KARSTEN KREPINSKY

A Tower Below The Sea

Translated from the German by

KARIN DUFNER

Copyright (c) 2019 by Karsten Krepinsky

English translation in 2020 by Karin Dufner

www.karindufner.de

First published with the title Blutroter Schleier in 2019 by Karsten Krepinsky/Neuwelt Verlag.

Cover design by Ingo Krepinsky, Die TYPONAUTEN

www.typonauten.de/eng

Published by Karsten Krepinsky, October 2020

All rights reserved.

No part of this e-book may be reproduced, stored in a retrieval system or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic, mechanical, photocopying or otherwise without the prior written permission of the author.

www.theworldbehindthewindow.com

About the Book

An offshore oil rig. And a sinister secret.

Six people, all up for a good party. They work for Global Companion, a multi-national corporation, and are now airlifted to a yacht anchored in the Atlantic. A one-week luxury vacation is awaiting the winners of the company sweepstakes. However, they are in for a tragic disappointment. A heavy storm forces the chopper’s pilot to risk an emergency landing on a darkened offshore oil rig, whose crew seems to have gone AWOL. Pools of blood strongly point to gruesome happenings on board. Soon, the first brutal murder occurs. Who is behind it? And who will be slaughtered next? The only answer seems to be death, an evil force which shrouds this island made of steel like a blood-red veil …

A dystopian thriller by Karsten Krepinsky

For all those who love the unexpected …

“If you cannot have something, destroy it.” Lex Lovenberg

Prologue

My hands! Oh, my beautiful hands! My white cotton gloves have turned red. They’ll be saturated with my blood soon! I’ve been having this dream quite often recently, but it has never felt so real.

What’s different this time?

He’s here, the old man.

What is he doing?

The old man grabs me by the hands and drags me from my bed. I’m feeling very safe in my bed, you know. It’s so cozy under the blanket. But the old man has shattered this safety. He’s taking everything away from me.

What, do you think, might be the meaning of all this?

I don’t know. I’ve never dreamed of this old man before. He’s wearing a long overcoat and a hat. You know, I don’t get afraid easily. I’d have to reach way back into my past to come up with something scary. When I was a child, I was worried about what was going on under my bed. You must have heard of these stories about monsters lurking in the closet. They’re rather common, don’t you think so? For me, it was my bed. Or better, what was happening underneath.

Did it cause you nightmares?

Yes, it used to. Frequently.

What about recently?

Never. I’m traveling a lot, my job makes me get around. Sometimes I go to sleep by myself, sometimes there is a man sharing my bed. This time I have my bed all to my little lonesome. I’m feeling safe under the blanket. It’s raining outside, you know. There’s this storm. I think it’s the worst storm I’ve ever experienced. I crashed with a plane. Or was it a chopper? I’m not sure. Everything feels so weird and distant. Be it as it may, I’m stranded on an island. Well, it’s not really an island. It’s not made of rocks and sand but … kind of … well … metallic. Yes, metallic, that’s the word! This island has obviously been built by humans.

And now the old man’s coming closer?

It’s so very cozy under the blanket.

What’s the old man doing to you?

Horrible things. He yanks me from my bed. I scream and try to hit him as hard as I can, but the old man is strong. Why is he so strong? Hell, he’s just an old geezer. And I’m a woman who knows how to defend herself. But he tosses me to the ground like a bundle of rags. How can this be possible? How can an old man like this be so incredibly strong?

What do you feel?

I feel cold.

You’re not feeling any pain?

Maybe I did in the beginning. It really must have … hurt like hell, considering all the blood. But now the pain is gone. The old man actually does look rather kind. He has a beard and he’s smiling. But there’s something wrong with his face. It’s weirding me out. His skin. It keeps on changing. Black patches pop up and go away again. Like dark shadows, sort of.

Do you have any idea what could be the meaning of this?

No, I’m totally lost here.

Have you ever met this old man before?

I don’t know.

Think.

I might have.

When did you meet him?

In Berlin. Somewhere in Berlin. I don’t really remember.

Try harder.

Why is it so important?

Everything is important.

Stop tormenting me. I really want to be left alone now.

It’s not my job to torment you.

Of course not, you’re my shrink.

What makes you think I’m your shrink?

Who else should you be?

I’m not your shrink.

Of course not. Not really. It’s a dream. You’re the shrink my subconscious has made up.

What gives you this idea?

I once read an article about it.

It’s not a dream.

Not a dream? No? You’re joking! What else is this supposed to be?

Your pain is too strong. All these injuries you suffered.

I’ve no idea what you’re talking about.

I’ll explain. Just think of a wildebeest when it’s slain by a lion.

I’m not an animal.

I’m aware of this. It’s just an example to help you understand what’s happening to you.

Okay.

In the beginning, the wildebeest fights back with all it has, not wanting to accept that it will be eaten. But eventually the will to live wanes and the wildebeest gives up the fight. The body produces endorphins to dull the pain. The animal will just stare into space. During these last moments of its life its mind has actually shut off and left its tortured body.

So? What does this have to do with me?

You can stop fighting now.

I can stop fighting?

Yes.

Why the hell do you say something stupid like this?

To make it easier for you.

To make what easier?

Dying.

1

North Atlantic, 70 miles off the Scottish coast …

The black bank of clouds had balled up threateningly on the horizon. The waves churned up by an angry sea were several feet high. A deluge of rain was pelting the windows of CH 53 Sea Stallion. The pilot maneuvered the cargo helicopter right into the heart of the storm. The passengers in the CH 53’s luxury cabin weren’t really aware of the destructive forces of nature at play outside. At the moment a promotion video of Global Companion was flickering across the flatscreen monitors. Images of smiling people, strolling across a green lawn. Happily and without a care in the world, the perfectly styled models were posing for the camera. The message of the commercial was that GC took good care of every aspect of people’s lives. Customers had no reason to worry, because the worldwide corporation thrived on the philosophy of offering support to everyone. It was a friend to those in need, no matter what happened. During the last decade the influential conglomerate had swallowed thousands of other industrial corporations, thus securing itself monopolies in many countries around the globe. Beer cans, tubes of toothpaste, coffee tins, cell phones, refrigerators, computers, and pill bottles were emblazoned with the company’s logo. Global Companion also was a provider of utilities, insurance, and electric cars. It built houses and supplied security staff for major events. When you ended up in the hospital, the odds were that you came to in a bed manufactured by GC, the intravenous drip in your arm being a product of one of its affiliated companies. The brand Global Companion literally accompanied people from the cradle to the grave.

Six employees of said corporation were now reclining in the overstuffed leather seats that furnished the GC-helicopter’s passenger cabin. They were all wearing name tags. As GC had a first-name policy the tags showed Christian names only. They neither gave any indication of a person’s job within the corporation nor of their rank. Three men and three women were the winners of the GC sweepstakes. The annual lottery was open to everyone, from checkout clerk in a GC-supermarket to CEO of one of GC’s investment banks. When the names were pulled from a digital raffle drum, it was the same odds for all. First prize was a one-week luxury vacation aboard the yacht Love One, anchored before the Scottish coast.

Kim crossed her legs and turned around to face Rick. He was in his mid-twenties and quite an attractive man with chiseled features, sparkling blueish-grey eyes, dark hair, and wide shoulders. Kim sighed to herself. Sadly, Rick was a little short for her five-eleven. Also about ten years too young. As opposed to the chopper’s pilot, whom she had chatted up a little on the tarmac in Glasgow. He was tall and maybe in his late thirties, same as she was. Hair flecked with grey, Mike resembled George Clooney in his salad days: mature, masculine, but still exuding a mischievous playfulness, signaling that he hadn’t lost his youthful charm. A shame that Mike and Rick, as well as the other two men aboard, were wearing beards. Kim cursed this deplorable hipster fashion that, spreading like an epidemic, forced her to put up with men whose faces sprouted shaggy shrubbery. Kim preferred her men cleanly shaven, meaning all over their bodies, their skulls being the only exception, because baldies like Jason Stratham weren’t really her thing either. As Mike was momentarily sitting out of sight in the CH53’s cockpit, Rick made the top of Kim’s list—for the time of the flight, at least. Ed and Claas in the seats opposite were absolutely unsexy specimens as far as Kim was concerned. Claas was a tall and lanky guy with red hair, an androgynous face, and a remote and almost asexual air. The perfect metrosexual contrast to powerful Mike, the pilot. Ed, mid forties, with a deeply wrinkled forehead and a permanent frown, in Kim’s view was the most unattractive of the three. She arched her back and lasciviously shifted in her leather seat until the seat belt hoisted up her breasts like a push-up bra. Rick noticed. What a cute smile he had, Kim thought happily. If he only hadn’t been too short for her, she fretted, biting her lower lip. But when Kim was honest with herself, she wasn’t perfect either. While her body was a drop-dead success with the guys passing her on the street, her face didn’t seem to warrant a second look. Many times Kim had felt the looks of admirers on her back and enjoyed them ogling her slender body in a mini skirt. But more often than not their eyes dulled with disappointment as soon as she turned around to face them. It was as if she had violated some erotic fantasy, destroying it with a slap that was mirrored in the men’s faces. While no one would have called Kim ugly, her features just lacked the kind of delicate beauty that made men salivate. Her face was a study in nondescript blandness, as if the divine stone mason simply had gotten bored upon reaching the place where the neck meets the face. But it was useless to argue with fate. Kim scored big when she had the chance to show off her wares in skimpy bikinis. At the pool-sides or on beaches when men’s eyes rarely strayed beyond her well-formed breasts. Her body was Kim’s ace in the sleeve. However, it was her perfectly proportioned hands that put bread on her table. Kim took off her cotton gloves to view her fingers with a critical eye. Her skin had absorbed the moisturizing lotion by now. Currently, Kim was working as a hand model for GC Fashion. Therefore, she took very good care of her hands and protected them from harm of all kinds. She always wore thin gloves when on vacation, lest her skin might be damaged by ultraviolet rays. Her fingers were elf-like and slender. When hands with a caucasian coloring were featured in an advertising booklet, those hands most likely belonged to Kim.

“Man, how much longer do they want to make me endure this commercial shit?” Ed groaned. “Up to now I’ve really believed that we’d hit the jackpot. One week aboard a luxury yacht. And now they force us to stare at flat-chested models with goofy grins.”

Next to Ed, Liv ran her hand over her bun. “Just think of the heli-transfer as foreplay. Once we’re aboard the fun can begin.”

“If this is meant to be foreplay,” Ed grumbled, “I’d rather do without the actual act.”

A gust of wind shook the helicopter, jolting the passengers like on a roller-coaster ride.

Liv was leaning over to Ed. “Love One is absolutely legendary. I’m sure that we’ll have an adventure we’ll never forget.”

Kim narrowed her eyes at her competitor. Was Liv going to upstage her once they were aboard? Liv was half Asian and middle-aged. Even though her skin looked smooth and youthful, over forty years of life had left their marks in her face. Her eyes, that were now scanning her environment, showed intelligence and awareness. Liv clearly attracted another type of man than she did, Kim told herself. Intellectuals and thinkers. Well, she was welcome to Ed, the grouch. Now Kim only had to dispose of one more rival aboard the chopper—and this girl had class. Joy was a strawberry blonde and in her mid-twenties with the complexion of a China doll and a body that seemed to be made for the catwalk. Kim’s guess was that she worked as a model. Her hair was caught up with pins and she looked a bit underweight and anemic. Like most girls did in the modeling business. Kim hoped that Joy, also like many models, suffered from bulimia, as constant trips to the bathroom would definitely throw a spanner into her dating routine. She tried to sneak a peek at Joy’s teeth, but her perfectly shaped lips did not allow her to inspect her incisors, thus making it impossible to find out whether her tooth enamel had already been corroded by stomach acids.

“It’s plain stupid,” Joy complained. She was watching the churning water outside the helicopter’s side window. “Yesterday the weather was fabulous, and we had to stay in the hotel. And today? Well, just look for yourselves.”

“The company knows exactly what it’s doing,” was Rick’s calm reply. “Maybe they think it adds to the thrill.”

“Thrill,” Joy scoffed. “I could do very well without it.”

“Don’t get yourself worked up.” Rick smiled at Joy. “They won’t take this delay off our week on the yacht. It’s one more day of paid leave.”

“Doesn’t make a difference, if we’ll spend the whole time barfing our souls out.”

“Don’t you worry. Minor turbulences like this won’t bother a Sea Stallion. They used them in Afghanistan and even in Vietnam during the seventies. One of these birds was hit by two RPGs once, which didn’t stop it from flying on.”

Ed frowned. “RPGs?”

“Rocket-propelled grenades,” Rick explained, smiling.

Ed knocked on the back of this seat three times. “Well, I assume we won’t be meeting any Taliban before the Scottish coast. I’m not so sure about Vietcong, however.”

“I just hope that there are sick bags in case of emergency,” Joy said, digging in the pocket of her armrest. “My stomach tends to rebel in situations like this.”

Kim silently hooted. Joy was just a fragile China doll, after all. Thinking of her own athletic and robust constitution made her feel superior. In fifteen years Kim hadn’t been forced to cancel even one photo-shooting due to illness. And her nerves were made of steel. Two years ago she had soldiered through the New York marathon in spite of a torn hamstring.

“Why don’t you use the ice bucket?” Ed suggested. “This way your barf will be kept cool.”

“Gross!” Joy was clearly repulsed.

Ed laughed. To him it was incomprehensible that Joy didn’t see the humor in his sarcastic jokes. Although she seemed to be an intelligent woman. He, for his part, simply enjoyed to derail people with his comments.

With a shudder Joy took a pill package out of her bag and popped a ginger pill out of the blister foil. “I knew it was a mistake to go on this trip,” she said, tossing the pill into her mouth. “I should have never left my lab. It forced me to interrupt an important experiment. Now I’ll have to start a new culture of algae.” Joy washed down the pill with tomato juice.

“Algae?” Rick repeated. “What do you have to do with algae?”

“They’re my little green darlings.”

“Darlings?”

“I work for a start-up. We do research on how to produce biofuel from algae.”

“Wow!” Rick was impressed. “That means you actually went to university. I’ve taken you for a model or something.”

“Not looking bad doesn’t automatically make you a model,” Joy replied pointedly.

Rick’s smile was all innocence. “Well, I’m a barista.”

“A scientist with GC?” Ed asked, shaking his head. “I guess I’ll have to call you doctor, then.”

Joy nodded, turning away.

“Goodness, we have a doctor aboard,” Ed kept on milking the subject. “Aren’t you a bit young?”

Joy defensively crossed her arms. “Twenty-six. Plenty of time to study.”

“You’re a real doctor?” Rick was awed. “You’ll be able to treat us if one of us gets sick.”

“I don’t believe it!” Ed cleared his throat. “Do you seriously think that every doctor practices medicine? Man, you’re not the brightest candle on the cake, are you?”

Rick only grinned. “The candle which doesn’t burn so bright, makes up for it by burning longer.” Rick had learned not to mind these personal jibes. It had never bothered him that already his teachers in high school had doubted his academic talents. The more abuse was heaped on him, the more popular it made him with his class-mates. The girls in particular hadn’t been able to resist the good-looking rebel, with the result that he’d captured their hearts in droves.

“Makes sense.“ Ed realized that it wasn’t easy to unnerve a happy camper like Rick. He filled two glasses with champagne, passed one to Rick, and raised his own in a toast. “Well, then let’s have fun together.”

Rick drained his glass in one gulp. “Whatever happens aboard won’t leave the Love One. That’s rule number one during our vacation. My friends, a chance like this presents itself only once in a lifetime.”

Kim closed her eyes. Her thoughts only circled around Joy. How to dispose of this China-doll, who didn’t only have fabulous looks but also was a goddamn genius, trying to save the world? But maybe Joy’s bitchiness would make her vulnerable. In Kim’s view a definite plus in the upcoming confrontation. And what about Liv, the half-Asian woman? Rival number two didn’t seem to be interested in the men aboard. Or had she already homed in on Rick and was now taking it easy? Kim didn’t plan to give up Mike without a fight, neither to Liv nor to Joy. Because who would be left in this case? The mere idea of having to flirt with one of the other men sent Kim’s mood into a downward slide. Ed, the grouchy intellectual. Rick, who served coffee to hipsters, attractive, yes, but too low down in the food-chain for her. As far as stoic Claas was concerned, his red hair was a real turnoff. Kim fervently hoped that there would be a dishy personal trainer aboard the yacht. However, that wasn’t anything she could rely on.

“Here’s Mike from the cockpit,” the pilot’s voice came over the speaker. “There’s a storm-front coming up straight ahead. We have to expect heavy turbulences. Please, keep your seat-belts fastened and refrain from using the bathroom. In a few minutes we’ll reach the Love One.”

Kim silently sighed. What a deep masculine voice. She simply needed to get closer acquainted with Mike.

“Well, our George Clooney is really a sharp tack,” Ed was doing derisive. “It surely needs an avionics specialist to tell us that we’re having a storm.”

A bright flash of lightning shot past the right window.

“Wow, what was this?” Liv asked. She cast a worried look around. In the first moment she had feared that the chopper might go up in flames.

“Lightning struck,” Claas answered in a pedantic voice. “But don’t be afraid. We’re safe here. The helicopter works like a Faraday cage.”

Everyone turned to face Claas who so far hadn’t uttered a sound during the entire flight. His sudden burst of speech seemed to surprise them more than the angry elements unleashed by the storm. The helicopter was tossed about like a toy. The cabin’s insulation groaned as if the fuselage was going to crack open any moment.

“Don’t get your knickers in a twist.” Rick tried to make light of it. “It’s not a big thing for a Sea Stallion.”

Ed pensively gazed out of the window. For the first time the cynical smile was wiped off his face. The nonchalant distant air usually reserved for those around him had vanished into thin air. Panic took hold of him when he put down his glass without having finished his champagne. The cabin lights started to flicker and then went out. The emergency lights leading the way to the two exits bathed the passengers’ faces in a greenish hue.

