Nicholas Searle - The Good Liar

Heavy footsteps crossed the room and then came back. Hans

assumed they were those of his father. Someone dragged a chair

back noisily and sat heavily on it. He heard the soothing tones of his mother’s voice.

‘Ah yes,’ said Wolff, as if he had forgotten something important.

‘It would of course be difficult for you under normal circumstances to leave the country. But I have contacts and may be able to

obtain exit visas. It will be for you to acquire an entry visa wherever you go, if you see sense. I would be prepared to do you this one last service, but only for the sake of Hans. I will be at the school by

six thirty in the morning. You may wish to consider your next

steps overnight and if you want my assistance please see me there.

Bring your papers. After that I will be prepared to help you no

more.’

There followed a brief final exchange before Wolff said loudly

and in apparent anger, ‘I hope you will understand the potential

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difficulties I am prepared to risk. For the sake of your son.

Goodnight.’

Hans heard the door slam. He went quickly to his bed and picked

up his book. But his door did not open until several minutes later.

His father knocked before coming in. He said quietly, ‘Hans, your

mother and I have something to discuss with you.’

5

Two evenings later at Frankfurt station, Hans and his father were

awaiting the departure of the overnight train to Paris. Konrad Taub was dressed soberly. His firebrand beard had been shaved off and his hair trimmed. He murmured occasionally to his son in his best

approximation of a reassuring tone.

They had taken the train from Berlin the previous morning, leav-

ing Renate to neaten the remnants of their existence there. Konrad

and Renate Taub were dutiful and orderly, and viewed it as their

civic responsibility to manage their affairs sensibly.

On the evening of Wolff ’s visit and after they had decided they

must leave Germany the three of them had sat at the kitchen table

and compiled a list. Konrad would see Wolff first thing the next

morning to ask for the exit visas. He would go from there to the

British Embassy, where he knew someone who, he was sure, could

arrange for visas for France and England. Neither he nor Renate

expressed concerns that Wolff ’s offers might be a ruse to incriminate them. In a sense, Hans found their instinctive trust almost

touching. But inside him the seed of doubt about Weber’s good

faith in this transaction was growing.

After Konrad had obtained the visas, he and Renate would go to

the bank and withdraw as much cash as possible. The rest they

would arrange to be transferred to the account of Renate’s sister.

They would need to buy train tickets. They would pack carefully,

and there would be letters to write to family and friends. It was

obvious that not everything could be achieved in a single day, so

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they agreed that Renate should remain in Berlin for an extra day to work through the other items on the list, ranging from settling their account at the grocer’s to informing her friends at the welfare centre where she worked that she and her husband were taking a break in

Bavaria for a few days.

Hans had argued that she should drop everything and simply

leave with them if they took seriously what Herr Professor Wolff

had said. Knowing they did not fully appreciate their situation, he challenged their logic, but in vain. ‘It’s me they’re interested in, Hans,’ his father said. ‘Your mother’s not in danger. We can’t leave just like that. We need to get everything in order.’ Hans felt desperate and irritated at the same time but had known that to insist

further would be both pointless and potentially perilous to him.

The plan had been for Renate to join them on the train, but

clearly this would not happen. The large clock on the platform had

just ticked past eleven p.m. Steam rose in grimy clouds to the

cathedral- like arches and the glass roof of the grand terminal station as the engine gathered its strength. Hisses and the sound of the announcement of the train’s imminent departure broke the night

silence. There was no movement on the platform, monochrome in

the artificial light. It seemed that the passengers had boarded and everything was now reduced to waiting. Four minutes to go. They

climbed aboard and slammed the door behind them.

‘She’ll catch us up later,’ whispered Konrad. ‘We’ll see her in

Paris.’

There were several emptier compartments on the train but Kon-

rad insisted on taking the last two available seats in this one, to silent glares. Their travelling companions were, it seemed, businessmen

but not particularly successful ones, travelling second class with no sleeping arrangements. There was a solitary woman, blonde, pretty

and in her thirties, thought Hans, who pouted defiantly at the men, daring them to look at her or talk to her, and signalling consequences if they did.

The train moved with a jolt and edged slowly through the sub-

urbs to the invisible black countryside, where it thundered through the winter night. They were on their way to England, that faraway

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country, distant if not in geography then in philosophy. The sway-

ing motion, the regular beat of the engine and the clack of the rails were comforting and after the rush of excitement Hans felt utterly

exhausted and found sleep.

He awoke suddenly. The train was silent and still and the com-

partment dark. His father leaned on his shoulder, his head lolling.

Carefully, Hans nudged him so that his head rocked to the window

of the corridor with a small thud. Konrad did not wake. There was

the sound of heavy breathing in the compartment and the foul

smell of eight bodies emitting their unguarded odours, leavened by

the sweet lavender of the woman’s scent. No one else was awake, it

seemed.

His eyes were coming to terms with the light. He glanced out of

the window. He could see lamps but no station signs. Opposite his

father sat the woman, pressed into her corner seat, avoiding contact with the thin moustached stranger next to her. She too was asleep,

her mouth open, and her skirt had ridden up. Hans could see clearly the suspenders that held her sheer stockings up, and a morsel of

thrilling porcelain flesh. He stared, then something made him look

up. She was looking into his eyes and smiled maliciously. She opened her legs further and Hans could see more white leg and the light

sheen of her underwear, soft silk and peach- coloured in his mind, though he could not in fact make out the detail. The woman closed

her eyes with a smile and, it seemed to Hans, leaned back further,

turning her legs minutely towards him. Perhaps he imagined this;

but the sight of her skin and that fabric was real enough.

He tried to concentrate on the pleasurable sensation this gener-

ated in his groin. For a while his arousal sustained wakefulness, but eventually sleep flooded him once more as the train resumed its

journey.

Hans woke again later. Everyone else in the compartment

was already moving, dishevelled but preparing to leave the train.

Ties were straightened, hair was combed, hats were clamped on

heads and fingers screwed sleep out of eyes. The woman calmly

applied her lipstick, glancing at him without expression. The beam