The first gulp of beer hits him like a dull thud in his arms and legs. As the shock wears off, so does the feeling that he has understood everything. Sebastian realizes that he was wrong in thinking he had fully grasped the situation. In physics, when an attempt is made to go beyond the limits of the knowable, mathematics takes over from the imagination. But the sentence “Dabbelink must go” cannot be expressed as a mathematical formula, so it stays outside the parameters of Sebastian’s understanding. This has consequences. Until now, Sebastian has looked toward the future believing that he is looking out at an open prospect. From this day onward, he will be looking down at his feet. His new world is the little patch of ground beneath his next step. He won’t run across exit ramps anymore. He will not even try to locate the perpetrators in his mind. He will simply do what is being asked of him. As cleanly as possible. Surgically. His blackmailers have chosen him because they need someone who will do the job properly. Sebastian will do everything to make sure he does not disappoint them. Resolutely he opens the newspaper to the contents page.
When the clock above the bar displays ten thirty, his mobile phone has only one bar of battery left. Almost as soon as he picks it up, a ring pierces the air. Tables and chairs crash into each other and settle down again as the woman in the pink coat stands, pressing her phone to her cheek. Nodding and talking at the same time, she walks out of the restaurant. While Sebastian is looking after her, there is another ring. He cannot muster the same sense of shock.
“Hello?”
“Sebastian, you won’t believe how beautiful it is here!”
The sharp pain in his gut had died down with very little resistance after he had sat down in the restaurant. But Maike’s voice brings back the pain. Between her words Sebastian feels he can hear his son, and he feels this so keenly that Maike must surely notice it. “In twenty-six hours, thirteen minutes, and approximately ten seconds, I’ll be with the scouts in the woods!” Sebastian has to get off the phone and conserve his battery. Maike chats about misty mountains and little lakes looking up at the sky like blue eyes. She talks about swimming pools, the sauna, and massages. Cuba libres at the bar.
“Maike!”
That comes out harsher than intended. Sebastian does not have the patience to try for a specific tone of voice.
“What’s up?” A faint reflection of his shock colors her voice.
“I have to get off the phone. The battery is low.”
“Did everything go OK with Liam?”
“He slept through the whole journey.”
“Are you back at home?”
“Almost.”
“Are you sure everything is all right?”
“Of course! Maike, the battery…”
A little jingle sounds and the display shows two intertwined fishes. Sebastian has never understood what the phone manufacturer meant to say with this symbol. When he tries to turn his mobile on again, he gets as far as typing in his PIN before the display goes dead. He feels like letting his head sink into the open newspaper, only to realize it is already there. Three centimeters away from his right eye, a blond man is laughing out of a photograph. It is he. He knows the caption by heart. “Everything that is possible happens. Freiburg professor explains the theories of the time-machine murderer.”
When someone calls his name, he does not even have the strength for astonishment. The cashier comes to the table—the yellow and red pattern on her apron swims before his eyes.
A woman rang but did not wish to speak to him. She just wanted to leave a message to let Sebastian know that he could return to his car when he wished.
[7]
THE STREETLAMPS AT THE EDGE OF THE PARKING LOT are wearing broad skirts of light. Without the trucks flanking it, the spot where Sebastian had parked is no longer a gap, just a random space on the black asphalt. Now everything is a gap apart from the Volvo, which is standing in its previous position as if it had never been gone. Sebastian’s shadow hurries before him and casts itself against the driver’s door; it is unlocked and the backseat is empty. Liam’s bags are gone. The floor of the trunk needs a good clean.
The ignition does not react at the turn of the key. Sebastian bends down and finds a couple of wires hanging loose beneath the dashboard. As he twists the two ends together, the engine springs to life. When his shin brushes against the tangle of wires, the headlights flicker and the engine splutters. Sebastian spreads his knees as far apart as he can, gets into gear, and drives off.
There are a handful of cars on the A81, heading toward unknown destinations. After the first few miles, Sebastian turns on the radio. I haven’t moved since the call came. He sings along quietly in a monotone.