Claas gave Rick an amazed look. “You don’t seem to be scared at all!”

“The company always has a plan,” Rick replied. “The whole thing could be just a test.”

“A test?” Claas raised his brows. “What are you talking about?”

“GC might be using this trip as a kind of assessment center to check out our potential.”

Ed’s complexion turned ashen. “Oh, great.”

When Joy offered him one of her pills against motion sickness, he chewed and then dry-swallowed it. “No foreplay, but a flaming assessment center.”

“This is Mike from the cockpit again. Please put on your life jackets. You’ll find them under your seats. This is only a precaution.”

“Now, I’m definitely starting to feel uncomfortable,” Liv admitted. “Life jackets? I’ve been a frequent flyer for decades without ever having to wear one of those.”

“Shit!” Claas took a look out of the window. “We’re going down! But there is no goddamn yacht in sight anywhere.”

“Do we have a co-pilot, by the way?” Rick remembered to ask.

“Where do you think he might be coming from?” Ed grumbled. “Did you see anyone getting on during the flight? They don’t have flight attendants either. Talking about the company taking care of everything. My ass!”

“Look!” Rick called out, pressing his face against the glass. “Down there … I saw something blinking!”

“This is Mike speaking,” a sonorous voice reverberated through the cabin. “We’re going down. Prepare for a rough landing!”

“Is this guy joking?” Joy bitched. “This wasn’t part of the deal.” She dug her cell from her bag. “Hell … I have to … I can … it’s … This thing can’t be dying on me … Not right now. Who will take care of my algae?”

“Hold on everybody!” yelled Claas. He had pulled his life jacket from its shelf, his sweaty hands clutching the orange safety device. Adrenalin made his body rigid. One gust of wind after the other attacked the copter. The noise of the rotors intensified, just to turn silent a moment later. A deathly quiet settled around the cabin.

“Prepare for impact!” the voice from the cockpit announced. “Hold on, everybody!”

“Oh, my God,” Ed whispered.

Kim crossed herself, even though she hadn’t set foot inside a church in years.

“This is a controlled crash!” Rick declared. His eyes shone with excitement. He seemed to see their situation as the chance of his lifetime to be a hero in the face of death. “As soon as the chopper hits water, I’ll yank open the doors. Don’t you worry, I’ll get you all out of here.”

“What’s the water temperature of the Atlantic at this time of the year?” Kim muttered. “47 degrees?” It was impossible to survive such a cold for longer than ten minutes. Even for her, a woman who had finished the New York marathon in spite of a torn hamstring.

“I can see a light down there! Something’s blinking!” Ed’s throat closed up. For a second he believed that he had made out an island crowned by a high tower that was jutting out of the churning sea. Was it real or was he hallucinating because the end was near? Ed dragged the life jacket over his head, slung the strap around his hips and let the clasp catch. He already had experienced a close brush with death thirty years ago. Living on borrowed time, he suspected. Death was knocking on his door once again. Ed stuck the emergency whistle attached to the life jacket between his lips. He could vividly picture what his end would be like. Maybe they had a guy with his kind of humor on the rescue team. He’d surely find a frozen floater with a whistle clamped between his teeth pretty hilarious. No matter what, the last laugh would definitely be on him.

2

A helipad somewhere in the North Atlantic …

“Where are we?” Joy was dragging herself across the ground, trying to get her bearings. The smoke filling the Sea Stallion’s passenger cabin was choking her. When she yanked at the rope of her life jacket, it self-inflated at once. “Let’s get out of here! Out!” she heard someone call. Like an ant following the scent trail of its siblings, she moved along the illuminated green line on the floor in the direction of the exit.

“What’s taking you so long?” Rick grabbed Joy by the arm and pulled her from the chopper. His leather jacket was soaked, long strands of hair stuck to his forehead. “What have you been doing all this time?”

Joy glanced back into the smoke-filled cabin. “My bag … I needed my keys … and my talisman.”

“Are you okay?”

Stunned, Joy touched a hand to her forehead. She had a salty taste on her tongue. “Where … where is the water?”

“The water? Below us, I guess.”

“Below us?” Joy repeated like in a trance without knowing what she was saying.

Rick studied Joy with a worried expression. “I think you’re in shock.”

Blood trickled from Joy’s mouth, blended with the raindrops, and streamed down her chin. “My lips … I guess I’ve bit my lips.”

“Can you move?”

Joy nodded.

“Then let’s go!”

“Just a moment.” Joy took off her high-heeled shoes, holding them in her hand. “It’s easier like this.”

“Hurry up now. The chopper could tumble off the platform any moment.”

“How … ? What is this place?”

“Never mind. It’s solid ground under our feet, don’t worry about anything else.”

The storm drove sheets of rain across a brightly lit landing platform. The sky was pitch-black, even though the sun couldn’t have gone down yet. The Sea Stallion had left deep gouges on the steel slabs. The hard impact had blown its tires. The chopper had careened for about a hundred feet, before it had been stopped by the ropes of a safety net. Even though Joy couldn’t see the ocean, she felt its presence. A dull roar surrounded her, filling her ears and drowning out all other sounds. A wild unleashed deluge battered the platform like it were an insignificant object, meant to be devoured.

“Over here! Come along!” Claas stood at the other end of the platform, frantically waving his arms. Arms linked, Joy and Rick battled against the violent wind.

“You’ve almost made it!” Claas pointed at a staircase leading to the lower level. “There are bunkers down here.”

“The storm’s getting worse and worse!” Rick wiped a strand of hair from his face to clear his sight.

“The others are already there!” Claas called out. “Where’s Mike? Where’s our pilot?”

Rick indicated the Sea Stallion. “He’s still in the cockpit. He told me he’d try to radio SOS.”

“Say again?” yelled Claas.

“SOS! He’ll radio SOS!” Rick roared over the noise.

“Let’s go down quick! Or else this friggin’ storm’ll blow us into the water!”

“Where are we?” asked Joy, still clinging on to Rick. The landing platform was a deserted rectangle of light, surrounded by a dark void.

“We’re alive. That’s all that counts at the moment.”

3

Inside a staff lounge …

“This place seems to be an offshore rig.” Mike’s hand held his helmet. Raindrops dripped from his soaked overalls, landing on the carpet.

“Offshore rig?” Claas wondered aloud. “Does your map really say so?”

“No, it doesn’t,” Mike replied.

“How can you tell that it’s an offshore rig, then?”

“We almost smashed into a drill derrick. It was a close call. I veered at the last moment.”

Kim wrapped a strand of hair around her index finger, dreamily gazing at Mike. Great, her nipples were showing through her wet blouse like in the night of the wet-t-shirt contest back then in Miami. “Thank you for getting us down in one piece,” she simpered.

Ed sat at the bar, sipping the long-drink he had just mixed from whisky and cola. “Yes, Mike, you really did great. Do you expect standing ovations for your fantastic performance?”

“I don’t expect anything,” Mike retorted. “I’m just glad that all of us have made it.”

“No, no, credit when credit is due.“ Ed smiled dismissively. “Thanks for flying us into the middle of a storm and making us crash. This surely was an aviatory masterpiece, you’re a wizard at the controls, I must say.”

“Why’re you giving me a hard time?” Disgusted, Mike flung down his helmet. “Spare me! I’ve met plenty of assholes like you. You know what I mean? All talk, nothing behind it. Always a pearl of wisdom on the tip of their tongues. But when the going gets tough, the likes of you run for cover with their tails between their legs.”

Ed turned around on his stool. He studied Mike, trying to look bored. “I, at least, don’t make it a habit to fly innocent people into storms of biblical proportions. How can anyone be so stupid?”

Claas waved his hands in a calming gesture. “Easy does it, guys. Let’s be grateful we’re still alive.”

Rick looked at Ed who didn’t yet seem to be happy with his drink, adding another shot of single malt. “In Scotland they’d string you up on the nearest tree for mixing malt whisky with cola.”

“Do you really expect me to care after an emergency landing like this?” Ed said. “It’s organic cola, by the way.”

“Did we crash because of the lightning?” Joy asked while wringing her denim jacket over the bar sink.

“I’m not really sure what happened,” Mike replied pensively. “The storm was a real mother, but the chopper normally doesn’t mind. And then, out of the blue, there suddenly was this light below us.”

“Light?” Joy frowned.

Mike ran his hand across his beard. “The only thing I know is that the engine just stopped without a warning, which forced me to go down. It was as if the rig … well, how shall I put it? As if the rig was responsible for the engine failure.”

“What?” Joy was all ears. “How is this possible?”

“No idea. I’m only telling you how it felt to me.”

“A pilot with ’feelings’.” Ed raised his brows. “This doesn’t bode well.”

“Whatever happened to the SOS call?” Claas asked, walking over to the pool table in the middle of the lounge. “Were you able to reach anyone?” Absently, he rolled a ball into a pocket.

“I really hope so.”

“You hope so?”

“I radioed SOS a couple of times, but nobody answered.”

“Nobody?” Claas asked, looking at his phone. If the screen was to be trusted there was no reception.

“This is almost like the lobby of a hotel.” Joy cast an admiring look at the posh surroundings. There was a bar stocked with an exclusive selection of liquors, several sofas and chairs upholstered in leather, a pool table, and a flat-screen TV displaying a digital fireplace. “A fancy setup like this is pretty unusual for an offshore rig. Might there be other people other than our … well … average working-man working here?”

“It’s really rather odd.” Claas noticed several open beer bottles on the tables. “And where the hell is the crew?”

Steps resounded. Joy held her breath and the others also stared at the door leading toward the residential quarters.

“Hi, everyone,” Liv said, entering. She was toweling her hair. “What’s wrong? You’re looking at me as if I was a ghost.”

“Oh, it’s you!” Tension had made Kim grab for Mike’s arm. “Thank God.”

Joy, too, was relieved. She took a deep breath. “Where the hell have you been?”

“I was only looking around,” Liv said. “The cabins here are just awesome. A bit on the cramped side, but with all the works.”

“Double occupancy?” Rick grinned mischievously.

“Well, in this case there won’t be any question about the sleeping arrangements,” Mike said smugly. “Kim and me, Claas and Liv, Rick and Joy. Only our Eddie here gets an entire suite all to his little lonesome.”

Ed gave the pilot the finger. “Just leave me alone, moron. And you’d better never call me Eddie again, or else.”

“Oh, I’m quaking in my boots.” Mike planted himself in front of Ed, his eyes dramatically widened in mock fear. He knew that he was physically superior to the others. Rick, who was one head shorter than him, but in very good shape, was the only serious opponent.

“Could the two of you please cut this out?” Joy intervened. “Our situation is bad enough as it is, we don’t need any cockfights.”

“You guys can shelve your macho fantasies anyway,” Liv added with a smile. “The cabins are all singles. We’ll have a night of blissful chastity.”

“Fucking hell,” Ed groused. “What’s the use of surviving a helicopter crash, if it means spending the night like monk?”

Kim was silent. For a change she had to agree with Ed, the grouch.

4

The next morning …

On an offshore rig, somewhere in the North Atlantic …

“No ship, no land, just water,” Claas said soberly. He stood next to Joy and Rick in the staff lounge in front of a window, staring out at the Atlantic. The morning sun reflected in water as smooth as a mirror. It was as if yesterday’s storm had never taken place. “We are far out in the ocean. A bloody long distance away from the coast.”

“There’s also no yacht in sight.” Joy sighed.

“They must be looking for us by now,” Rick ventured.

“Nothing seems to upset you. Don’t you ever get worked up about anything?”

“Why should I? I’ve survived a helicopter crash, and now I’m watching the sunrise in the company of an enchanting woman.”

Joy’s cheeks reddened, which made her freckles show even more. She hadn’t used makeup and her hair was sticking up in all directions. “Flattery won’t get you anywhere.” Embarrassed, she turned away.

“Now, the question is,” Claas started, pensively stroking his chin, “what price we’ll have to pay for it.”

“Price?” Joy yawned. It had been a short night, mostly spent tossing and turning. “Haven’t we won a lottery?”

The ghost of a smile moved across Claas’s face. Then, his expression suddenly darkened. “Something’s definitely hinky here. Where the hell is the crew?”

Rick pressed his forehead against the glass, peering down. “How many feet down, do you think?”

“At least 230 to the baseplate,” Claas answered.

“Residential quarters are seriously huge,” Rick said.

“Plenty of space for many workers. But nobody has shown up so far.”

“The cabins were all unused.” Joy hugged herself as if she were cold. “How deep might the water be here?”

“Good question,” Claas said. “Of course, it would depend on where exactly we are.”

“Maybe the people on the rig have left in life boats,” Rick suggested.

Joy eyed the oil tank, the drill derrick, and the pipes that meandered across the rig like the branches of a gigantic vine, seemingly at random. “It’s also possible that the crew is in a meeting.”

“Meeting?” Rick wondered aloud. “What kind of meeting?”

Joy shook her head. “No idea. But they must be somewhere.”

The door opened, allowing Liv to enter. She had applied makeup, painting an elongated line into the corner of her eyes, which made her look like an Egyptian queen. Her Asian features only added to the mysterious impression. “Do you happen to know where Kim is?”

“Who?” asked Claas.

“Her of the great body and the cotton gloves,” Rick explained.

“Oh, her.”

Joy glanced at her watch. “It’s still early. Maybe Kim’s asleep.”

Rick looked over to the bar. “Right. Like our booze-head here.” He pointed at Ed, whose head was resting on top of the bar. He had fallen asleep on his stool, an empty bottle of single malt beside him.

“Maybe Ed knows where Kim is,” Liv said. “Do you think we should wake him?”

“I see what I can do,” Rick replied, giving Ed a shove. “Hey, buddy, everything okay?”

“Go away … leave me alone!” Ed responded with an irritated arm movement, without lifting his head off the bar. “Go away … go away … “

“Got lost trying to find your bunk?” Rick asked, undeterred.

“Bunk?” Ed straightened with a jerk like a puppet on a string. “What?” He drowsily slicked back his gelled hair. His eyes were bloodshot. “Shit, where am I?” He needed a while to get his bearings. “Oh, man, I’m simply too old for heavy-duty drinking like this,” he moaned, rubbing his cramped neck.

“Have you seen Kim?” asked Liv, keeping a safe distance to him.

“Who?”

“Who do you think? Her of the gorgeous bod and the white gloves, of course,” Rick replied with a hint of irony.

Ed burped. Rick turned away disgusted. “Man, you stink of booze.”

Ed tucked in his shirt and stretched. “Why do you ask me? Our launchpad artist’s surely better informed than we are. Kim more or less threw herself at Mike last night. I’d go check the showers at the end of the hall. Maybe they’re in there fucking.”

“Language!” Liv scolded, shaking her head.

“Je vous demande pardon, madame.” Ed massaged his temples. When he tried to laugh, his face contorted with pain, forcing him to close his eyes. “Do you think they happen to have Aspirin on board?”

Rick walked behind the bar and filled the portafilter of the espresso machine with ground coffee. “I’ll better make you a double-shot cappuccino first.”

“But no hearts or flowers in the foam. No way I’m going to put up with hipster crap this early in the morning. Just a nice black coffee. Do you think that’s possible?”

Rick nodded, smiling mildly. “I’m barista, everything’s possible.”

“Kim can’t be with Mike,” Liv said. “He’s upstairs with the helicopter, trying to get the engine started again.”

“Oh, Mike the divine,” Ed scoffed. “Genius at the controls, heart throb, star mechanic. Is there anything this guy can’t do?”

“Here’s an Americano for our morning grouch.” Rick pushed a cup across the bar.

“We really need to look for Kim,” Liv urged.

Ed sipped his coffee. “Wow, this is really good.” He gave a respectful nod in Rick’s direction. “The greatest goddamn coffee I’ve ever had.”

“Kim must still be in her cabin,” Claas suggested.

“Which one did she sleep in?” Liv asked.

“Last one on the left,” Claas answered.

“Could someone … maybe … come along … please?” Nervously, Liv rubbed her ear.

“You’re not scared, are you?” Ed snickered. “Is this real fear?”

“I’d prefer it to be two of us when we knock on her door.”

“I’ll come along,” Rick offered.

Claas nodded. “Me, too. Safety in numbers, so to speak. No way of telling who else might be hanging on this rig.”

“Great.” Ed took a big gulp from his coffee cup. “For me this means peace and quiet, at last.”

“Is this Kim’s cabin?” Liv asked.

“That’s where I saw her walk in yesterday,” Claas said. “Kim! Are you okay?”

“Hello?” Liv rapped a quick tattoo on the door. “Just say that you’re all right. Then we’ll leave you alone.”

“We’re worried,” Rick added in a strident voice.

Claas hammered against the door. “Kim! Goddammit. What’s wrong?”

“Just walk in,” Ed grumbled. Coffee cup in hand, he was sauntering toward Joy, Claas. “You seem to be forgetting that I’ve a headache. You can do anything you want, as long as you quit this hollering.”

“You go first?” Claas asked Liv.

“Why?”

“You’re a … well, a woman … Maybe that’ll make Kim feel more comfortable.”

Liv hesitated. “But if there is … you’ve said yourself that the crew is gone.”

“This is getting ridiculous. I’m starting to feel like I’m back in kindergarten.” Ed pushed past the others. “If Leatherface was prowling the halls with a chainsaw, we’d have met him by now. What a bullshit.” Ed pressed the door-handle down, shoving open the door. “What are you afraid of? The only thing you’ll get to see will be a woman in bed without makeup, her face all pudgy and with mouth odor. After two failed marriages I know what I’m …” Ed suddenly went silent, the cup dropping out of his hand. The scene in front of him chilled him to the bone.

5

35 years earlier.

Germany, Lake Koenigssee, aboard a steamboat …

“Just look at this creep!”

“Yeah, I’m talking to you, shit-face!”

“Do we want to rough him up a bit?”

“Let’s just throw him into the water!”

