Richard House - The Kills

Udo confronts Henning, Rike can’t prevent him. He wants to know more about Mattaus’s dealings with the Russians. Rike is asked to move away; instead she sits down close by. She can’t believe he would challenge Henning at this time, in this place. The conversation is taken to a corner. Once Udo stops haranguing, almost shouting, with bad and tight gestures, they both become silent and appear to sulk. Udo recaps the information. Fills in the blanks.

‘Were they a couple?’

‘I think so. They haven’t known each other long.’

‘How long is not long ?’

Henning looks to Rike for support and they both agree that not long possibly means two months, maybe even a little longer. They barter dates, slowly admit to the facts as they understand them. Is this really the right time? Rike wants to take the man aside, push him down some stairs.

Udo makes a show about counting the weeks. Fingers out.

Henning crosses his arms and clenches his fists. ‘It’s not that long.’

How could this be worse for Henning? A pregnancy — so close to the due date — concluding with spotting, an errant brother-in-law, and now a manager who wields immeasurable influence over his future. Henning doesn’t deserve to be cornered like this. Add Tomas to this mess. Tomas is a falling piano, a random surprise from the sky. Just when you need it.

‘And how long have you known?’

‘Saturday. He came to dinner and told us, and since then he hasn’t been in touch. Look. I can’t think about this now.’

The men stand with their arms folded, mouths pursed. Rike sits and faces the corridor, waits for news about Isa. Hasn’t she expected this? Wasn’t this, more or less, what she fretted about? And while she couldn’t have anticipated the accompanying troubles (Mattaus. Tomas. Lexi), didn’t she always know something would go wrong? Udo, though, there’s no accounting for Udo’s lack of timing and tact.

She knows enough not to say anything. Not even a hint.

Instead they wait for news, with an occasional expression from Udo. ‘You don’t tell me this — I had no idea? I find out now?’

Henning, summoned by a doctor, leaves Rike with Udo. As he walks away the doctor talks. If the baby is in distress they will induce. The situation isn’t so serious, he advises (an arm now on Henning’s shoulder), he just wants Henning to understand the possibilities. To be prepared to make choices. These aren’t little things any more.

Udo wants to talk. Rike can’t think about an unborn child in distress. Can’t imagine what this really means. She doesn’t like the organized quiet of the waiting room. She doesn’t like the word spotting. Instead it’s easier to focus on Udo.

Rike opens the conversation by saying she hopes Henning returns soon with news — and adds: ‘So what happened with — what was his name?’ She can’t look at the man. ‘What happened with the Russian? How did he fall?’

Udo answers so slowly he blinks between words. ‘We don’t properly know.’

This isn’t unusual. Udo explains. Drunk guests (Brits, almost always), convinced by the proximity of the pool to their balcony, take the plunge and commit themselves either to death or a lifetime of feeding tubes and bed baths. There’s actually a procedure for closing off the pool and drawing the blinds in the bar and reception every time this happens, it’s that frequent.

Udo draws an expression which implies that this a little tiresome. It’s happened a good number of times. It isn’t unusual.

‘So it’s not exactly suspicious, then?’

Udo again makes the same broad-mouthed shrug that says this is of interest, he supposes, but little concern. ‘If your brother hadn’t disappeared, then this would all be dealt with. It would be over. It’s the connection we have to worry about.’

‘I don’t know what that means?’

‘It means we have to find him.’

‘It won’t be hard. He’s no criminal. He’ll be clueless.’ Rike tucks her hands under her thighs. It isn’t that she doesn’t trust herself, but the idea that she would like to slap Udo — not particularly hard — is growing louder in volume. ‘Is he in serious trouble?’

‘He ran away from an incident, which is a criminal offence. Yes, it’s serious. Until we know what happened more clearly it’s very serious.’

‘But, is it? Technically, you don’t know if he’s run away or not. You only know his phone was in the room.’

‘We need to speak with him.’ Udo can’t help but sneer. It isn’t that this is idiocy, this sneer suggests, just pedantic conjecture. He attempts to be polite. ‘You’re teaching? Henning said.’

‘I was,’ she gives a deliberate, insincere smile, ‘but I’m going to quit. My student has been lying to me.’ She likes saying this to him, just to open up the spite. She’s quitting because it’s all too complicated. She’s had enough. Lying is such a masculine weakness. It didn’t work out with Tomas Berens, so she isn’t going to make any effort.

‘Lying?’ Udo wipes a finger across his upper lip. He isn’t particularly listening.

She holds out the book. ‘Telling me stories from this book. Like they were his stories.’

‘Good stories?’

‘Lies.’

‘When did you last see your brother?’

‘The same time as Henning. The same meal.’ Rike wants to explain about the book, she’d like to speak with someone about Tomas (not Henning, certainly not Isa) without automatically sparking an argument. It might help to work through what has happened. ‘Mattaus gave me this book.’

‘Sorry?’

‘Mattaus. He said he recognized the name of the man I’m teaching. And then he arranged for someone to give me this book. Yesterday, so I think he must still be in Cyprus.’

Udo makes a droll double-take. ‘You didn’t see him — but he gave you the book?’

‘He had someone deliver it to me. A boy. Russian. I think a friend of his…’ She can’t figure out the word, not partner, not boyfriend. How close an association did Mattaus have with Lexi? ‘I was so angry I wouldn’t take it from him. So the boy delivered it to Isa. He took it to the apartment.’

‘The club manager? The man who fell?’

‘No. A boy. A young boy. He said he had to deliver the book right into my hands.’

Udo wants to see the book. Now he wants to hear the story. ‘So Mattaus knows this man?’

‘Who? My student? I doubt that he knows him. He said he recognized the name.’

She tells him what has happened. Gives short details: the jealous Christos, the doctor, the doctor’s son. The speech-therapist mother. This is what she’s found so far. Borrowings, situations, and histories. At first, as an overall idea, it doesn’t sound unusual. She set assignments for the man and he stole the material and used it as his own. These are the facts. What’s really so terrible? But that he achieved this in such a bare-faced way starts to sound unhinged. He didn’t even bother to invent anything, he just changed the location.

‘That’s what I don’t understand. I think he expected me to find out.’

With unexpected insight, Udo hits another problem. Did he believe these stories? Did he believe what he was telling her?

The answer is yes. It has to be. But even so, the basic act is wrong — because stories are good, aren’t they? Stories are how we connect. Evolution isn’t seriously about thumbs but about how we use language — that’s what raises us above dumb animals, right? Language? There’s something Rike just isn’t getting. While every other student wants to connect, Tomas wanted to misconnect. Deceive.