“It’s nice here,” she said. “You can feel how much care someone has given this garden. Even the grass.”
Frederich lifted his eyebrows and nodded.
“My mother says gardening feeds the soul,” continued Ida. “It’s a way to express love. Do you come out here much?”
“Not really,” admitted Frederich. “Only when I need to throw away the rubbish.”
“Mmm,” she replied.
Frederich paid closer attention to their surroundings. The drizzle was almost suspended in the air as it fell. The yellow flowers were aligned neatly in rows, and the soil had been weeded. The grass was plush and freshly cut and trimmed around the edges. Everything about the area was orderly except for the vine plant which covered the opening that separated the yard into two sections. It was still flowering.
“It is nice,” he said.
Ida turned and smiled again.
“Are you ok?” he asked. He wondered how she would react to the Weisman article.
“A bit better. I was thinking of a trip I took with my parents when I was five. We drove down Costa de Oro, which is a long stretch of beach along the east coast of Uruguay. That was the happiest time of my life. I loved it. Just imagining it again makes me feel happy. I think I hold onto it because that was the last trip my family took together. My father left us one year later.”
“I’m sorry,” said Frederich.
“So am I,” she replied. “That story you told makes me think that maybe you don’t have memories like that.”
“No, I don’t think so. I don’t remember anything before I was seven.”
“Nothing at all?” she asked.
He shook his head and bit his lip. She maintained her gaze on him then looked back at the flower bed. He wondered when to bring up Elias Khartoum.
“I wonder if they found Elias’ body,” she said as though by telepathy.
When he failed to reply, she turned again and looked at him. He swallowed hard.
“What?” she asked.
“I need to show you something,” he said.
Ida was glassy-eyed, and her mouth was wide open. Frederich had just shared Kraas’ story with her, and she had read Weisman’s exposé on Elias Khartoum.
“What is all that supposed to mean?” she asked.
“It means you were right. Whatever Elias is connected to, it’s big.”
Her hands began shaking. Her eyes darted rapidly from side to side, and her lips were quivering. When she looked like she was going to lose her footing, Frederich lunged forward to support her.
“No, no, I can…” she said, holding her arms out at full length. Before she could finish her sentence, she took a large inhale and stormed into the bedroom, closing the door behind her.
Frederich stood in place, unsure how to respond. For the second time, he felt powerless to help her. He went over to the door and listened in but heard nothing. He went to open it then stopped himself and returned to the living room.
Hours passed. He thought again about going to her, but each time a voice stopped him. It told him that she should face it alone. That was how he would handle it. He spent the time sprawled on the rug lost in thought. The void was there. Then he noticed that for a while he had forgotten about it. Did Ida have something to do with that? Who knew. It had been a complicated twenty-four hours.
He continued shuffling on the rug, unable to find a comfortable position. He was agitated, and she definitely had something to do with that. Why should he care? he thought. He barely knew the girl. She was in danger, and he had stepped in. Job done. End of story. What else was he expected to do? She had complicated his life, rudely walked out on him during his story and snooped around in his room. He owed her nothing. He thought about dropping her off at the police station and then leaving Berlin. That would be the easiest thing to do. She might have a chance in some witness protection program. He could take care of himself.
He sighed slowly. There was still the question of this League Of Reckoning. He was unsure how long its reach was, but something told him Ida would not be safe with the authorities. That meant he had to move forward with the plan. They had to move forward. Together. Something was holding Ida back, and it annoyed him most how blind she was to it. Finally, he had enough. He huffed and went to the bedroom door and knocked twice before going in.
The room was dim and still. Ida was hunched over beside the bed, her arms wrapped around her legs. She was frowning and gazing at the floor. He crouched down in front of her.
“I was out there thinking for a long time how I could help you with this,” he said. “How to comfort you or something. Now I realise there’s no point.”
Ida suddenly shook to life and looked up, her eyes narrowed.
“First, I’m not good at that stuff,” he said. “I was always expected to handle my fear alone. Comfort wasn’t Kraas’ thing. Plus, I’m afraid right now, and I don’t have a clue how to make it go away. But that’s not the reason.”
“What then?” she asked.
“You don’t need it. If you were going to break, you would have already. That didn’t happen, and I have a feeling it won’t.”
“And how do you know that?” she said, scowling and raising her voice.
He looked sternly at her and shrugged.
“I know what I see. I know what I saw out there when we spoke on the bench. You don’t need it,” he repeated, then left the room and shut the door behind him.
For a long time the apartment remained quiet. It turned dark outside and he switched on a lamp, then returned to his position on the rug and fell