“Frau Heldmeier, may we give Eddie a swimming lesson? Swim-ming! Swim-ming!” The fifth-year students of Friedrich Wilhelm High, Baunatal, were on a field trip to Bavaria. Soon, they all joined in their ringleader’s chant. They had been traveling aboard the steamer for an hour now. At first they had been fascinated by the breath-taking view of the banks of Lake Koenigssee. Filled with awe, they had gazed at the lush vegetation, the harsh rock formations, and the scenic waterfall. But when the amplified voice of the tour guide launched into haunting tales about people who had drowned in the waters of this 350-feet glacial lake, Armin, the brawniest guy in class, suddenly decided to vent his annoyance, because the classroom beauty had told him last night to take a hike. Therefore, tormenting someone at the bottom of the food chain promised to be a lot of fun. Ed had taken his usual seat next to his teacher, Frau Heldmeier. He was a pale-faced boy and much too short for his age and was also suffering from a harelip, although plastic surgery had helped a lot. To make matters worse, he began to stutter when he got nervous, which happened more or less all the time, because he was hated by almost all of the twenty kids in his class.

“W-w-why are they d-d-doing th-this, F-Frau Heldm-meier?” eleven-year-old Ed stammered which only made the others jeer even louder. “I-I-m m-much w-w-weaker th-than they a-are. W-w-why are they d-d-doing this t-t-to me?”

The teacher, who always tried to take Ed’s side, wasn’t a very charismatic person herself and simply unable to keep the children in check. She put her arm around Ed’s narrow shoulders. “You’ll have to find a way to live with it. Children can be cruel.” Frau Heldmeier gave him a serious look. “In my decades as a teacher I’ve met many students like you. Very smart, but scrawny. Believe me, your time will come. I promise. People like Armin … he won’t have power over you forever. Some day the likes of him will work for people like you. When you’re a grownup the tables will turn. Trust me.”

“But w-w-why is he d-d-doing it?”

“I don’t know.” Frau Heldmeier drew Ed close, whispering into his ear. “But you’ll pay him back in kind eventually. Promise. People like Armin should never be allowed to rule the world.”

“I-I-I don’t u-u-understand w-w-w-what you’re t-t-t-talking a-a-a-bout.”

The teacher grabbed young Ed by the arm. “Don’t let him get away with it,” she hissed. “You have to promise. Are you listening to me?”

An ear-splitting noise startled both of them. The ship shook with an explosion. Fragments of metal were hurtled about like shrapnel. Clouds of black smoke blocked the students’ sight. Moments later the sound of heavy steps could be heard. All eyes turned toward the staircase where a dark figure emerged from the billowing smoke. Ed felt a cold shudder slithering down his spine. The man was making a staggering beeline in his direction as if he were the only person aboard. The man’s forearms had been torn off. Charred pieces of skin flapped from the stumps. The blackened face of the victim of the boiler explosion didn’t reflect horror as much as surprise or even outrage about what had just happened to him. The dying man presented his stumps to Ed and then collapsed. Blood was spurting from his severed arteries like magma from a volcano, coloring the planks a deep red.

35 years later.

An offshore rig in the North Atlantic …

“B-b-b-blood,” Ed stammered. “E-e-e-everywhere is b-b-b-blood.”

“Ed!” Claas hollered. “What’s wrong?”

“Get away from the door, man!” Rick ordered.

“What’s happening?” Joy demanded.

“Sick shit,” Rick answered, as the reality of the scene inside the cabin began to sink in. The white sheet was soaked in blood. Thin red streaks as if painted with a fine brush covered the pillowcase. They seemed to be the imprints of bloody hair. The whole room looked like a crime scene, even though the bed was empty.

“Where’s Kim?” Claas asked confused.

“B-b-b-blood …” Ed remained frozen next to the bed.

“Has she been kidnapped?” Joy nervously chewed her nails.

“Provided, she’s still alive.” Rick picked up a platinum ring from the floor. The inset diamonds were encrusted with blood. Rick couldn’t remember seeing this ring on Kim’s hand. He only recalled her blindingly white gloves. The attacker had left a valuable piece of jewelry behind. This meant he or she wasn’t after money.

“Who would want to do a thing like this to Kim?” Liv wondered.

Claas inspected the door. “Why … why haven’t we heard anything. Judging by the evidence of a fight all over the bed, Kim must have fought back like crazy. I’m sure she screamed. She must have been desperate.”

“And we didn’t do anything to help her.” Rick was ashamed, because he hadn’t been able to come to Kim’s aid.

“Why haven’t we noticed a thing?” Claas muttered pensively. He walked out into the hall, pulling the door shut behind him.

“What’s he up to now?” Liv asked.

Rick shook his head. “No idea.”

The door was opened again. “Why didn’t you come out?”

“What are you talking about?” Joy said.

“I was calling for you,” Claas replied.

“You called?” Liv didn’t understand.

“I was yelling. A couple of times, actually.”

Joy raised her eyebrows. “We didn’t hear you. I swear.”

“You’ve just confirmed my fears,” Claas said. “The cabins are soundproof.”

“Soundproof?” Joy started to feel queasy. How easily she herself could have become the victim of an attack without anyone realizing that something was amiss.

“Look!” Liv pointed at the bedside phone. Next to the keypad a red light was blinking.

“Someone seems to have left a message for us,” Rick said, making a face. The mere idea that this message might be from Kim’s attacker made him ill.

“Let’s listen to the recording.” Claas pressed the PLAY button on the answering machine. They heard a static noise. Next, a deep throaty voice started to speak. “What have we done?” The man sounded desperate and was whispering into the microphone. He coughed. “How did it come to this? How? Again and again I’m racking my brains. There’s no excuse for what we’ve done. We’re guilty. All of us. The others don’t care. They don’t seem to mind at all. But I can’t bear it any longer. How is a sane person supposed to live with so much guilt? You have to be sick to do what we did. Very sick.” The man was breathing heavily. “This place … there’s something here … it’s the … I have to end it.” There was a click like from a round being chambered. “May God save my soul!” The recording ended.

Liv, Claas, and Rick exchanged uncomfortable looks.

“What the hell is this guy talking about?” Rick asked, not trusting his ears.

Liv wiped beads of sweat off her forehead. Her eyeshadow had started to run. “We have to inform Mike.”

“Yes …” Joy nodded absently. “Maybe he has a gun, too. Being the pilot, I mean.”

Resolutely Rick clenched his fists. “We’ll deal with the bastards who did this to Kim.”

“I have to see Mike. Now!” Liv ran from the cabin.

“Wait!” Claas called after her. “We should all stay together!” He followed Liv out into the corridor. But suddenly he stopped. Something had attracted his attention. He studied the floor, knelt, and touched his palm to the carpet.

“What have you found?” Joy asked.

Class traced a track on the carpet with his finger. “Don’t you see?”

“What are you talking about?” Rick said. He was staring at the grid-like ornamental pattern without seeing anything.

“These are drag marks,” Claas declared, looking up. “They lead directly to the staircase.”

Rick frowned. “What do you mean? I don’t see any marks.”

Claas rose, walked to the door to the staircase, and pushed on the handle.

Joy forgot to breathe. “Shouldn’t we better wait for Liv and Mike? You don’t know what’s down there.”

“We can’t lose time,” Claas vehemently protested and opened the door. “If Kim’s still alive, every second counts.”

Ed had stayed behind in the cabin. He was rooted to the spot in front of the bed and stared into space.

The bloodied sheet had triggered traumatic memories of a past he would have preferred never to remember. Ed hadn’t wasted a thought on this fatal day for years. The gruesome incident was buried in the deepest recesses of his memory. Like a dark shadow it had hovered over his life, only to catch up with him 35 years later. Ed’s mind wasn’t aboard the rig any more. He wasn’t a grown man in his forties and a successful programmer at GC Digital, with the beginnings of a beer gut and a beard that served to camouflage his harelip. Ed was a short kid. Much too short for his age. Ed was a scrawny eleven-year-old boy, the cold water of Lake Koenigssee reaching up to his ankles. After the boiler explosion the steamer had listed precariously on its side, threatening to sink any moment. His classmates were screaming in panic. But the only thing Ed heard was a voice he knew so well. “Take this,” his teacher, Frau Heldmeier, said. Someone stepped up to Ed from behind, pulling a life jacket over his head. Ed missed Frau Heldmeier incredibly. There still was so much he wanted to tell her. And finally there was his chance to thank her for everything she had done for him. A gust of foul breath touched his face. Ed felt a cold shudder slithering down his spine, when he turned around. It wasn’t his beloved teacher facing him but the relentless evil presence that had made his school years living hell. “You know why I’m here,” Armin sneered, his voice dripping with disdain. He had the bloated skin of a floater. His eyes were sunk, worms had fed on his lips. Strands of algae clung to his torn clothes. The stink of putrefaction was unbearable. “You know why I’m here, you useless piece of shit. And this time you won’t get away.”

After all these decades Armin had returned. And Ed knew only too well what he wanted.

6

Aboard the offshore rig, in the staircase of the residential quarters …

Claas studied the wall in front of him. The bricks had been haphazardly slapped together, mortar oozing through the cracks here and there. The wall blocking the staircase seemed to have been put up on a short notice. Its red bricks contrasted with the riveted slabs of steel that formed the stairwell’s walls. Someone had spray-painted the number “107” on the wall. Was it a warning? But no matter what, the stairs were closed off, which meant that Kim’s kidnappers must have taken an alternative route. Where did they go? Claas heard a muted gurgling sound, coming from the other side of the wall. His guess was that there must be some kind of water pipe. And there was also another noise. Claas pressed his ear against the bricks and listened closely. It was a human voice, no doubt about it. He held his breath. To him it sounded like a woman sobbing. It had a hollow sound to it as if transmitted by metal piping. Was it Kim? Thumping footsteps on the stairs made Claas raise his head. Someone had followed him down. Only seconds later he felt a draught on his neck. Claas sensed the presence of danger. When he pivoted on his heels he found himself face to face with Mike. The bulky man’s contorted features were a mask of rage. Claas barely had the time to raise his arms to protect himself. Mike swung his pickax in a murderous arch.

Two months ago.

Tijuana, Mexico …

Claas let the phone in his pocket ring. His chosen ringtone was a song by NOFX and he didn’t see any reason to cut off the punk rocker in mid-scream. He decided to just let him vent his fury. Lost in thought, Claas studied the massive fence, marking the border between the US and Mexico. Beyond the fence he could see San Ysidro: perfectly manicured lawns, parking lots crowded with SUVs, and outlet stores where bored tourists were shopping for their third or fourth pair of sneakers. People were living the American dream, out of reach to those who fate had dropped on the wrong side of the fence. A giant Mexican flag cast its shadow across a dried out sewage canal. People had made their homes in dug out caves in its softly slanted banks. Whenever American tourists crossed the bridge, beggars raised their outstretched palms until a few coins rained down on them. The whole scenario was so bizarre that it made Claas think of feeding time in the zoo. The streets on the Mexican side of the border were lined with dozens of little stores claiming to be pharmacies. Dark-skinned beauties with chiseled features and dressed in skimpy nurses’ uniforms were peddling Viagra, their wares stacked on mirrored shelves behind them. How was Claas to turn this scenario into a story that would sell? It was a story of poverty and wealth, being told over and over around the world. The reason was neither color of skin nor ethnic background—the unsmiling men of the US border police who had just permitted Claas to leave the country were the children of Mexican immigrants themselves. It was simply a matter of being privileged or being left behind. There really wasn’t anyone to blame. If you stayed with the truth, at least. In the old days, during the times of gonzo journalism, Claas had assigned the roles of good and evil at will. He had faked interviews and invented people who never existed. The readers had lapped up his so-called investigative reporting, as phony as everything might have been. Reality 2.0, doctored to appeal to the emotions of his audience. Claas pulled the phone from his pocket, took a quick glance at the screen, and reluctantly accepted the call. “What do you want?”

“Where are you?” a familiar voice at the other end of the line asked. It was his former editor in chief in Hamburg.

“Tijuana,” Claas grumbled.

“What are you doing right now?”

“Why would you care?”

“Listen, I’m really sorry about the whole thing. Believe me. I should have called you earlier.”

“You threw me to the wolves, asshole.”

“What was I supposed to do?”

“I only delivered the wares you ordered. Still, you saw it fit to smear my name.”

“It wasn’t quite like this.”

“No?”

“I know it wasn’t fair, but that’s the way our readers are. They just love this drivel. Stereotypes, stories about old white men suppressing some fucking minority. What do you expect? Of course, I wanted articles that catered to it. But I never asked you to make up things. The idea wasn’t for you to spin yarns.”

“I’m going to hang up now.”

“No, wait.”

“What else do you want?”

“What are you doing in Tijuana?”

“I’m on vacation.”

“Bullshit. I know you too well to believe this.”

“I’m working on a story.”

“Who are you working for?”

“Free-lance.”

“What are you doing for money at the moment?”

Claas groaned. “Listen. Why are you really calling me?”

“I know that … that I was wrong back then. But what were we supposed to do?”

“You dropped me like a hot brick. I was used as a scapegoat.”

“Claas, what do you expect? This scandal would have been the end of the paper.”

“So I’m just a collateral, yeah?”

“Anyway, we … well … we owe you something. Sort of. You sacrificed a lot.”

“What do you fucking want?”

“I’ve got something for you. A fantastic story that’ll help you to get back in the game.”

“Help me or help you?”

“And if it might be beneficial for both of us? Would that be the end of the world?”

“I only delivered what you had ordered. And all it did was to get me dumped.”

“Claas, this isn’t getting us anywhere. Let bygones be bygones. Life has to go on. And right in front of our noses there’s the story of the century.”

“Why don’t you shove it over to an intern who’s chomping at the bit to prove himself? You wouldn’t even have to pay him.”

“Impossible. We need you.”

“Bad luck.”

“You have to do it. You owe us something.”

“I owe you something?” Claas repeated with a scornful snicker. “You’re trying to jerk me around, are you?”

“It’s GC.”

“Not interested.”

“Listen, this is your chance to go public again with a properly researched story. You’ll be famous, Claas. You’ll be back! Didn’t you use to like these award ceremonies? This story will win you more than one prize. Something major is going down at Global Companion, mark my words. They’re making an enormous effort to keep this project under wraps.”

“So?”

“They’re building something. A kind of facility. In the middle of the North Atlantic. Nobody has the slightest idea what they’re up to. It’s all very hush-hush. Claas, we need a man on site.”

“And how will I get there? Swim?”

“Now it gets interesting.”

“What do you mean?”

“Do you happen to know what the GC lottery is?”

“Roughly.”

“Once a year GC employees get the chance to win a trip to this huge yacht called Love One. And now listen. One of the winners has contacted us. He wants people to learn the truth about GC. The guy has sold us his ticket.”

“Are you crazy? That was money down the drain. As far as I know these tickets are non-transferable.”

“Not in this case. We just have to play it right.”

“Play it right? What do you mean?”

“Let’s put it like this: that’s when you enter the stage. Goddammit, Claas, the winner of the lottery is your doppelganger.”

“Bullshit.”

“No, trust me. The similarity really is amazing. My first thought was, what’s Claas doing with GC now? Can you imagine? The guy even has the same first name. It’s a godsend.”

“You’re the worst lying asshole I’ve ever met. You could have called me anytime. But now, as you need me, you come begging on your knees.”

“Hate me if you want. No problem. Insult me. Maybe I deserve it. But remember that you’ll do this job for yourself, not for me.”

“I refuse to be at your beck and call any longer.”

“Claas, you can gain back your credibility. You can prove yourself as a real investigative journalist. All you need to do is to board the yacht and to impersonate the winner.”

“Don’t you guys ever think a thing through? Even if we manage to fool GC, the location will be the yacht, not your obscure secret facility.”

“This is exactly the point I’m getting at. The yacht is currently cruising in the North Atlantic before the Scottish coast. And now tell me one thing: doesn’t it look hinky to you that this is exactly the place where GC is shipping tons of material to right now? One thing has to do with the other, trust me. You just have to go. Do you hear me?”

“100,000 euros.”

“What? Are you out of your mind?”

“Want to sleep over it?”

“This is simply ridiculous, Claas. I’m open to reasonable suggestions, but 100,000 euros? Have you gone nuts?”

“That’s my price. Non-negotiable.”

“Aren’t you curious what GC might be plotting out there in the ocean?”

“I’m sure you still have my bank data. I’ll be there as soon as the money arrives. If not, adios is the word.”

“Listen, do you want to know what code name GC has assigned to its undercover project? Claas, you won’t believe it! It’s simply wild, considering what it might possibly mean! We simply need you there.”

“So?”

“Are you with us?”

“First tell me what GC has christened its new baby. Then we’ll see if I’m interested.”

“Sarcophagus! Dammit, Claas, its name is Project Sarcophagus!”

Aboard the offshore rig, inside the staircase of the living quarters …

Claas had ducked as low as he could, trying to protect his head with his hands. A shower of mortar chips poured down on his red mop of curls. Mike drove the pickax into the wall with all he had.

“Hey!” Claas yelled. “Are you crazy?” He shook off his shock, crawled away from the wall, picked himself up, and dusted his clothes. “You could have warned me! I really thought you wanted to clock me.”

Mike ignored him and kept on chiseling at the wall like a madman.

“What’s going on here?” Rick asked, coming down the stairs followed by Joy and Liv.

“Just a moment.” Mike removed a brick that had come loose with the impact of his blows, using the pickax as a lever to enlarge the hole. More bricks clattered to the ground. When he took the next swing, a metallic bang reverberated through the staircase.

“What the hell …?” Mike lowered the pickax.

“What’s this?” Joy wondered, confused. Nervously she moistened her chapped lips with her tongue.

Mike felt the dark surface behind the brick wall. “It’s another wall. This one’s made of metal. Lead, if I’m guessing right. Fuck! Impossible to break with a pickax.”

“Why should anyone put up a double wall in a staircase?” Liv asked. “And why did they use lead?”

