Frank Schätzing - Limit

‘Where is my father?’

Kenny took his time, a long time, before answering. Yoyo in turn said nothing, waiting frostily, so both of them remained silent, a mute test of strength.

‘I’ve given him the day off,’ he said at last. He crowned the remark with a smug, quiet chuckle.

‘That doesn’t answer my question.’

‘No one told you to ask questions.’

‘Is he well?’

‘Very well. He’s taking a rest.’

The way Kenny said ‘very well’ was designed to suggest the precise opposite. Yoyo clenched her fists.

‘Listen, you sick fuck. I want to talk to my father right away, you hear? After that you can make your demands, but first give me a sign of life, or else you can go on talking to yourself. Did you get any of that?’

Kenny let the rustling noise continue down the line for a while.

‘Yoyo, my jade girl,’ he sighed. ‘Clearly your world-view is based on a series of misunderstandings. In stories like this the roles are assigned in a different way. Every one of your words that doesn’t meet with my absolute approval will cause pain to Hongbing. I’ll let you off with the “sick fuck”.’ He giggled. ‘You could even be right.’

Vain as a peacock, thought Jericho. Kenny might be a pretty exotic specimen of a contract killer, but he seemed much closer to the profile of a psychopathic serial killer. Narcissistic, in love with his own words, flirting affectionately with his own obnoxiousness.

‘A sign of life,’ Yoyo insisted.

All of a sudden the black rectangle changed. Kenny’s face filled it almost completely. He hovered above the pearly beach like a spirit in a bottle. Then he vanished from the camera’s perspective, and a room became visible, with a wall of windows at the back, bright daylight falling through them. The outlines of some items of furniture could be seen, a chair with someone sitting on it. In front of it, something black, massive and three-legged.

‘Father,’ whispered Yoyo.

‘Please say something, honourable Chen,’ said Kenny’s voice.

Chen Hongbing sat as motionless on his chair as if he had become a part of it. With the light behind him, it was almost impossible to make out his face. When he spoke he sounded as if someone was walking on dry leaves.

‘Yoyo. Are you okay?’

‘Father,’ she cried. ‘It’s all fine, everything’s going to be fine!’

‘It— I’m so sorry.’

‘No, I’m the one who’s sorry. I really am!’ A moment later her eyes filled with tears. With a visible effort of will she forced herself to calm down. Kenny appeared in the picture again.

‘Terrible quality, this phone,’ he said. ‘I’m afraid your father could hardly hear you. Perhaps you could come and see him, what do you think?’

‘If you do anything—’ Yoyo began unsteadily.

‘What I do is entirely up to you,’ Kenny replied coolly. ‘He’s quite comfortable at the moment, except that his mobility is a little restricted. He is sitting in the sights of an automatic rifle. He can speak and blink. If he suddenly feels like jumping in the air or just raising his arm, the gun will go off. Unfortunately it will also do that if he tries to scratch himself. Not quite so cosy, perhaps.’

‘Please don’t hurt him,’ sobbed Yoyo.

‘I’m not interested in hurting anyone, believe it or not. So come here, and come quickly.’ Kenny paused. When he went on talking, the snakelike tone had left his voice. Suddenly he sounded friendly again, almost matey, the way Zhao Bide had spoken. ‘Your father has my word that nothing will happen as long as you cooperate. That involves telling me the names of everyone who knows about the intercepted message, or even what was in it. And you are to give me every, really every drive with a download of the message on it.’

‘You destroyed my computer,’ said Yoyo.

‘I destroyed something, yes. But did I destroy everything ?’

‘Don’t contradict him,’ Jericho whispered to Yoyo.

She said nothing.

‘You see.’ Kenny smiled as if his assumption had been confirmed. ‘Don’t worry, I’ll keep my word. And bring that shaven-headed giant with you, you remember the one. You will both come in through the front door, it’s open.’ He paused. Something seemed to go through his head, then he asked, ‘By the way, has this guy Owen Jericho been in touch with you?’

‘Jericho?’ Yoyo echoed.

‘The detective?’

Jericho had been keeping out of view of the phone, so that he saw the scene in Chen’s flat, but couldn’t be seen by Kenny. He gave Yoyo a sign and shook his head violently.

‘I have no idea where that idiot is,’ she said contemptuously.

‘Why so harsh?’ Kenny raised his eyebrows in amazement. ‘He saved you.’

‘He wants to jerk me around the same as you do, doesn’t he? You said he killed Grand Cherokee.’

A flicker of amusement played around Kenny’s lips.

‘Yes. Of course. So, when can you get here?’

‘As quick as I can,’ sniffed Yoyo. ‘Depends on the traffic. Quarter of an hour? Is that okay?’

‘Completely okay. You and Daxiong. Unarmed. I see a gun, Chen dies. Anyone else comes through the door, he dies. Anyone tries to disarm the automatic rifle, off it goes. As soon as everything’s sorted out, we’ll leave the house together. Oh, yes – if reinforcements are waiting outside or anyone tries to play the hero, Chen dies too. He can only leave his chair when I’ve deactivated the mechanism.’

The line went dead.

The weird calls of big animals reached them from the distance. A breeze rustled the bushes that lined the beach to the meadow, and set clusters of blossom bobbing up and down.

‘That bastard,’ groaned Yoyo. ‘That damned—’

‘Whatever he is, he’s not omnipotent.’

‘He isn’t?’ she yelled at him. ‘You saw what’s going on! Do you really think he’ll let him live? Or me?’

‘Yoyo—’

‘So what am I supposed to do?’ She shrank back. Her lower lip was trembling. She shook her head, as tears ran down her cheeks. ‘What on earth am I supposed to do? What should I do?’

‘Hey,’ he said. ‘We’ll get him out of there. I promise you. No one’s going to die, you hear?’

‘And how are you going to achieve that?’

Jericho started walking up and down. He didn’t really know either, yet. Bit by bit, a plan was starting to form in his head. A crazy undertaking that depended on a whole series of very different factors. The glass façade behind Chen Hongbing played a part in it, as did the captured airbike. He needed to talk to Tu Tian as well.

‘Forget it,’ said Yoyo breathlessly. ‘Let’s go.’

‘Wait.’

‘But I can’t wait! I have to get to my father. Let’s get out of here.’ She held her right hand out to him.

‘Hang on, Yoyo—’

‘Now!’

‘Just one minute. I—’ He chewed on his bottom lip. ‘I know how we’re going to do this. I know!’

The house on Siping Lu, number 1276, had retained the monotonous pastel of some of the blocks of flats built in the Shanghai district of Hongkou at the turn of the millennium. When the weather was gloomy it seemed to disappear into the sky. As if to counteract this, emphatically green-tinted panes of glass broke up the façade, another stylistic device of an era that made even skyscrapers look like cheap toys.

Unlike the high-rises a street further on, number 1276 contented itself with six floors, had generously sized balconies and also flaunted what looked a bit like a pagoda roof. On either side of the balconies, the dirty white boxes of the air-conditioning system clung to the plaster. Listlessly flapping in the wind was a tattered banner, on which the inhabitants of the building demanded the immediate suspension of building work on the maglev, another elevated highway that would lead right past their front door, and whose pillars already loomed high above the street. Aside from this pitiful gesture towards revolt, the building was no different from number 1274 or 1278.