After unloading the groceries into the kitchen, he went to the living room and found Ida fully clothed and seated upright with a hard stare on her face. She also had her leather jacket and shoes on. His pistol was resting on her lap. He knew where he had left it.
“After what happened I don’t feel safe anymore. So I checked your room. Can you tell me what this is?”
Frederich narrowed his eyes.
“You went through my drawers?” he asked.
“What is this?”
“It’s my pistol,” he said bluntly, remaining standing in place. “Is there a problem?”
“Frederich,” she said, frowning and rubbing her hand over her face. “I appreciate what you did. Really. And I feel like I should trust you. But I’m terrified right now. When I found the gun I had a panic attack. I was going to run away from here, but I’m scared to go back to my place. I don’t know what’s waiting for me there. I just… I don’t know,” she said, throwing up her hands. “I just need some reassurance.”
“Ok. How can I reassure you?”
“Just… answer some questions. And please tell me the truth.”
“Ok,” he said, slowly approaching.
“No, stay there,” she said, gripping the gun. The safety was still on.
“Ok,” he replied, reaching his arms out with palms facing forward. “What would you like to know?”
“Did you know Elias? Are you part of some mafia group?”
“No. I didn’t know him. And I’m not part of any criminal groups.”
“So how did you get there in the middle of a storm? Nobody was walking outside in that weather. Only you happened to be there.”
“I’ve been asking myself the same question,” Frederich admitted. “One minute I was having a coffee, and the next I was walking home in the middle of a flood. Then I heard you scream. I’ve always had good senses.”
“That doesn’t explain the gun and how you could beat Elias. He was strong, and everyone was afraid of him. Do you work for the government? Are you with the military?”
“No, and no,” he said, crossing his arms.
“Then what? You don’t look like the kind of guy who would have a gun and be able to kill people.”
Frederich took a deep breath. On the one hand, he understood her concern. She had been traumatised, and she had seen him kill a man. He would be just as untrusting in her position. Also, people always assumed he was a student or an artist. To understand him, a person would need to know his unusual history. He was still reluctant to tell her anything. He never spoke about his past to anybody. He considered his next step while she stared at him expectantly.
“I’m not part of any groups,” he found himself saying. “I just had a strange upbringing.”
“What does that mean?”
His palms grew sweaty. He rubbed them on his pants and sat down on the rug to get comfortable.
“I was adopted when I was seven. The man who adopted me, Kraas, was with the Soviet Army before he retired at the end of the Cold War. He was also with the Spetsnaz, which is kind of like a Russian Special Forces. I grew up in a village called Sassväku, near Tartu. It was just the two of us. When I got a bit older, he took me out with him hiking and hunting in the forest. Over time, I don’t know, it just happened. He started training me. I noticed the guns he had around the house. I started asking him questions about his life. Imagine it for a second, an orphan and an elite soldier. How else were we supposed to bond? I learnt all kinds of things from him: hand-to-hand combat, firearms, survival tactics, espionage, military strategy, political theory. We spent hours in the forest rehearsing battle scenarios. I was an angry kid, and Kraas helped me channel my anger the only way he knew. I followed in his footsteps and he made me into a soldier.”
The room fell silent and Ida remained perfectly still.
“You think I’m an idiot,” she said.
“It’s the truth.”
She stood up.
“Look, I don’t know what to believe, but I’m going crazy here. I’m going into the yard to get some fresh air.”
She shoved the pistol into her jacket pocket as she stood up and marched past Frederich.
“Wait..” said Frederich, reaching his hand out impotently.
Ida quickly stomped her way through the hallway. The door opened abruptly then slammed shut. Frederich frowned and scratched his head. His burning red face reminded him why he kept his past to himself. The gun. He was about to chase after her but was held back by his embarrassment. His face began burning again. He reassured himself that the safety was still on. He looked out of the window and followed her walk from the door to the bench at the back of the yard. He continued watching her, wondering how he could have told that story differently. Elias then popped into his mind and he took hold of his laptop computer. He looked out of the window one more time at the brooding Ida then settled on the sofa and opened the Berliner Morgenpost website.
His eyes widened and he leaned forward. Under ‘Breaking News’ was a large headshot of the bearded man Elias. Frederich recognised the fierce stare. Laid over the picture were the words ‘POSSIBLE MOB HIT IN CHARLOTTENBURG’. He clicked on the picture immediately then began scanning the article. Elias’ last name was ‘Khartoum.’ It rang no bells.
The article explained how an unsuspecting driver of an SUV had notified the police after running right over Khartoum’s