An icy shiver ran down Joy’s spine. Who else besides them might be on this rig?

“We need to leave,” Liv mumbled to herself.

Mike shook his head. “Not without Kim.”

“Did you bring any guns?” Rick asked.

“Guns? Are you nuts?” Mike wiped beads of sweat off his temple. “I’m not carrying. This pickax I found next to the helipad is all I have.”

“But aboard the chopper there must be …?”

“Whatever gave you this idea? This isn’t a fucking military operation. The chopper is only equipped with flare guns.”

“We’re in danger, all of us!” Joy said, her eyes wide as saucers.

“There has to be another way down,” Rick insisted. “If we find it, we’ll also find Kim.”

Joy cast a searching look around. “And Claas? Where has he disappeared to?”

“He was right here just now.” Rick turned in the direction of the stairs. “Claas!”

“And speaking of people missing,” Mike added. “Where is Asshole-Ed?”

“He still must be in Kim’s room,” Rick said. “Something has really rattled him. He just stood there … what’s the best way to put it? … like paralyzed.”

“Oh, did he? Has darling Ed finally realized that he’s a schmuck after all?” For a moment Mike’s face brightened, only to grow somber again.

Liv shuddered. “There was blood everywhere in Kim’s cabin. Wild horses couldn’t drag me back there.”

“What are we going to do now?” asked Joy. She sounded

desperate.

Mike ran his hand over the metal surface behind the brick wall. “I’ll get you guys out of here. Afterwards I’ll look for Kim.”

Rick shook his head no. “This rig is enormous. You won’t stand a chance all by yourself.”

“Don’t you worry,” Mike said. “I have a couple of tricks up my sleeve. These motherfuckers better watch out.”

“By the way, did you go see Kim last night?” Joy asked Mike.

He shook his head. “I didn’t enter her cabin, if this was your question.”

“And you haven’t noticed anything weird?”

“I left my cabin to go check on the chopper just after the sun went up. Everything was quiet. As quiet as a grave, pardon my pun.”

“Is there …” Joy swallowed. Her throat started to close up. “Is there a chance that the helicopter … that we …”

“I’m sorry,” Mike interrupted. “I tried everything I could think of. But the engine can’t be fixed. Not without the necessary spare parts at least. We’re stuck here.”

“Just help us to get down somehow,” Rick said. “Out of this tower. Then we’ll grab ourselves a life boat, radio for help, and we’ll be fine.”

Joy’s face mirrored amusement. “Very funny! I would have never thought of it. And how do you plan to actually do it? The stairwell is closed off, remember?”

“No, no, Rick is right.” Mike grinned smugly. “We’ll just have to change our strategy. Sometimes you have to go up to go down.”

Joy frowned. “And what’s this supposed to mean?”

“Come along. I’ll show you.”

At the same time, inside the residential tower, one flight up …

Claas had quietly retraced his steps back to the corridor of the upstairs residential quarters. He planned to explore the rig on his own. Kim’s disappearance may be tragic, he thought, but her possible murder would be an interesting angle to his story. After all, violence was the grain of salt to make readers beg for more. By now Claas was convinced that he had misinterpreted the drag marks before. If Kim’s body hadn’t been hauled down the corridor, there must be another solution to the puzzle. Carefully, Claas opened the door to the broom closet right next to the staircase. The light switch didn’t work. In the shadows Claas was able to make out several mops and buckets. There also was something on the floor, he first wasn’t able to identify. Claas took his phone from his pocket and switched on the torch app. The object turned out to be a bloodied white cotton glove. Kim’s glove. Suddenly, there were footsteps on the stairs. Someone was coming. But the story belonged to Claas and Claas alone. The others didn’t even have an inkling that they had been stranded on GC’s undercover facility. Claas needed to lose them. He stepped into the broom closet. The door closed behind him. A few seconds later people could be heard arguing in the corridor. Mike seemed to want the group to go up to the helipad, while Liv and Joy objected. Only Rick agreed that Mike’s plan made sense. The broom closet turned out to be a great hiding place. Soon the voices died away with only Mike’s strident basso raising over the din, until it also got lost in the distance. Claas’s left hand touched the handle of a broom. At least he thought it was a broom. Utter silence surrounded him. He shined his torch into the corners of the room, until something caught in the cone of light. He flinched. A pair of eyes, half covered by long strands of hair, was staring at him. Claas could hear the beating of his own heart in the deathly quiet. Had he found Kim, at last? Instinctively he took a step back. The light beam of his torch flickered across two more pairs of eyes, left and right of him. When Class shrunk away yet another step, his back touched the door. Claas groped for the handle, but his hand met only air. There was neither a handle, nor a knob, or any other type of lever. Absolutely nothing. The door couldn’t be opened from the inside. Phone pressed to his chest, Claas stood in the dark chamber. His hands were shaking. He was alone with six eyes, staring at him, and a heart beating in his throat.

7

At the heliport …

“Do you think it might work?” Rick peered down into the abyss. He and Mike were standing at the edge of the heliport on top of the residential tower. Liv and Joy were watching them from a safe distance.

“The wall is not completely vertical,” Mike replied. “It has a slight angle to it.”

Rick climbed out onto the safety net that was several feet wider than the platform. When the metal cables holding it tautened, he acknowledged his daredevil feat with a wide grin. “Do you know the Transamerica Pyramid in San Francisco? That’s how the tower somehow looks from up here.”

“Do you think so?”

“Yes. Like a pointed pyramid.”

“Pity there isn’t a ledge or anything like it. No promontory. Absolutely nothing. The windows don’t have any casings either. Smooth like a baby’s ass.”

“Does the Sea Stallion have a winch? Then I could just abseil you.”

“Rick, GC has refitted this chopper as a people mover. Just forget everything you’ve seen in the movies. With this type of Stallion you can neither go to war nor rescue climbers out of a rock face. I just use it to shuttle VIPs from A to B. My usual passengers aren’t even able to cross a road accident-free on a good day. You don’t try any acrobatics with them if you don’t want to get them killed.”

“Okay, okay, I get it.”

“There still has to be a way. It’s a good 230 feet down. That’s a fair chance.” Mike tugged at the fire hose he planned to use to rappel down. He and Rick had linked all fire hoses they’d found on the platform together, tying one end to a cross strut supporting the safety net.

“But’s still risky,” Rick mused. “I also think that I should be the one going down, because I weigh less.” When Rick flexed his left biceps, his T-shirt strained over his muscles.

“No way.” Mike vigorously shook his head. “I got you into this mess, now I’ll get you out of it.”

“What happens after you’re down there?”

“First things first.”

“Bloody hell,” Rick cursed. “There’s no fire escape or anything like it. Only one damn staircase for the entire structure. The guys who designed this thing must have shit for brains.”

“The architect definitely needs a good ass-kicking.”

“At least.”

Mike leaned over to Rick who had crossed his arms behind his head, casually reclining in the safety net. “Can you see this path paved in red? It’s leading toward the building.”

Rick turned over on his stomach and squinted down. “There’s more than just one red path.”

“And they’re all end at the residential tower. The lower floors probably house the rig’s control room. There must be blueprints of this facility somewhere. I’ll look for an alternative route. Maybe we can use a hidden ventilation shaft or so. Once I’ve got it, I’ll find a safe way for you to go down one after the other.”

“Do you think they’re really pumping oil here?” Rick wondered aloud. He studied the drill derrick and the large storage tank right next to the residential tower. “I’m not an expert, but these fire hazard precautions are a joke. The residential tower takes up almost all the space on this platform. And as far as the derrick is concerned … well … it looks like an afterthought. As if the purpose of this rig isn’t pumping oil but something else altogether.”

“And what should that be?”

“No idea. I’m just saying that this isn’t a standard setup.”

“I’m sure they knew what they were doing.”

Rick climbed off the safety net and back onto the platform. He looked up to Mike. “Maybe you’d better try to radio a last SOS from the cockpit before we get going.”

“What are you talking about, Rick? I thought you had my back in this.”

“I do. Still, it’s never a good idea to just gamble one’s life away. Come on, one last try.”

Mike knelt and pulled at the fire hose as hard as he could. “This thing will hold. There won’t be any problem.”

“Just make sure that you won’t let go. We’re talking 230 feet. That’s pretty much of a drop.”

“Don’t you think I have it in me?”

“I’m shorter than you are and I weigh less.”

Mike raised his brows. “Just hold it, will you? I’ve been doing some free-climbing with professionals.” His voice had changed, and he showed Rick his calloused hands. “Don’t you trust these hands?”

Liv and Joy avidly watched the exchange. “Testosterone must be real fun,” Joy sighed.

“Always on the edge,” Liv replied. They laughed.

“The boys need to prove themselves,” Liv added. “One of them is showing off his muscles, the other one’s preening …”

“Followed by some ridiculous challenge game.”

“You’d also rather wait in the staff lounge for something to happen, right?”

“Of course. Just look at this rig. Someone has spent a lot of money on it. Do you really think that nobody ever checks up on things?”

Joy pursed her lips thoughtfully. “Let’s just hope that this checkup will be done by the right person.”

“What do you mean?”

“I was only thinking of the creepy characters that might be hanging here.”

Liv waved her off. “So far we haven’t seen a soul. Maybe there’s a simple answer to all of this. I just can’t imagine that something bad has happened to Kim. What sense would it make? It might be her idea of a sick joke.”

“Let’s hope for the best,” Joy said. She was convinced that the blood in Kim’s cabin was real.

“There must be a logical explanation,” Liv ventured.

“The whole thing seems hinky to me. A rig as large as this one! And according to Mike it isn’t even on the maps.”

“The rig could have come off its moorings and started to drift.”

Joy crossed her arms. “No way! It’s moving on its own. Just look at the water. We are not floating with the current, but … watch the waves … where they go and where we’re going.”

“And this means what?”

“Isn’t it obvious? We’re moving against the current. Very slowly, though.”

“Against the current?” Liv gazed across the glittering water, shielding her eyes against the glare. “Are you sure?”

“Yes. This rig didn’t just come adrift. It’s propelled by a motor and swimming against the ocean current.”

“And who, do you think, is doing the navigating?”

“No idea. I’m only telling you what I see. And what I see is, that we’re not moving with the current.”

“Well … maybe you’re right,” Liv replied with a tentative nod.

Joy smiled. “I used to do birdwatching with my mother for hours. It teaches you to look out for the details.”

“You’re a biologist, you said?”

“Microbiologist, to be exact. My field of research is how to produce biofuels from algae.”

“Weird somehow, isn’t it?”

“What’s weird about it?”

“Well, it’s somehow ironic to discuss sustainable energy aboard an oil rig.”

“We definitely need to find a solution to our energy problem,” Joy answered somberly. “Fossil fuels are the downfall of our planet. My algae cultures … they’re the key if we want to do something about these issues. Believe me. If I just knew of a way to convince our politicians.”

Liv smiled. “Your eyes get all shiny when you’re talking about your work.”

“My research means the world to me.”

“The world?”

“Well, it’s my chance to be part of something bigger. Don’t you understand?”

“Yes, of course I do, but …”

“Who will remain in people’s memories? All the pretty catwalk models or women who contributed something to our future survival.”

“Do you plan to become a modern-day Marie Curie?”

Joy raised her index finger. “Without radiation illness, if you please.”

“And what does your boyfriend think about this?”

Joy waved her off. “No guy is willing to put up with me on a long-term basis.” She met Liv’s eyes. “And what about the men in your life? Is there a significant other?”

Liv shook her head almost imperceptibly. “Men don’t really like strong women. They always claim that they do, but in the end they prefer the docile eyelash-batting type.”

Joy couldn’t suppress a grin. “Us women aren’t any better. No matter how much we insist that we’re looking for Mr. Reliable, we always fall for the naughty guys in the end.”

Liv giggled as carefree as a teenager. She poked Joy playfully in the ribs. “And what do you think of our two guys here? What’s your view on these ’specimens’?” Liv used her fingers to paint quotation marks into the air.

“Well, they’ve both got something. At least in the looks department. But Rick is … well … he didn’t go to college. And Mike I don’t really trust. I’m still not sure what game he’s playing.”

“But both of them are cute in their own ways.”

Joy nodded. “We could have been less lucky.”

“And who’d make the top of your list?”

“Well, Rick seems to be an okay guy.”

“Not Mike? He’d be a better match height-wise.” Joy shook her head. “But he … I don’t know … it is as if he wore a mask.”

“And what do you like about Rick?”

“He’s so open. A real sunny personality. Friendly and positive. Not always brooding. Plus he has a touch of …”

“ … of a rebel?”

Joy waved her off. “Yes. As terrible as it may sound to say it aloud, that’s the way it is.”

“Just take it easy.”

“And what about you?” Joy asked. “Which one of the gentlemen meets the fancy of an enigmatic glamorous Asian lady?”

Liv laughed. “Half-Asian, please.”

“And? Which member of our motley crew is your Mr. Right?”

“You won’t believe me anyway.”

“Speak up, woman.”

“First tell me something else. You’ve just mentioned that Rick didn’t go to college. Is this important to you?”

“Yes, very much. I want a boyfriend with brains. Do you think I’m weird? Most people want a partner who’s their intellectual equal.” Without thinking Joy readjusted her hairpins. Suddenly, she had the unpleasant feeling that she might have come across as elitist and arrogant. “Now, don’t be so shocked. I’m sure you went to school, too.”

“Political science and sociology.”

Joy frowned in surprise. “Really?”

“What did you think?”

“I would have guessed economics or something related.”

“Why?”

“The way you dress. Respectable, but with tons of style and elegance. You’d make the perfect businesswoman.”

“Thank you.”

“You still haven’t answered my question,” Joy continued. “Who is it?”

“Who is what?”

“The guy you like best.”

“Okay, okay, you won’t give up, will you?” Liv took a deep breath. “It’s … well … it’s Ed.”

“Ed?” Joy repeated, not trusting her ears. “We’re talking about the same Ed here, right? Ed, the grouch? Ed, the disgruntled nihilist?”

“Yes …”

“Don’t take it personally, but this guy has serious issues.”

Liv’s smile was defiant. “So what? I happen to be into intellectuals with pot bellies and issues.”

Joy frowned doubtfully. “I don’t know …”

“Ed is a free spirit. He doesn’t care what others might think about him. He ignores conventions. Maybe Ed is the true rebel.”

“In the disguise of a skeptic with mood swings.”

Liv suppressed a laugh and quickly covered her mouth with her hand.

“Could you ladies please come over?” Rick called, waving to Liv and Joy from the edge of the platform. “Mike’s going down now!”

“Oh, our roosters are crowing for attention again.” Liv winked at Joy. “We have to cheer on our boys.”

“Then let’s not make them wait.”

On their way over to Rick Joy didn’t take her eyes off Liv. “Your confession that you have a crush on Ed really gave me food for thought. So far you’ve always kept him at arm’s length. Same as Kim and I did. The guy is a weirdo. I simply don’t understand why you’re attracted to him.”

Liv smiled. “Oh, goodness, I should have kept my mouth shut.”

“Well, aren’t my beauties in a good mood,” Rick said when Liv and Joy joined him at the edge of the platform. “What gives?”

Joy shrugged. “Women’s talk.”

Rick smiled. “That’s all I need to hear.”

“Everything ready to go!” Mike called out.

Liv and Joy didn’t dare approach the ledge any further. Thus, they only heard Mike’s voice and saw the twitching fire hose attached to the cross strut of the safety net, where Mike had started his descent.

“Fear of heights?” Rick asked.

Joy shook her head no. “Common sense.”

“You’ll make it!” Rick called over to Mike. Wistfully he followed him with his eyes, feeling like the fifth wheel on the wagon. It should have been him, being a hero swinging down from the façade.

“How is it going?” Live asked.

“He already made about 60 feet,” Rick said. Despite his foul mood his smile remained in place. “Don’t be afraid to come closer. The safety net will catch you.”

“Give me your hand,” Liv said to Joy. “Together it’s easier.” With baby steps the two women approached the edge of the platform. Joy’s knees were wobbly and as hard as she tried to make light of her anxiety, her hands started to feel clammy.

“You’ll be fine,” Liv encouraged her.

Joy turned her eyes away from Liv, gazing at the ocean. The view calmed her down. The sparkling reflections of light on the water made her blink.

“Watch out!” Rick suddenly yelled. “Holy shit, this can’t be true! Mike!” With widened eyes Rick stared at the wall of fire that had soared up without a warning. A sea of flickering flames was rushing the façade. It was only a matter of seconds until they would reach Mike.

Two months ago.

Amsterdam, Netherlands, Schiphol Airport, flight GC136 to Johannesburg …

“Boarding completed!” The intercom announced that the last passenger had stepped on the plane. Mike relaxed in his comfortable seat aboard the 787-9 Dreamliner. Business class was almost empty. Mike wondered if the recent ethnic riots in Johannesburg had made the other passengers cancel their flights. Well, he didn’t mind a bit of space.

