bothered Brenner. Because Reinhard-always a good tipper, don’t even ask. Brenner hadn’t told the bank director that he had no interest in hunting, of course, and now he was glad about that. Because otherwise, Reinhard certainly never would’ve said he was such a good driver that in case he ever stopped working for Kressdorf for some reason, he could be in touch anytime.
Brenner hadn’t taken it seriously at the time, because first of all, he had no intention of swapping Helena for Reinhard anyway, and second of all, life experience told him that a guy like Bank Director Reinhard enjoys appearing as his Sunday best, but when it comes down to it, there’s a secretary saying, we’ll call you.
What can I say, that’s exactly how it was. With Reinhard’s supposedly private number, Brenner advanced only as far as the secretary, and naturally, the Herr Director wasn’t in, and in case the Herr Director should ever be truly in need of a driver, we’ll call you. Brenner didn’t need to go back out into the rain for this short conversation, but he didn’t exactly want to make the call with Knoll on the phone next to him, and although it initially struck him as a good phone booth there beneath the covered entrance, the loud ventilation ended up sending him outside.
I have to be completely honest: no one who saw Brenner standing there in the rain would have guessed his detective past. Or predicted how in the coming weeks he would shake up the city. And you see, it’s for these things exactly that I admire Brenner. Because he didn’t give up after the faux-friendly “We’ll call you.” Instead he called up the Hotel Imperial and asked for Bank Director Reinhard.
You should know: once while they were waiting in Kitzbuhel, Reinhard’s driver had told Brenner that Reinhard kept a permanent suite at the Imperial where he liked to go on his lunch hour to stretch out a bit. Because, stressful sixteen-hour days, and how do you think he always manages to still make the drive to Klosterneuburg when he’s tired from business lunches, or just wants to relax a little now and then? That’s what he had the hotel suite for. But Reinhard never said “hotel room” or “suite,” instead, listen closely: “refuge.” And he always said that Churchill always said that “with a nap midday I get two days in one.”
On this day, though, Director Reinhard must not have had time for two days, because Brenner didn’t get hold of him at his refuge, either, and so he went back inside the betting parlor.
“Phone calls constantly!” Knoll said apologetically. Because he must not have noticed that in the meantime Brenner had made a phone call, too. “And? Have you thought it over?”
“What?”
“Are you going to work for me?”
“That would look great to the Frau Doctor,” Brenner said helplessly, and gestured to the waitress for the bill.
“Enough already!” Knoll yelled, a bit frazzled, and turned his cell phone off in mid-ring. “You’ll have to excuse me,” he sighed, “but you can’t imagine what kind of an uproar my people are in. They’re being called kidnappers and murderers in broad daylight.”
“At least they’re getting a taste of their own medicine.”
Brenner simply couldn’t resist that one. But Knoll dismissed it as if it were nothing. “You’re an ex-cop, you know the first thing that gets asked after a crime: who’s profiting from it?”
“I’m wondering how you know that I used to be a cop.”
Because, so it goes. Brenner was fairly certain at first that Knoll wasn’t behind the kidnapping. And this attempt to breed suspicion made Brenner mistrustful all over again.
Knoll just looked at him sympathetically, though. “You wonder why I know something about your past, but you’re confident that I would go and kidnap a child?”
“You threatened the Frau Doctor that you’d take her child away.”
Knoll hesitated a moment, and then his seductive smile climbed from deep within him and stopped just before reaching his lips. “A threat made without any witnesses can be easily refuted. But I want to be frank with you. I think you’re a good person. Truly, it happened in a moment of anger. I said something to Frau Doctor Kressdorf that one shouldn’t say. But I said it differently. I didn’t say anything about myself. I asked her whether she wasn’t afraid that the good lord, from whom she’d taken so many children, might take her child away, too, some day.”
“It’s the same thing,” Brenner protested.
At that moment, several of the screens hopped from snooker to dog racing.
“Good lord!” Knoll said once more. “Not to me. First of all, I’m no kidnapper, and second, I’m not stupid.”
“And the good lord is stupid, or what?”
When they were suspended in slow motion, you could see how the muscular bodies of the dogs deformed out of sheer centrifugal force. Their flews were blown straight back and almost didn’t catch up with their heads, their saliva flew with the bets into the sand, and Brenner wished that time would stand still in this lovely twilight created by the rainy day and the flat screens, because he had the feeling that there was no stopping now, and that everything had already been decided long before the first dog crossed the finish line.
“Listen to me: this kidnapping doesn’t benefit me in any way.”