“May I get you another glass of champagne?” the beautiful flight attendant asked with an angelic smile. To Mike the question sounded like a sigh. The flight attendant was a lithe beauty with mocca colored skin, a promise of what her home country had to offer. A perfect blend of the best European and African traits, Mike thought. Sometimes, life seemed to be more of a stereotype than a Hollywood movie could ever be. Mike had noticed the woman’s interest already when boarding the plane. “Would be nice,” he answered with a slight smile. The dark-skinned beauty wasn’t to know yet that he wouldn’t be averse to a little fling. The ten-hour-flight would give him plenty of time to get acquainted. You simply had to love GC’s business class, where stewardesses were exceptionally attractive. They were hand-picked strictly according to their looks despite of GC’s press department’s fervent public denials, extolling the demands and responsibilities of their jobs. Mike took another moment to admire the almost unnoticeable sway of the South African wonderwoman’s hips, as she ambled off to get his champagne. Once she was gone, he pulled a plastic card from his pocket. He gazed at his service ID, feeling satisfied. It came with a lot of power. “Central Intelligence Agency” the cursive said, next to a photo that represented him as Special Field Agent Mike Hofstetter. The background was formed by the three letters known to every child worldwide: C.I.A. Short for the legendary secret service of the United States of America. Mike grinned. When the photo was taken, he had made a special effort to look as goofy as possible—obviously with success. The owner of the ID made the impression of a mental patient on the run, not of someone working for the secret service of the most powerful nation on earth. Mike loved to play hide-and-seek and was a master of deception. There was a job waiting for him in Johannesburg. He had slotted three days for it as usual: one for getting his bearings, one for staking out his prey, and one for the operation itself. It was just routine, something he did dozens of times a year. A consummate professional, Mike always removed himself to another country after he had finished his assignment. He rarely stayed more than three days in one place. However, this was going to change soon. When the job in Johannesburg was done, Mike planned to return stateside to meet his contact in Washington. Something big was going down. He and Bob had arranged a rendezvous in one of the posh cafés near the Convention Center in Mount Vernon Place. Bob would be carrying a laptop computer with a red decal, saying “My Little Pyramid”. Mike had been told that Bob had a complex new job for him that would keep him busy for several weeks. As the last year had been rather boring, he was looking forward to a change.

“Here’s your champagne,” the stewardess announced, setting down the glass on the armrest of his seat. A lascivious smile on her face, she smoothed down her skin-tight uniform. Mike covered his ID with his hand and looked up. “How nice of you,” he drawled.

“Can I get you something else? Anything?” The flight attendant’s smile was coy as if she hoped that her pointed question would elicit an inappropriate answer. “As you can see the plane is almost empty. It doesn’t happen very often, each passenger having a stewardess to himself.”

Mike noticed that the young woman’s cheeks started to take on a rosy glow. The widened capillaries were a dead giveaway despite her dark complexion. The woman moistened her full lips with her tongue.

“Why is it so quiet here?” Mike continued to play the jaded executive.

“Turbulent times in Joburg.” The stewardess’s smile had turned professional.

Mike had to take action to keep the fire burning. It was time to close in on his prey. “I’m Mike, by the way. Why don’t you join me, once we’ve reached cruising altitude?”

“Oh … I’m not sure, if … my name is Jennifer …” The stewardess smiled happily.

Mike crossed his arms behind his head, reclined in his seat, and relaxed. He just loved his job and he was sure that Jennifer felt the same way about hers.

Two months later.

Somewhere in the North Atlantic. On the helipad of the oil rig …

Joy watched Rick whose muscles were coiled for action. When a roar broke free from his throat, the arteries on his neck protruded visibly. This man was just a beauty, Joy thought. The sparkling blue eyes, the expressive face, the dark mop of hair. Joy felt her skin heating up. But no matter how much she would have liked to blame this sudden rise of body temperature on her crush on Rick, this very attractive man wasn’t the reason behind her hot flash. It was the disaster unfolding below her where the gates of hell had opened. A wall of flames was attacking the façade of the residential tower. Meanwhile, the raging fire had gotten hold of Mike, engulfing and devouring him. Smoothly the flames scaled the façade like an indomitable mythical beast. It was the most beautiful and also the most horrible view Joy had ever experienced.

“Duck!” Rick hollered. He grabbed for Joy, dragging her down with him, and protected her with his arm. One moment later the flames swooshed past the helipad and soared up high into the sky, leaving behind a cloud of black smoke.

“Are you okay?” Rick asked Joy with a worried expression.

She nodded. “Where the hell did this fire come from?” She glanced at Liv who was crouching on the ground next to her. Liv raised a thumb, meaning that she also was unhurt.

Rick jumped up. “Hold on, Mike!”

The flames had disappeared as suddenly as they had sprung up. Gingerly, Joy made her way over to the edge of the helipad and looked down into the abyss. The fire-hose was still dangling from the façade—but Mike was gone.

“Oh, my God!” Rick pointed at an unidentifiable little heap, smoldering at the foot of the tower. “Over there! Look!”

“Is this … Mike!” Joy’s hand flew to her mouth in shock.

“Th-th-this isn’t an a-a-a-assessment center, a-after all,” someone stammered behind them. Joy raised her head. Ed had joined them.

Liv was frantically waving her arms. “The helicopter!” The burst of fire had ignited the Sea Stallion, whose fuel-tank threatened to explode any second which would turn the helipad into a flaming inferno.

“We’d better run!” Rick yelled. “Now!”

8

Inside the broom closet in the residential quarters …

The bodies were slowly swaying on their ropes. The broom closet held three corpses, each one with its neck a noose. Two very old men and a middle-aged woman. Their blank eyes were staring into space. The woman wore red lipstick. She looked a lot like Kim. However, it wasn’t Kim. The corners of her mouth were turned up as if she were smiling. Someone must have put a lot of work into staging these bodies. The smell of formalin was in the air. Who were these people? And who had killed them? Under the woman’s feet a shaft led down into the abyss. A ladder was reaching into the darkness. The void had become visible when Claas had pulled at a bar he had mistaken for a broom handle. A trapdoor had sprung open, revealing the secret passage. Claas knelt. The ray of his torch app didn’t reach the bottom of the shaft. His editor had been right, after all. This was the story of the century. Full of secrets and hidden nooks and crannies. Claas shivered in anticipation. His editor had forked over 10,000 euros as an advance payment, the other 90,000 would follow, after Claas had submitted his manuscript. Claas stepped on the ladder, left foot first. What might be waiting for him down there? A good investigative reporter had to take risks. Even to maybe risk his life? For Claas this assignment represented his last chance to get back on board. He slowly started to descend the ladder, rung after rung. An explosion shook the shaft, dust and chunks of metal hit his face. Claas lowered his head, clinging on to the ladder. There was an echoing bang. Something large must have blown up. Claas raised his head. For him there was no going back. The only way open was down, straight into the darkness.

9

In the staff lounge of the rig …

“No can do,” Rick said with a resigned headshake. “This door seems to have gotten stuck.”

“Impossible.” Joy peered through the gap, looking outside. The door to the helipad could only be opened a tiny crack. “Something is blocking it.”

“Why don’t we all throw ourselves against it?” Liv suggested.

“Useless,” Rick replied. “There must be heavy pieces of junk in the way.”

“We could use a crowbar,” Joy said.

Rick nodded. “If we can find one.”

Liv sat on the floor and took a deep breath. The three of them and Ed had barely made it into the staff lounge before the helicopter blew up only seconds later.

“Try to look at the bright side,” Rick said. “We’re still alive, right?”

“T-t-the qu-question b-b-being f-for h-h-h-how long.” Ed walked to the bar and poured himself a whisky. He had lost his stammer for many years. But the blood in Kim’s cabin had triggered childhood memories. There was no way for him to escape the guilt that was weighing him down. He drank his whisky straight even though it normally wasn’t his habit. He just needed the fix to calm his nerves. Ed emptied the glass in one gulp, shook himself, and poured again.

“Oh, no, you were hit after all.” Joy touched Rick’s shoulder tenderly. “Your clothes are all bloody.”

“What?” Rick made a face, gingerly lifting his shirt. Right underneath his right costal arch a pointed piece of metal had broken his skin. Instinctively Rick pressed down on the wound. Blood was oozing between his fingers. A hell of a lot of blood, Rick thought.

Berlin, Germany.

Seven months ago.

“Café Origins”, under the train-track arcades, near the Jacob and Wilhelm Grimm Library of Humboldt University …

Rick added foamed milk to the coffee cup. His movements were smooth and he made a big show of juggling the milk-jug. The result was the silhouette of a white animal, floating in tan milk froth. “A swan for a lovely lady,” Rick said, pushing the cup across the bar. The blonde on the other side threw back her skimpy trenchcoat. Her ample breasts were straining the skin-tight top. The attractive young woman stood on tiptoe, leaning over to Rick as close as she could, while he mimicked the gesture. “I love your dick,” the woman whispered into his ear. “See you later!” She reached for her takeout coffee, walked to the door, and left, not without flashing a seductive smile in Rick’s direction.

“You’re one lucky bastard,” Rick’s co-worker grumbled. He continued to empty the espresso machine’s portafilter.

Rick doubtfully shook his head. “I just hope she doesn’t only love my … you know what …”

“What a hot broad. I can’t believe what I’m seeing. Wow! Her top … did you notice how her nipples … ?”

“Johannes, I really don’t know what to make of Anja.”

“Well, I do. Man, what a hottie … wow …”

“That’s not what I’m talking about.”

“And what is it you be talking about?” Johannes raised his brows in amazement.

“What does Anja want from me?”

“What do you think?”

“Yes, okay, but …”

“How is she in the sack, by the way? Pretty boring, what?” Johannes gave Rick a challenging look. Rick grinned mischievously, but kept his mouth shut. “I just knew it, asshole,” Johannes cursed. “She’s a real hot number, right?”

“And if sex is all she wants from me?” Rick wondered aloud.

Johannes poked his friend in the ribs. “Haven’t you realized that all the men here are green with envy?”

“You’re kidding me, right?”

“Come on, stop playing dumb. How many women did you do in the last twelve months?”

“No idea.”

“Let me jog your memory. More than I’ve had in my entire lifetime. And your info is current.”

“Yeah, ’cause it’s all you ever talk about.”

“Also, yours were all super-hot chicks.”

“You’re actually keeping inventory?” Rick couldn’t believe it.

“I even make bets with the guys. Rick, if you wasn’t such an awfully nice dude I could so hate you. You get all the ladies …”

“Not all of them.”

“Plus, you have unlimited sex with no strings attached.”

“That’s exactly the problem. You know, when girls want to go steady, they prefer the guy sitting next to them in the lecture hall. It’s the son of the rich lawyer who scores in the end. I’m just not the type for a philosophical evening at the fireside. You can’t show me off in nice company.”

“This is crazy! You must be the first stud on earth who wants to get involved.”

“So what?”

Johannes took off his cap, dragged his fingers through his perfectly styled do, and donned the cap again. “Do you have any idea how much money I’ve spent on my tattoos and piercings? And what good did it do me? You see these two sweeties at the corner table, all the way in the back?” Johannes poured ground espresso beans from the mill into the portafilter. “They only have eyes for you. Don’t you deny it. It’s real toxic to work a shift with you. Maybe I’d better turn gay, then I could swoon over you, too.”

“Casual sex really was great at first. But now … I’m not sure … I might be getting old.”

“You’re twenty-five!”

A patron approached the bar. “One latte, please,” the man ordered. He was tall and lanky and seemed to be in his sixties.

“One or two shots?” Johannes asked without looking up.

“One’s enough.”

“Coming right up.”

The man turned to face Rick. “Are you Herr McBride?”

“Who wants to know?”

“I’ve a surprise for you.”

“I hope it’s not a bad one.”

“A surprise is always a good thing.”

“Are you sure?”

“You have won first prize.“

„Says who?“

“Well, I do.”

“And what’s your name?”

“Call me Bob, simply Bob.”

Seven months later.

In the staff lounge on the rig …

Joy covered Rick’s wound with several gauze pads. “Now you press down,” she instructed.

Rick’s face was contorted in pain. “It’s just a scratch.”

“You can stop playing Mr. Macho. Let me help you.” Joy took a spool of adhesive tape from the first-aid kit she had discovered under the bar and used four strips to attach the gauze pads to Rick’s skin.

“It’s really nothing,” he insisted.

“Just let me do it. I don’t want you to get your shirt all bloody.” Joy smiled. “A Bruce-Willis-Macho-Memorial shirt is an absolute no-go for me.”

“In this case I’ll try to bleed less next time,” Rick joked.

“I see, we understand each other.“ Rick’s muscular torso made for a fascinating view. Joy tilted her head back and pursed her lips without realizing what she was doing. “You’re sexy enough as it is.” The flattery came across like criticism.

Rick grinned mischievously. “All those hours in the gym seem to be paying off.”

“Claas and Kim have disappeared,” Liv complained. “And poor Mike is dead.” She was crouching on the floor, covering her head with her hands.

“H-how does this concern us?” Ed asked dismissively. His stuttering slowly turned into a babble. “W-we hardly knew the man.”

“I’ll keep this in mind in case something happens to you,” Joy retorted reproachfully.

“I’ve n-no u-u-use for your crocodile tears, get it?”

“Ed, my man, you’d better stop hitting the sauce.” Rick tried to lighten the mood. “Who knows what else might be in store for us? We have to keep a clear head.”

“That’s exactly my point. J-just think about Mike. He’d probably would have p-preferred ending on the autopsy slab with some booze in his gut.”

Liv stood, walked over to the picture window and looked out. “The door to the helipad is blocked, the window can’t be opened, and the staircase is walled off. How are we going to get out of here?”

Ed screwed the top back on his whisky bottle. For the moment his blood alcohol sufficed to relax his tongue. “One-z-zero-seven.”

“What?” Joy asked. “The number on the brick wall in the stairwell?”

“W-what does 107 mean?” Ed murmured, absently stroking his beard.

“A code?” Rick suggested to no one in particular.

“Consisting of three digits? T-that w-would be simply pathetic.” When he remembered something, Ed raised his brows. “I’ve seen this number b-before. I’m absolutely sure.”

“I think we’d better stick with the voice mail message,” Liv said. “The person was talking about tremendous guilt. What guilt might he be referring to?”

“I’ve got it,” Ed said, snapping his fingers. The others regarded him doubtfully. Ed walked over to the pool table and picked up the black ball.

“And?” Joy wondered aloud. “What are you talking about?”

“J-just take a c-c-close look.” A wide grin on his face, Ed held out the pool ball. Someone had used a Magic Marker to turn the “8” into a “0” and to add the numbers “1” and “7” left and right.

10

Inside the hidden shaft …

Claas’s nostrils still were saturated with the acid stench of formalin. The three people in the broom closet must have been dead for some time when someone put ropes around their necks. They had been positioned over the secret entrance with a purpose in mind. Were they meant to deter? Meanwhile, Claas had reached the bottom rung of the ladder. When he climbed through an opening at hip-level, he found himself emerging from a fireplace in an elegantly appointed living room. Claas looked around himself in surprise. Where was he? The stuffed heads of endangered animals adorned the walls. A lion and a rhino directed their blank eyes at a set table in the middle of the room. At the head of the long oaken table a number of chairs had been knocked over. Someone had carved a message into the leg of one of those chairs:

All Of Us Are Guilty!

A sudden noise startled Claas. It came from the adjoining kitchen and sounded as if a plate had been dropped, shattering on the floor. Claas forgot to breathe. There was somebody here. Two thumping footsteps, followed by a bang. And there it was again: thump, thump, bang. Claas glanced at the bank of doors. A shadow fell on the kitchen tiles. The fireplace was too far away. Claas quickly took cover under the table. Immediately his hands were submerged in a viscous liquid that covered the floor. His fingers were sticky with half-congealed blood. Thump, thump, bang. Meanwhile the carpet muffled the sound. The unsub was in the living room now. Claas cowered under the table like a beaten dog when he noticed something smoothly gliding across the carpet—only to come to an abrupt stop. The banging around the table continued. Claas realized that the unsub had dumped a body on the floor right next to him. A gray pilot’s coverall was visible through the clear plastic foil that shrouded it. “Mike,” Claas whispered aghast.

11

Inside the staff lounge …

“Just use a l-l-little imagination!” Ed stroked his beard, a smug smile on his face. “Let’s follow the trail. Where does the black ball go?”

“Into one of the pockets,” Joy rolled her eyes.

“E-exactly …” When Ed started to search the pockets of the pool table, he struck gold at once. “Well, what did I tell you?” He waved a key. The number on the key-fob was 107.

“Looks like a room-key.” Rick frowned. “107 has to be on the first floor, right?”

“The rooms on this floor aren’t numbered,” Joy retorted. “Why should the ones downstairs be?”

Ed studied the key. “Brass. Therefore, it must belong to a keyhole made of …”

“ … brass,” Liv finished the sentence for him.

“Do you see one anywhere?” Joy asked.

“Over there on the wall there’s a golden plaque with a hole in it,” Rick said. “Directly next to the gents’ restroom. Was this what you meant?”

“What might this thing on the wall be good for?” Liv wondered aloud.

“Let’s find out.” Ed inserted key number 107 into the lock. “A-a perfect f-f-fit.”

Joy moved up a step closer. “Now, I’m really getting curious.”

“Everyone r-r-ready?”

“Come on,” Joy urged. “What are you waiting for, Christmas?”

Ed turned the key. A click resounded—but nothing seemed to be happening. Ed looked around himself in confusion. “Is this supposed to be it?”

“It sounded as if something popped open.” Liv cleared her throat. “Behind the wall.”

“What? In the m-m-en’s crapper?” Ed asked.

Rick pushed open the door to the restroom and gingerly peered around the corner. Next to the sink there was an elevator with open doors. “Can you believe it? An elevator? Here in the bathroom?”

“Funny staff quarters, that’s for sure,” Joy stated, not trusting her eyes. “This is like …” She didn’t finish the sentence.

“Like what?” Rick probed.

“Oh, nothing.”

“Then l-l-let’s go,” Ed said, stepping into the cage.

“You really want to use this thing?” Joy was shaking her head in confusion. “Are you crazy?”

“We’d better stay right where we are,” Liv murmured.

Ed groaned. “W-what are you waiting for? For another one of us to be nabbed tonight?”

“Who’d want to nab one of us?” Liv demanded. “Tell me, who the hell is going to nab one of us?” she repeated, sounding almost hysterical. “There’s nobody here.”

Ed crossed his arms in a gesture of defiance. “You guys do what you want. I-I’m taking this elevator.”

“There’s only one button with an arrow pointing down,” Rick said surprised. “No floor indicator, no emergency call button, nothing. Just this one button with an arrow.”

“T-that’s a good thing, isn’t it? This w-way we don’t h-have to d-decide which one to press.”

“And which floor does this elevator go to?”

“Down, that’s what counts right now,” Ed snarled. “I just want to get away from this f-fucking rig.”

“We need the ground floor,” Rick declared. “If someone shows up to save us, they’ll be coming from downstairs. The platform must be a total mess after the explosion.”

“We … I think we’d better not go all at once,” Liv suggested timidly, chewing her nails. “We could divvy up. Two stay here, two go down. This way the ones who remained upstairs could call back the elevator in case of emergency.”

“Could they now? And which button do you plan on pressing?” Ed sneered.

“This …” Liv searched the elevator’s outer doorjamb. “There’s no call button. This is absurd.” She touched her finger to the corner of her eye, where her Egyptian style makeup had run.

“And what are we supposed to do now?” Joy asked. “Are we staying or leaving?”

“We need to go down, and this means all of us,” Rick insisted. “Safety in numbers and so on.”

Joy nodded. “We have to risk it. Hanging in the staff lounge doesn’t solve anything. We’re absolutely cut off from the rest of the world up here.”

“What about Claas and Kim?” Liv’s voice shook. “Might they still be on this floor? We can’t just leave …”

“You know very well that Claas and Kim aren’t up here any longer.” Rick put a steady hand on Liv’s shoulder. “If we want to find them we’ll have to go down.”

“E-enough talk,” Ed interrupted. “Let’s take a vote. W-who wants to use the elevator?”

Joy and Rick raised their hands simultaneously. After a moment Ed joined them. Just Liv was still wavering. “We won’t be able to return.”

“Come on,” Joy urged. “Together we’ll make it.”

“But down is the only way to go.” Liv sounded worried. “Do you know what this means?”

“L-let’s find out,” Ed said.

“We have to be prepared, though.” Rick pressed his hand to his bandage. His wound was throbbing. “We’d better check out the bar. I wouldn’t mind a couple of knives to defend ourselves.”

“G-good idea,” Ed agreed. “In this case I’ll also get my whisky. Th-this damn stammering simply has to stop.”

12

Inside an elegantly outfitted living room …

The minute-hand of the grandfather clock didn’t budge. The clock seemed to be stuck on the same time: exactly 12:45.

Hands and knees in a pool of blood, Claas was still hiding under the dining table. Next to a corpse, whose face was unrecognizable behind an opaque plastic wrapper. Claas’s first guess was that it must be Mike, even though he couldn’t be sure. Body type and clothing fit that of the pilot. The corpse had been unceremoniously dumped near the table. Claas sensed the presence of another person, but he couldn’t see anyone. In the kitchen the light began to flicker. Claas made his way to an upturned chair and stopped. The unknown presence was very close. Claas could feel it. A little cough, a gurgling of the stomach—eventually he’d give himself away. He really needed to split. 12:45. The hand of the grandfather clock was rooted to the spot as if time had come to a standstill. The prey waited at one end of the table, the predator at the other. Like two animals, bidding their time before the attack. Claas risked a peep over the edge of the chair. The light in the kitchen went off. A short circuit? Or another technical problem? It was now or never! Claas left the safety of the table, crawling across the carpet without looking back. A sudden noise shook him to the core. Then, there was a bang, followed by two thumping footsteps. Claas jumped up and dashed into the kitchen, where a number of objects were dangling from the ceiling. In the dim light he couldn’t make out what they were. Thump, thump, bang. There wasn’t a door in sight. No way out.

Returning to the living room was out of the question. In a corner of the kitchen an odd machine was looming. It looked like an oversized dough-maker. The metal vat under the kneading apparatus was large enough for Claas to hide in. Thump, thump, bang. The footsteps were right behind him. Claas dove into the vat. His hand hit something that felt like a bone. Thump, thump, bang. The light in the kitchen clicked on. How was this possible? Claas’s hand flew to his mouth. He was unable to utter a sound, not even now after having discovered the truth. Adrenaline flooded his bone-weary body, when he realized what kind of hiding-place he had chosen in his despair. It was a meat processor, a contraption used to shred slaughterhouse waste. Claas was prone on top of a mound of shattered bones, dangerously close to a set of razor-sharp rotating blades. A tattoo was recognizable on a flap of skin: it was a dragon, artfully executed in multicolored ink. Obviously someone used this machine to chop up human bodies. This was a nightmare. A glance at the ceiling of this processing room only fueled Claas’s terror. Five people, wrapped in foil like the corpse in the living room, were suspended from meat hooks. There was a bang very close to him on the tiles—someone was battering the vat with a hard object. The relentless blows finally drove his situation home to Claas. The cat-and-mouse game had come to an end. He had walked straight into the trap. On the meat processor a red warning light came to life. The blades slowly started rotating.

13

Aboard the elevator …

“Where are we?” Rick risked a look out of the cage: a short corridor ended at a pair of doors. “We’re not on the ground floor, this much is clear,” Joy said. “The trip was over too quick for that.”

“Damn,” Ed cursed. “W-we went down th-three floors at the most.” Whisky bottle in hand, he hammered against the cage’s only button. But the door of the elevator wouldn’t close. Ed jammed a fist against his mouth to suppress a burp. “Shit.”

“We can’t go any further,” Liz whispered timidly.

“Let’s have a look around,” Joy suggested.

“I’ll stay here and watch the elevator.” Liz interrupted the light barrier with her leg.

“Okay, come on everybody,” Rick pushed open the double doors.

“What the hell …” Ed stared ahead in shock. The room was painted in black and held a coffin illuminated by spotlights. The only decoration was a crucifix on its lid. Muted church music was piped in by overhead speakers. A children’s choir, accompanied by an organ.

“A funeral?” Rick wondered aloud, stepping up closer to the flower arrangements surrounding the coffin.

“Who died?” Joy asked.

“Who do you think? Must be this dude up there.” Ed pointed at the picture on the wall. It was the blown-up portrait of a very old man with sunken cheeks.

“Canceled out,” Joy mumbled. The face of the deceased had been disfigured beyond recognition. His features were covered with a multitude of scratches, obliterating his identity.

Joy shook her head. “Who hated him so much? And why?”

Rick pressed his hand to his throbbing wound. “Do they really have funerals on oil rigs?”

“Oil rig? What a joke,” Ed scoffed. “D-do y-you actually believe that someone’s pumping oil here? In this case you must be more naive than I gave you credit for.”

“There’s a shaft tower and a storage tank,” Rick insisted. “Plus all these pipes. The whole setup looks brand new to me.”

“Maybe th-they o-originally wanted to build an oil rig, but then they changed their mind.” Ed combed back his oily long strands of hair with his fingers. “That’s fucking obvious.” He was glad to be practically stammer-free at last, even though he had to pay a high price for it. He regarded the almost empty whisky bottle in his hand. As much as he’d loved to just hurl it to the ground, it seemed to have become an integral part of his body by now.

“There wasn’t a single knife under the bar,” Rick mused. “Forks, spoons, you name it, but no knives.”

“Someone has emptied the drawers on purpose,” Joy realized.

“There’s only one way to find out who’s inside this coffin,” Rick said.

“Just leave it.” Joy grabbed for Rick’s arm to stop him. “Who knows what might …”

But Rick wouldn’t be deterred. With a fluid movement he yanked open the lid of the coffin.

14

Inside the meat processing room …

When his left foot caught in the blades of the meat processor Claas uttered a blood-curdling scream. Relentlessly, the curtain of knives dug its way through the mound of scraps, intent on turning him into chopped meat. In the last moment he managed to heave his body over the edge of the vat and dropped onto the tiles. He tried to stand, but a searing pain made his knees buckle. One of his shoes was missing. And what about his foot? What had happened to his foot? He needed to get away from this diabolical bone-grinding contraption! As far away as possible. Claas dragged himself across the floor. Under the sink there was a hole in the wall. Was there a way out? In the corner of his eye he noticed a dark shape. Thump, thump, bang. About six feet away from him. Claas tossed a severed arm aside that was blocking his way. Who could be sick enough to slaughter people? Another stab of pain in his leg, it felt like someone had marked him with a branding iron. Get a move on it! Don’t stop! Soon he was able to stick his head into the opening under the sink. He felt grit under his palms. Almost there! With all his strength Claas pushed himself off the tiles with his right foot and threw his body through the beckoning hole. What was wrong with his left foot? Why couldn’t he feel his toes any more? Claas left the blazing light of the kitchen behind him, giving himself up to utter darkness. Light meant death, darkness would save him. He was like a rat, hiding in a hole to escape his merciless enemy.

15

Inside the prayer room …

“There’s not much left of him,” Ed studied the body in the coffin in front of him.

Joy averted her eyes. “What, do you think, happened to his face?”

Ed leaned over the open coffin to examine the body up close. The man’s face had been removed with a single wide cut across the forehead. It reached past his ears down to the chin. His eyes in their sockets were gaping orbs. The facial muscles supporting the jaw looked taut as if the corpse had been treated with an embalming lotion. The long coat was stretched over the dead man which reminded Ed of a bandaged Egyptian mummy. “Did I miss something? Is this a newfangled funeral rite, or what?”

“Might be Voodoo,” Rick ventured.

Joy closed the lid of the coffin. “I think this was enough voyeurism for today.”

“Who would do something like this?” Rick wondered. “And why in the middle of the Atlantic of all places?”

Ed sipped from his whisky bottle. “This is a pretty secluded spot here. Who-whoever is into these occult funeral rites obviously wants to go about them without anyone bothering them.”

“We need to go,” Joy urged. “Let’s get out of here, no matter how.”

Ed dug in his back pocket. “What do you think about giving this a spin?” He produced key number 107.

“You took the key?” Rick exclaimed.

“Well, yes,” Ed mumbled. “Dire experiences when barhopping. Wh-when I have a certain amount of alcohol under my belt, it makes me pocket every key I can get hold of. It’s a definite advantage, just in case I’m facing a locked door later.”

Rick grinned. “Another option would be to leave a spare key with the neighbors.”

“So we’re back to square one.” Joy looked around. “Do you see a brass plate anywhere?”

“No,” Ed replied. “N-nothing. Just the picture of the defaced old man.”

Rick said, “maybe the plate isn’t on the wall but directly under our feet.” He pushed a flower arrangement aside.

Joy shook her head. “Are you sure?”

Rick picked up the next bunch of flowers. “Well, what did I tell you.” He stared at the brass plate inserted into the floor.

“H-how did you know?” Ed wondered.

“I was just guessing.”

“I hope there’re many more guesses where this came from.” When Ed knelt, he noticed that the plate bore an inscription:

Your mask will restore the deceased’s identity.

When Ed turned the key, a grinding and rattling resounded, as if a mechanism was being wound up. “This is getting curiouser and curiouser.” Ed turned the key until it wouldn’t go any further.

“The elevator button is blinking!” Liv called out from the back. “Did you do anything?”

“Don’t know,” Ed murmured. “Must have.”

Nervously, Joy drew her finger across her chapped lips. “Do you see the inscription above the keyhole? What is this supposed to mean?” Anxiously she glanced in the direction of the coffin, the sound having reminded her of a mechanic doll being set in motion. She almost expected the faceless man to rise from his coffin, staring at them with large bared orbs. It was a nightmare come true. Joy took a deep breath. She could not give in to emotions. She was a scientist and therefore a rational person, after all. At least she hoped she was.

“And what shall we do now?” Rick asked.

“What do you think,” Ed said. His knees creaked when he rose. “W-we’ll continue down. Or do you want t-to spend the rest of your life at a funeral?”

16

In the darkness …

Behind him death was lurking. Combat-style, Claas crawled through the gloom, holding his elbows close to his body and ducking his head to avoid bumping it against the ceiling. His getaway-tunnel was claustrophobic and the oppressive air made Claas break out in a sweat. He knew that he was seriously hurt, but he wasn’t in pain. Shock had numbed his mind. Claas didn’t want to lose his foot. He fervently hoped that he’d be allowed to keep it. On and on he worked his way through the darkness. There was no going back. Dying from lack of oxygen was preferable to a retreat into the processing room. In fact, anything was preferable to the fate of the people dangling from the meat hooks. There was absolutely no doubt about it.

17

The descent …

The walls were covered with colorful murals, depicting mythological creatures with friendly smiles. A rotating floor lamp projected stars and half-moons onto the ceiling. The carpet was patterned with a chocolate labyrinth. The cradle in the middle of the nursery was the only piece of furniture around.

“What is this?” Rick asked, stepping out of the elevator that had carried them to the next floor.

“First a funeral and now childbirth,” Ed slurred. “The eternal cycle.”

“So?” Joy said.

“What ’so’?”

“You’re acting as if there was nothing weird going down here. Earth to Ed: We’re in the middle of the Atlantic, just in case you forgot.”

“My dear madam,” Ed replied with some difficulty. “You wouldn’t believe the things I’ve seen. Listen, as long as the goblins and gnomes don’t come hopping off the walls everything’s just fine and dandy.”

“We’re in a good mood today, aren’t we?” Rick laughed.

“You haven’t seen me yet after I’ve popped a couple of pills.”

“Bloody hell!” Joy exploded. “Would it be too much to expect you to contribute something useful instead of getting pickled?”

“Stay cool. The bottle’s almost empty.” Ed burped. “And if you don’t happen to have a stash on you, Lady, rest assured: I’ll stay on the straight and narrow.”

“Did you hear this?” Rick moved over to the cradle, staring at the ceiling. “This song …”

“What are you talking about, dude?” Ed followed him, swaying slightly.

Only now Joy realized that Liv had kept silent the whole time. She had withdrawn into a corner, not uttering a word. “Don’t you want to come along?”

“I’d … rather stay here …” Despondently Liv lowered her eyes. “I’ll guard the door of the elevator.”

“Are you all right?”

“I … well …” Liv took a deep breath. “I’ll tell you later.”

“Fine. We’ll just take a quick look,” Joy said. “Then we’ll talk … okay?”

Liv nodded. “Okay.”

“Empty,” said Ed after peering into the cradle. “Well, it’s probably for the best. With our luck it would only be a zombie baby anyway.”

A musical clock softly tinkled the German lullaby “Maybug Fly”.

“Where’s the music coming from?” Rick asked.

“From the cradle, maybe?” Ed lifted the blanket. “Look at this.” The top sheet had been embroidered with an inscription.

Only those who drop their masks will look truth into the eye.

“What is this supposed to mean?” Rick wondered aloud. “Who’s supposed to drop their masks?”

“I don’t have the faintest idea,” Ed said.

“Those who drop their masks will look truth into the eye,” Joy repeated in a whisper, while staring at the empty cradle. “The mask has to fall … there’s no other solution … it has to fall …”

Three years ago.

Amsterdam, Netherlands, Abortus Kliniek …

“You know it’s a sin.”

“What?”

“And you’ll be sinning for the second time!”

The glare from the ceiling fixture was in Joy’s eyes. “You’re overstepping. This hospital doesn’t belong to a church. You can’t say things like this.”

The nurse sprayed the legs of the gurney with disinfectant. Joy couldn’t make out her face due to the cap and mask. With a feeble movement Joy used her arm to wipe her forehead. The anesthesia started to kick in. “You’re not allowed to say things like this,” she repeated drowsily. “You don’t have the right.”

The nurse leaned in. “Frau Van’t Hoff, God will punish you. You shall burn in hell for your sins! You already took one innocent’s life. And now you’re about to kill another one. Two lost souls that won’t be able to take up residence in their bodies!”

“I … I’ll tell the doctor what you’re doing here,” Joy protested weakly. “You’re not allowed to do this. You simply aren’t. What do you want from me … I’m not a criminal. The law … it’s legal …”

“Child murderess,” the nurse hissed close to her ear.

“I … the abortion … it’s my body,” Joy insisted, her voice faltering. “… my research … I …” The next moment the drug took hold of her. Joy was out.

Three years later.

On the rig in the North Atlantic …

“I just had to do it,” Joy said, reflectively staring into space.

“What did you have to do?” Ed raised his brows, curiously studying Joy. “I don’t seem to be the only one having flashbacks here.”

“Everything okay with you?” Rick asked.

Slowly, Joy surfaced from her catatonic state. “It’s my only choice, I have to carry on.”

“Well, we won’t be getting any further here. What do you think?” Ed pulled the key from his pocket. “Another round, anyone?”

“All we need is to find the next brass plate,” Rick replied.

Ed gazed at the carpet. Its pattern depicted a labyrinth, whose walls were formed by pieces of chocolate, lollipops, and candy canes. “The cradle is smack in the center with the maze surrounding it.”

“What, if it is a gameboard?” With baby-steps Rick followed one of the five paths leading through the labyrinth.

When Ed tried to do the same, he constantly had to sidestep the path in order not to lose his balance. “I don’t know … damn …” He massaged his eyelids. “Where have I just started? Shit!”

Rick had reached the end of the labyrinth. Right behind its exit a black structure had been printed onto the shag. “Is this supposed to be a tower?” Stark and threatening, the slender building contrasted with the rug’s colorful design.

“It looks like an obelisk,” Joy said.

“Obelisk?” Rick frowned. “Like in pharaohs?” He lifted the rug. There was a brass plate in the floor. “I get this real bad feeling in my guts.”

18

In the darkness …

Sand gritted between Claas’s teeth. The dust was choking him and the narrow space made him despair. The tunnel took unexpected turns and, with its sharp edges and stony ledges, had begun to morph into something resembling a rock-fissure. A sound made Claas stop. A bang echoed through the gloom. Claas strained his ears. Again, the bang.

You will not get away!

His pursuer was toying with him. Desperately, Claas continued crawling forward. The tunnel descended, the banging vibrating in his ears. Was this a trap? The tunnel became steeper and steeper. His surroundings had turned oddly slippery and he was sliding downhill. Helplessly, he flailed his hands in the dark. The banging changed into hammering and increased in volume. Claas lost his hold, careening into the abyss without being able to break his fall.

19

The descent …

“What the hell is this?” Ed moved up to the railing. The elevator had stopped on an open-plan floor devoid of outside walls. Rusted iron slabs were randomly scattered around. Water was collecting in puddles.

“This definitely is not an oil rig,” Rick said. A fresh breeze hit his face.

“What else should it be?” Joy asked doubtfully. She readjusted her hairpins automatically.

“This contradicts everything we’ve seen so far,” Liv murmured to herself.

Rick supported himself on the metal tubing that formed the railing. “Now, the truth unveils itself.”

“It all comes down to the question of perspective,” Ed said.

“The rig is nothing but a front.” Rick let his eyes roam across the large scaffolding, protected by tarps. Looking down from the helipad, these weatherproof shrouds had seemed to be storage tanks, meaning parts of the rig. Apparently nothing but a sham. What had looked like a majestic drilling shaft was just a concrete stele with a wide-topped end, anchored to the rig’s base plate. Hundreds of pipes aimlessly crisscrossed the surface, ending in the middle of nowhere without any discernable system. Their only purpose seemed to be to fool watchers from the helipad. The rig resembled the backdrop of a movie set, a Potemkin village consisting of a mere façade. Nothing was meant to hold up to closer inspection. Even the base of the residential tower, their current location—so they thought—was just a hollow shell. The luxury accommodations below the helipad were nothing but a shiny crown put on a rotten tooth. Beneath the surface, all you hit was decay.

20

Entrapped …

His executioner must be nearby. A diabolical presence, bidding its time while terrorizing him with banging noises. Claas wiped the slime off his face. A slippery layer of blood covered his entire body and matted his hair. He had tumbled headon into a vat where the refuse from the processing room was collected. The odor of putrefaction made him gag. A doorless corridor led away from the vat. The first 30 feet of its expanse were bathed in the diffuse glow of fairy lights, the end of the hall being swallowed by darkness. The banging seemed to come from here. Claas was shivering uncontrollably. The viscous mass of guts and innards reached up to his neck. Balancing on one leg, he didn’t dare move. Why hadn’t his pursuer dealt him the deathblow to get it over with? Did he enjoy toying with him like a cat with a mouse before it simply broke its neck with a well-aimed bite? Someone had scratched pictures of devils and demons into the wall with a pointed object. Nightmarish representations of torture and death, all centered around a larger-than-life depiction of a dark figure. It was the shadow of a faceless man, wearing a floor-length overcoat and a hat with a wide brim. Claas took a deep breath. There was only one way out of this hell. And it led straight into the arms of this ogre.

21

The descent …

“The ground floor is right below us!” Rick pressed his face against the bars that made up the barrier. “Just look, the door’s wide open!”

“This isn’t a door, it’s a bulkhead,” Joy corrected him. “But how are we going to get down there? The elevator isn’t going any further, and there isn’t a staircase either.”

Rick rattled at the barrier. “If we remove one of these bars, we could take a jump.”

“Why are we …? Just why … damn …” Ed was mumbling incoherently. He felt nauseous enough to puke. “There is … there must be a logic behind it. Think!” Ed hit his forehead repeatedly. “Why are we here? Just why?”

Rick kicked the barrier with a vengeance. His foot struck out again. “It doesn’t give an inch. Sturdy as hell and anchored in the ground. We’d need a metal saw.”

Ed burped, feeling his mouth filling with acid slosh brought up from his stomach. He swallowed the vomit not to embarrass himself. “Is it really just a freak coincidence that we ended up on this rig?”

“You haven’t forgotten the storm and the crashed chopper, right?” Joy scoffed. “You couldn’t have been wasted enough to miss it.” Her eyes fell on an orange object, half-hidden by scaffolding. Could this be a life boat?

“You don’t understand!” Ed groaned. “I mean, what do all of us have in common?”

“The lottery, of course,” Joy snapped. “What else?”

“Yes and no,” Ed said. “Yes, all of us have won the GC lottery. But what other common traits are there?”

“Why should there be any?” Joy asked. “How many people are working for GC? What could possibly be the common ground for about one hundred million employees?”

“Hey, look at this. There’s a button on the wall.” When Liv failed to attract the attention of the others, she just pressed it.

“We all have one-syllable names,” Rick ventured.

“What?” Joy laughed. “You seriously think this is the answer?”

Ed cleared his throat. Stomach acid was burning in his gullet. “Haven’t you ever wondered, if the crash might have been part of a plan?”

“Welcome to la-la land! And that’s why our unsub simply unleashed a major storm?” Joy’s smile was sardonic. “No idea if Poseidon is also in charge of the North Atlantic. I rather would have assumed his comfort-zone to be in the Mediterranean.”

“Stop being so damn condescending, Ms Wisegirl,” Ed shot back. “I wasn’t talking about divine intervention. Let’s just say that this unknown person knows exactly how to fit a storm into their plans.”

“I wasn’t condescending at all,” Joy pouted.

“But who could possibly want to do such a thing?” Rick asked.

“I don’t know either,” Ed admitted. “Still, someone who’s able to build such a structure must have access to resources.”

“Did you hear this?” Rick was startled by a noise. “What is it?”

“What are you talking about?” Joy raised her brows. “I don’t hear anything.”

“Just listen! It hums … and then there’s a sound like something’s … dragged across the floor …” Rick started pacing, all the while staring at the ground as if hoping for an inspiration from there. “An elevator’s coming up. Yes … that’s what it sounds like. It has to be an elevator.”

“I pressed this button over there,” Liv said. “Maybe this had something to do with it.”

“What did you do?” Rick demanded.

“There’s a button on the wall,” Liv repeated. “No idea what it’s good for, but I thought that …”

“Listen,” Rick interrupted. Behind Liv, the wall opened. The door of the elevator perfectly blended into the riveted metal slabs that made up the wall. Liv turned. A shadowy figure emerged from the unlit cage. The vague silhouette of a human shape with a void instead of a face, all bathed in gloom. Liv raised her head when she noticed the towering figure. Next, a stick swooped down on her, catching her cheek, cutting deep into her arm, and severing the leg of her pants. The weapon was made from wood, but still as sharp as a blade.

“No!” Rick screamed. When he rushed the stranger, the end of the stick slammed into his abdomen. Rick’s knees buckled. A second swipe almost shattered his collarbone. The shadow melted into the gloom. The door of the elevator slid shut and the cage started to descend. Rick jumped up, his face distorted with pain. His fists pummeled the call-button. “I’ll get you, bastard!” He gasped for air, the blow to his abdomen taking its toll. “I’ll … get … you …”

Ed and Joy just stood there, feeling dazed. They simply stared when Liv crumpled to the ground.

22

Entrapped …

The monotonous banging grated on Claas’s nerves. The relentless noise inside the darkened hall seemed to have gone on forever. Claas just wanted it to stop. But this wasn’t a movie, where you could cover your eyes until the scary part was over. It was real. Claas lifted himself out of the vat. A slimy layer of innards and tripes covered him from head to toe. He felt like a reptile emerging from a sewer, when he took inventory of his body. His left foot was badly swollen. The blades of the meat processor had caused a lot of damage. A deep cut ran from his ankle up to his calf. The wound had to be cleaned. Plus, he needed antibiotics if he didn’t want to come down with gangrene. Claas belly-crawled down the hall. The picture of the shadow-man on the wall hovered like a childhood nightmare that had finally come true. There was no other way to go. What choices did he have? To wait for his foot to rot off? The banging came closer. In the gloom Claas could make out a circular saw, the saw blade smeared with blood. White globs of brain matter stuck to its teeth. But Claas just had eyes for the sledgehammer that shot up only to come down on a wooden slab. Again and again in mind-numbing monotony. So, the source of the noise was not a human being after all, but a makeshift apparatus. Only a machine! The executioner had fooled him the entire time.

Claas picked himself up and hopped along the hall on one foot, the fear that had made him cower suddenly gone. He saw a door in about 30 feet distance. His hopes soared. He wasn’t as seriously injured as he had feared. He would keep his foot. Two weeks in the hospital, surgery, and extensive rehab. Maybe there would even be a bedside-reconciliation with Anja. Once his ex-girlfriend learned that he had risked his life researching a story, she’d come back to him. He was absolutely convinced. Anja would have no reason to be ashamed of him any longer. Everything pointed in the direction that GC was using this secret platform to illegally dispose of nuclear waste. What other reason could there be to secure the staircase with slabs of lead? Claas was one of the good guys not a pathological liar, neither professionally nor in his personal life. Now, Anja could see it for herself. Claas pictured himself attending the awards-ceremony on crutches. A reformed man in a broken body. Oh, yes! Reformed! He had paid dearly for his mistakes. It would be his own true story he’d present to the public, not some fabricated account of other people’s woes. Suddenly, Claas froze, his castle in Spain collapsing like a house of cards. The door handle started moving even though he hadn’t touched it. Slowly the door creaked open. There was a movement in the darkness. Claas felt the presence of a stranger. He might have left the banging behind, but the devil was still lurking right ahead.

23

Twelve years ago.

Singapore, Suntec City.

Office of the UNHCR, Section Southeast Asia …

Rain pelted the glass façade of the highrise in Suntec City’s commercial center. Monsoon-like deluges like this were typical for Singapore. The rain wouldn’t bring cooler temperatures, though. Liv sat at her desk on the 45th floor, staring at the AC vents. The UNHCR’s offices were kept at a steady 66 degrees, while outside temperatures were a humid 86 all year around. Those who lived in Singapore knew that this city state so conveniently located on the map would have never become one of the world’s most prominent financial centers without the blessings of modern climate control technology.

Life in Singapore was subject to rigid rules. The entire country was as squeaky-clean as an amusement park. Owing to the generous use of insecticides, it also was virtually bug-free. While diseases like malaria were a constant presence in other tropical countries, in Singapore they simply didn’t exist. Liv enjoyed the well-planned artificiality on this little island, where people and nature were both kept at bay. She loved the humidity outside, as long as she had the option to escape whenever she wanted to. And she was happy with her job at UNHCR. But what pleased Liv most was the fact that Singapore was far away from Berlin. She’d finally found peace here. Being half Asian, half European made her part of the courted Western elite, while also being accepted by wealthy Chinese businessmen. Plus, working for UNHCR came with the benefit of being able to make a difference to the poor and needy. Liv was able to help people, regardless of skin color, background, or religion—not to forget income. It was something that gave her life a purpose.

“You want to come along to Sentosa later?” An attractive woman in her thirties wearing a pantsuit walked into her office without knocking.

“To the beach?” Liv asked. “Today, you mean?”

“We’ll take the cable car,” the woman said.

“I don’t know, May. Tonight they’ll have a barbecue on the roof garden. I really do love the view at night. All the city lights, the sparkle, the wide perspective, plus the sultry night.”

“You really are a dreamer.” May laughed. “I’ve different views on offer. Phil and John are also coming.”

“Phil? Our resident Hulk?” Liv lifted her brows, giving May an amused look.

“His body is fantastic.” May moistened her lips with her tongue. “A guy made in heaven.”

“And you want me to entertain John in the meantime, am I right?”

May folded her hands in mock-prayer. “Oh, please, can you do it? You simply have to say yes.”

“You’re asking a lot from me, you know?” Liv said with a vague smile.

“I’ll owe you.”

“I’m not really wild about it. The last time we met, John gave me a two-hour lecture on how to process drinking water in war zones. He really supplied a lot of details. Technical details. The only thing missing was him donning a hard hat and bringing out the blueprints.”

“Come on, John’s not that bad.” May poked her friend in the ribs playfully. “Don’t you forget that it was me who sent this nutcase packing the other day. He was scary. I was really weirded out.”

“Don’t remind me. My parents have contracted him to shadow me.” Nervously Liv drummed on the desk with her nails. “They simply continue to interfere with my life and don’t seem to get it that I’m not a child any more.”

“Don’t be too hard on them. People living in the slums would be happy to have been born into a stinking rich family like yours.”

“If life could just always be as easy as it is in Singapore.”

“The world isn’t an amusement park.”

“Wealth … all those assets … the demands that come with them … family traditions. It’s a huge burden sometimes.”

May stood behind Liv, put an arm around her shoulder, and leaned in. “You have your own life,” she whispered into her ear. “But your parents will always try to protect you. Don’t forget who they are.”

Liv petted May’s arm. “I promise, I won’t. However, all these obligations …”

“Come on, let’s go to the beach later. It’ll take your mind off things.”

The phone rang. “I don’t know …” Liv picked up the receiver.

“A visitor for you,” the receptionist announced.

“Who is it?”

“A certain Herr Bernhard Otto Blucher. Are you available?”

Liv lowered the receiver with a groan, covering the mouthpiece with her palm. “Blucher again. My parents just won’t leave me alone.”

“What? The creep we’ve just been talking about?”

“Yes, him.” Liv took a deep breath. “And what am I to do now?”

“Okay, sweetie,” May said. “I’ve the following suggestion to make: I’ll get rid of the guy and you’ll come along to the beach.”

A little smile lit up Liv’s face. “Anything you want, if you’ll keep this Blucher guy off my back.”

“Oh, thank you!” May kissed Liv’s cheek.

“I hope Phil’s body’s worth the trouble.”

May giggled. “Of course it is, darling, of course.”

Twelve years later.

On a secret rig, somewhere in the North Atlantic …

“The wound’s bleeding like crazy, dammit.”

“Looks horrible, too. The stick went straight through her cheek.”

“Shut up. She’s coming to.”

Liv opened her eyes.

“Are you okay?” Joy smiled.

“What happened?” Liv asked drowsily.

“The gates of hell have opened,” Ed grimly joked, referring to the camouflaged door of the elevator.

Rick pressed two tissues against Liv’s bleeding cheek. “Somebody attacked you.”

“Who the hell was this creature in the elevator?” Joy tore up the left sleeve of her shirt to bandage the cut on Liv’s forearm.

“What happened to my …” When Liv tried to touch her cheek, Rick restrained her hand. “Does it hurt a lot?” he asked.

“No, not at all.” Liv noticed Rick’s worried expression. “Looks pretty bad, right?”

Rick’s smile was full of compassion. “You’re being very brave.”

“How did I … why am I on the floor? I don’t remember anything.”

“You passed out.”

“We need to find a first-aid kit,” Joy said.

Rick flinched when she touched his shoulder to bring the urgency home.

“What’s wrong?” she demanded.

“It’s my collarbone. I think it took quite a blow.”

“Are you hurt anywhere else?”

Rick lifted his shirt. A bruise the size of a fist bloomed right above his navel.

“Liv has cuts, while you’ve been bludgeoned with a blunt object. How does this go together?” Joy wondered.

“Did you see the attacker?” Ed asked. “I mean, have you recognized anything about him?”

“Everything happened so fast.” Liv touched her forehead as if to check her temperature. “Something exploded out of the darkness …”

“Something?” Ed repeated. “What do you mean?”

“The elevator!” Rick called out. “Hell, the elevator’s coming back.”

“Shit! We’re sitting ducks here.” Ed wiped his mouth. “What are we going to do now?”

“What do you think?” Rick answered with a grim smile. “Now, we’ll make this bastard pay.”

“Are you nuts? We need to run!”

“Without me! I’ll teach him a lesson.“ When the elevator opened, Rick stormed in.

“Why does he always have to be a hero?” After a moment of hesitation Ed ran after Rick.

“What’s going on?” Joy couldn’t make out what was happening inside the elevator cage. She was kneeling on the ground, attending to Liv’s bleeding cheek. “Goddammit, answer me!”

“There’s a large keyboard,” Rick replied.

“Keyboard?” Joy repeated nervously. “And the guy? What happened to the guy?”

“There’s no one here.” Rick blocked the door of the elevator with his foot. “The tower has another dozens of floors. They are … I’m not sure either … they must all be below water-level.”

“Below water-level?” Joy repeated doubtfully. “How can this be possible?”

Rick glanced at the keyboard inside the cage. “I don’t have an explanation either, but this place reaches deep down. The tower we’re in … actually we don’t know anything about it.”

“Quite right, dammit. We’ve only seen the tip of the iceberg so far, the part that’s sticking out of the water.” Ed stepped from the cage, smoothing the hair on the back of his head. “Truth is that we’ve made an emergency landing on a giant underwater structure.” He pulled the key out of his pocket, studying the fob. “107. Hell, this isn’t a room number. We’ve been wrong all along. It refers to the number of floors. There are exactly 107 more floors below us!”

24

Entrapped …

The rhythm of the sledge hammer was disrupted by a discordant sound. A second banging noise, accompanied by thudding footsteps. Claas knew only too well what this meant. The threat was coming closer again. Balancing on one leg, Claas supported himself against the wall. Banging, thudding, thumping, all these sounds merged into a deafening chorus. Claas only had a few seconds left. He desperately checked out his surroundings. On the wall there was a metal bracket he hadn’t noticed before. The bracket was attached to a hatch. Claas pulled it. A hole opened in front of him. Headfirst, he climbed onto a metal scoop that was lowered as soon as the hatch slammed shut. Claas tumbled into the abyss like garbage tossed down a disposal chute.

25

The descent …

Ed peered from the elevator cage. “Is this the ground floor?”

“Let’s hope so.” Rick looked around the room they had been deposited in by the elevator. The walls were lined with shelves that held devices, replete with switches, buttons, and greenish glowing displays. Electric wires and cables for transmitting data dangled from the ceiling as if assembled in a haste. The pictures of security cameras flickered across flat screens. They could see the helipad with the wrecked chopper, other shots showed the staff lounge from various angles.

“What’s all this supposed to be?” Ed slicked back his stringy hair.

“The center of operations,” Rick said. “Like Mike suspected.”

Joy shook her head, not trusting her ears. “Oh, my God, somebody’s been watching us all the time.”

“Look, what we’ve got here.” Rick switched on a two-way radio. “Can anybody hear me?” He depressed the call button and spoke into the mike. “We’ve been crashed with our chopper. Can anyone hear me?”

Liv sat on a stool. Blood was dripping down her cheek. The cut was about three inches long.

“There’s a first-aid kit on the wall,” Joy said.

“I’m much better already.” Liv gave a pained smile. Her pale skin had taken on a china-like quality. “I just need to rest a little.”

There were two bulkheads in the wall across the elevator. One said EXIT, the other one DOWN in sprayed-on letters. Ed pointed at the EXIT bulkhead. “Let’s split. This fucking place’s starting to get at me.”

A gust of static burst from the radio’s speakers. “You think that someone can hear us?” Rick strained his ears. “I’ll try again.” He depressed the call button. “SOS! We need help! We’ve been crashed over the Atlantic, about 70 miles off the Scottish coast. Exact position unknown. We’ve been stranded on a structure that looks like an oil rig. SOS! Can anybody hear us? We’ve been crashed!”

Ed stepped up to the EXIT bulkhead. “We need to leave now!”

“Hold it for a moment,” Rick said. “Maybe someone’ll answer.”

“Lean your head over sideways, please.” Joy covered Liv’s cheek with a number of gauze pads and stretched a net bandage over her chin. “Not very stylish, but it’ll do.”

“Thanks.”

“And now we’ll take a look at your arm.”

“SOS! We need help! Is there anybody out there?” Rick released the call button.

“I need to know if this is a way out!” Ed pushed open the EXIT bulkhead. The next moment a siren began screaming. The tower shuddered with a number of blows. They sounded like a series of staccato explosions. Ed ran from the operations center.

Joy pulled Liv off the stool. “Something terrible must have happened.”

The outside bulkhead was wide open. Ed had a clear view of the ocean. An orange life boat hovered on a ramp, ready to go. It seemed to be a free-fall life boat, like they were in use aboard oil tankers. “Over here!” Ed hurried to the exit without looking back. The ground started to vibrate. The scaffolding meant to disguise the structure as a rig collapsed into itself. Just a narrow path leading to the life boat remained free. “What the hell …” Ed looked down in confusion. His shoes were wet. The tower was shaken by another number of explosions. Ed lost his balance and fell. A torrent of frigid sea water slapped his face. He clung to the outside bulkhead for dear life. The next wave was even more powerful than the first one, water rushing the tower with a vengeance. Ed was carried along with the current. He drifted back toward the operations center, a vortex tumbling him around like in a dryer. The back of his head slammed into the EXIT bulkhead.

When the fuses blew, the static from the speakers came to a sudden stop. The water inside the operations center came up to more than three feet now. Liv and Joy had taken shelter behind the DOWN bulkhead. The incoming water didn’t only made it impossible to close the EXIT bulkhead but also stopped them from opening the one saying DOWN. “Water pressure’s too high!” Rick yelled.

“Let’s try doing it together,” he heard Joy’s muffled voice from the other side of the bulkhead. “You pull, I push! One-two-three …”

“Not a chance!” Rick moved the bulkhead’s lever to CLOSE to engage the latch.

“What are you doing?” Joy called out.

“Just start walking!”

“And what about you?”

“I’ll look for another way out!” Rick glanced over to the elevator. “Shit … it shouldn’t have …” He heard something crashing against the EXIT bulkhead. When he looked up, he saw an unconscious Ed floating in the water. Rick made a grab for him and held his head above the surface.

“What’s this …?” Ed came to.

“Stand up!”

“What?” Ed asked in a daze.

Rick dragged Ed into the elevator. “On your feet, dammit!”

Ed touched a laceration on the back of his head. Meanwhile, the water had reached his neck and he still didn’t understand what was happening. “What’s going on?”

“Help me! Hurry up!”

“What?”

“We have to escape through the hatch! Move it!”

When Ed gave him a leg-up, Rick lunged, unlatched the ceiling hatch, and climbed on top of the cage. “Come on!” Rick pulled Ed up to the roof of the cage.

“I … had almost made it outside,” Ed gasped. “I almost would have gotten away.”

“Man, that was close,” Rick said. Sea water oozed through the hatch, pouring down into the elevator shaft.

Ed climbed the rungs of the service ladder. The mere idea of the hundreds of feet of elevator shaft below him made his knees wobble. “Damn, I’d almost made it outside.” His voice was muffled by the shaft.

“There’s no way out up there! Don’t you remember the iron bars?” Rick started to descend the ladder. “We need to go down.”

“Have you lost your mind?” Ed screamed at him. “This fucking place is sinking!”

“I see a light down there. There has to be an open door to the elevator somewhere.”

“Down there? Have you gone totally nuts now? We’ll drown miserably.”

Water cascaded down the walls of the shaft. “We need to go down!” Rick insisted and continued on.

“Idiot!” Ed stubbornly stuck to his course. “We have to go up! This tower and everything here …” When Ed reached the next floor, he suddenly fell silent. Water was spurting through the cracks in the closed elevator door.

“Come on down!” Rick called. “There’s an exit!”

Ed clung on to the ladder like frozen. There were only a few moments left until the door would succumb to the pressure. “W-we a-are s-s-sinking,” he stammered. “Oh, my God, we’re sinking in the Atlantic!”

26

Entrapped …

When Claas came to, he found himself amid discarded mattresses, torn seat cushions, and busted garbage bags. Putrefaction assaulted his nostrils. His way down the chute had taken several seconds, before he had hit the mound of garbage and passed out on impact. Where was he? Claus felt like trapped in a never ending nightmare. His eyes fell on a row of lockers and a number of massage tables and benches. Had he ended up in a locker room? How was this possible? The different rooms in this place seemed to be randomly thrown together. There was no system behind it. Who had contracted out to build such a thing? And why? A sound startled him. His head snapped around. Water dripped on the tiles and created an echo. There had to be a shower behind these lockers. Claas sat on a bench and took a deep breath. His legs, his arms, his back, yes, his entire body hurt. His injured foot had turned blue and was bloated. At least the cut had stopped bleeding. There was an object under the bench. A walking stick, the handle crowned by a gilded eagle. An icy shiver ran down his spine. At the end of the cane four rows of razor blades had been inlayed into the wood. They were coated with blood, hairs, and skin fragments. This cane wasn’t really a walking-aid, it was a lethal weapon. Claas was sure that it had also been used to create the banging that had chased him into the processing room’s garbage chute. He heard a rustle that sounded like something being crumpled. There was someone in the shower. Next, there were two thuds, however, he couldn’t hear a bang. Claas knew the reason why. The cane under the bench belonged to his foe who relentlessly hunted him down. Claas desperately needed a place to hide. The padlock of one of the lockers hadn’t engaged. He cautiously opened the door, but the hinges still creaked. The locker was empty. He squeezed himself inside. Again, thudding footsteps. Claas pulled the door shut and peered through the slats. He couldn’t make out a soul. Nothing seemed to be moving. The thudding got closer. Claas held his breath. A shadow fell on the floor. It was identical with the silhouette scratched into the wall above the garbage vat. A figure clad in a long overcoat and a wide-brimmed hat. When the shadow kept on moving, Claas for the first time was able to see its owner. His face was shrouded in darkness. The huge figure wore clumsy shoes. Orthopedic shoes, as if his feet were crippled. The man grabbed for the cane and slammed it into the ground with a violent gesture. The sound made Claas shudder. Four thuds and two bangs later the man came to a stop in front of Claas’s locker. Despite his tottering walk he just exuded power. Next, his face lit up in a blinding glare as if someone had switched on a spotlight. Black dots intermingled with the strobing and arranged themselves in the perfect symmetry of a Rorschach test. The dots kept on changing. They flared up and formed diffuse patterns, only to vanish again. After a while the image changed. Gradually, the dots crowded out the light in a face that really wasn’t a face at all. When the last dot of light flickered out, the faceless man yanked open the door of the locker.

27

35 years ago.

Germany, Lake Koenigssee …

Ed took off the inflatable vest that had saved his life and tossed it down on the gravel. Dripping water from head to toe, he was standing at the bank of Lake Koenigssee. Silence had settled all around him. The children’s screams had died down. Ed looked at the body that had been washed ashore. Frau Heldmeier was staring up at him with open eyes. Ed had tried his best to reanimate his teacher by giving her CPR. Her skin was as cold as the water of Lake Koenigssee, her lips had taken on a blueish tinge. Frau Heldmeier had saved Ed’s life by pulling the life jacket over his head. Therefore he had made it while she was dead. A groan yanked Ed back to the present. A good 30 feet away a boy had been washed ashore belly-down. His head was twisted sideways, his legs were drifting in the current. His torso rested heavily on the gravel. Wavelets carried up his body, only to pull him back into the water in a deadly dance. With each time the boy instinctively coughed up water. He seemed to be too exhausted to move, let alone stand on his feet. It must have taken his last ounce of strength to drag himself ashore. Armin was all alone. His cronies had either drowned or reached safe ground somewhere else. It was a remote part of Lake Koenigssee and difficult to access. It would take forever for the rescue team to arrive. Not a soul around to save Armin. No one but Ed. Ed walked over to his tormentor. He still was wary of him. Armin might just be faking to be out of it after all. For a while Ed kept his distance, watching the enemy, just in case. A wave washed over the gravel. Again, Armin coughed up water. Had he really passed out? Ed became more daring, tentatively setting down a foot right next to Armin’s head, only to withdraw it in fear at once. Many years worth of memories had left their scars. Ed had always been at the receiving end of his classmates’ bullying. And Armin was the worst one of them all. He didn’t have a cleft lip, of course, but even features and an athletic build. But no matter how much Armin had going for him, it was never enough. He was hell-bent on robbing Ed of the few things he still had left. Why? A gentle wave gurgled over the gravel. Armin coughed again. How long would his body continue to fight death by drowning? How long until even an alpha male like Armin had to succumb to forces stronger than him? Maybe the time had come to put it to a test. Ed stood at the bank of Lake Koenigssee, waiting for the next almost imperceptible wave from this glacial lake. Ed, the scrawny boy who never was chosen for a team in PE but had to be assigned to one by the teacher. He had all the time in the world.

35 years later. On a secret rig in the North Atlantic …

“You’re not like Armin.” Ed touched his index finger to the mustache that camouflaged the scar left by his harelip. Water was dripping from his clothes. Like back then, 35 years ago, when he had made it to the shore after the steamer had sunk.

“What?”

“You waited.”

Rick smiled. “Of course I did. We’re friends, right? Who the hell is Armin?”

“Well, j-just a ghost from the past.”

“Are you okay?”

“People like Armin can’t have power in this world.”

“No idea what you’re talking about.”

“I … it …”

“Let’s hurry up, the water’ll be here soon.”

“ … these were Frau Heldmeier’s last words. Her l-legacy to me.”

“We need to get to the bulkhead over there!”

“What?”

“To the bulkhead, come on!”

“No, we’d better turn back. To the elevator shaft.”

“Out of the question! This is the way to go!”

“This is totally crazy! Could you please explain to me why it makes sense to run below deck, when on a sinking ship?”

“What else can we do? It’s our only choice.”

“We’ll die down there.”

“There must be a solution.”

“What do you mean?”

“They have to have wetsuits and diving equipment and stuff.”

“Wetsuits?”

“This rig has sprung quite a number of surprises on us so far. As you surely have noticed.” Rick pushed open the bulkhead.

“Ain’t this the truth.” The view in front of him made Ed shake his head. It was a huge open hall with a silvery sparkling pyramid in its middle. He guessed that must have been about 100 feet high. The pyramid was surrounded by a moat and had a statue on top.

“What’s that?” Rick asked.

“A submarine?”

“Shaped like a pyramid?”

“Why not?”

“Just look at the statue. I do think this thing is a submarine base.” Rick pointed at a catwalk leading to the pyramid. “Look.”

The screeching of a siren made Ed flinch. “Damn, this sounds like bad news!” The siren howled a second time. The waves gently lapping against the pyramid were churned up. The water was rising.

“The hall is being flooded.”

“What are we going to do now?” Ed asked.

“Across the catwalk and into the pyramid, move it!” Rick hollered.

“Are you nuts?”

“The water’ll be up to the catwalk soon. You have any other suggestions?”

“I don’t like this at all.”

“Do you think I’m wild about it?”

“Obviously someone is playing games with us,” Ed insisted angrily. “Don’t you realize?”

“Across the catwalk, let’s get going! We don’t have time to argue!”

28

Entrapped …

These black dots. Why did there have to be these black dots? Claas had fled from the locker in the last moment, only to end up in some kind of fly trap. His feet got stuck in a gooey substance that covered the floor. The faceless man was approaching at a hypnotically slow pace. The thudding steps of his heavy shoes rang in Claas’s ears. It was like a nightmare without a chance of ever waking up. The man clattered his cane across the row of lockers with an earsplitting sound. The razor blades inserted into the wood scratched against metal. Black dots drifted across a face that wasn’t a face at all. Claas had to free himself of this gooey mass. A shoe and a sock were left behind. Claas didn’t care that he created bloody footprints. Something whistled through the air. The cane must have missed him only by a few inches. Finally, he reached a glue-free section of the floor. Claas staggered, fell, picked himself up, and moved on, crawling on his hands and knees. These black dots. If it just weren’t for these black dots, that burned themselves into his brain.

29

The descent …

“Do you know, the empty cradle back there …” Liv peered down the metal spiral staircase in front of her. “It really got at me.” She took a deep breath. “I stood there like frozen when the elevator opened.”

“Don’t torture yourself,” Joy replied. “Everything happened much too fast.”

Liv pressed the bloodied gauze pad to her cheek. “But it’s my fault that we got separated. If you didn’t have to take care of my injuries we could’ve stayed together.”

Tenderly Joy touched Liv’s shoulder. “Just stop it. It was Ed acting like an idiot, not you.”

“You think he found an exit?”

“Who? Ed? I’m more worried about Rick. No idea if he … if he’ll be able to make it.”

“Rick is great.”

Joy smiled. “He’s wonderful. Pity there aren’t more guys like him.”

“Let’s hope we’ll get to meet him again before we die.”

Joy shook her head. “What are you talking about?”

“It would be nicer if all of us were together when it happens.”

“I’m not ready to give up yet.”

“Are you afraid of dying?”

“Let’s just say that I refuse to go down without a fight.”

“In the end all of us have to die, no matter who we’ve been in life. And what we did.”

“The empty cradle back there …”

“I was always convinced that I had made my peace with it, but I guess I was wrong.”

“You can’t have children, can you?”

“Ovarian insufficiency,” Liv replied. “I don’t produce fertile egg cells.“

„Is this still a problem nowadays?” Joy asked. “I mean, modern medical science … in-vitro fertilization … there must be ways …”

“Maybe it works with other women, but I wasn’t so lucky. Do you have an idea to how many places I went? I’ve been to see the leading experts worldwide. The medical elite. I’ve tried everything. In the end I even consulted healers and shamans. It just wasn’t meant to be.”

“I’m sorry.”

“It’s not your fault.”

“Have you ever considered adoption?”

“That’s not the same thing.” Liv looked into Joys eyes. “Do you have children?”

“No.”

“Are you also … ?”

“No, but … my research … you know … I simply don’t have the time …”

“They have all these programs for young mothers nowadays.”

Joy laughed. “Basically nothing has changed since the good old times. A woman with children is out of the race. In the world of high-end research at least.”

“How sad.” Liv put one foot on the first step of the spiral staircase. “Let’s go down,” she murmured absently. “We have to find Ed and Rick.”

“Okay.”

“Have you ever wondered whether you should have children?”

Joy followed Liv down the stairs. “Just look at our situation. Do you think it would be very helpful having a bunch of kids in tow right now?” She sounded sarcastic.

“Maybe we wouldn’t be here at all if we had children.”

“It was my own choice. I made the decision two times. And I’ve never regretted it. If everything works out okay … I mean, if we ever get out of here … I’ll be a full professor in four years from now. I’ll be thirty then.”

“That’s very young.”

“My boss had to wait for tenure until he was 35. Still, the arrogant prick considers himself a gift to science.”

“You’ve made the decision twice? Are you talking about abortion?”

“I’m not proud of it, if this is what you mean. It was a necessary evil. I had to get my priorities straight.”

“It’s possible to have children and a career. Just take a look at all these resumes. It can be done.”

“What resumes?”

“Haven’t I told you?”

“Told me what?”

“I’m a human resources officer for GC,” Liv said. “I pick the candidates who will be invited for an interview. I’m talking top-level management positions. Believe me, it’s possible to have children and a career. Many women with children are highly successful professionals.”

“Highly successful is not enough for me.” Defiantly Joy slammed her foot down on the next metal step, producing a clanging noise. “I want the Nobel Prize. I want people to remember me.”

“No matter how high the costs? Do you plan to become a female General Custer?”

“What?”

“True to the motto ’If you are first you are first. If you are second you are nothing’.“

„Has Custer said this?“

„Do you know what became of him?”

“He’s been long dead, I believe.”

“Custer was scalped by Indians.”

“So? James Cook was eaten by natives. And still we’re talking about these two men, not about all the women worldwide who pressed new lives out of their bodies, screaming.” Joy’s eyes had taken on a shine. “People remember daredevil fighters and discoverers. That’s what counts. Everybody’s time is up eventually. We women can’t just leave all glory to the guys. Why shouldn’t we also go out with a bang?”

“You’re young. I’ll be 40 soon. With time you develop a different perspective on things. Back then, in Singapore, I was such an … innocent. A real dreamer.” Liv massaged her forehead, as if those memories of better days were torturing her. “Well, everything ends someday.”

“You of all people ought to applaud me.” Joy gave a sarcastic laugh. “I’m a merciless career woman, who’ll stop at nothing to reach her goals. Perfect recruiting material.”

“You aren’t merciless.”

Joy stopped. “But I should be.”

“I’d give anything to have a baby.”

“Having your brains leeched dry by breast feeding? Changing diapers? What’s so desirable about it? We’re eight billion people on this planet. One more or less …”

“You’re a biologist,” Liv countered. “What about passing on your own genes? Isn’t this what being alive is all about?”

“We share 99 percent of our gene pool with chimpanzees. I wasn’t talking about Ed, by the way.”

“You shouldn’t speak like this.”

“How many genes, do you think, the two of us have in common?”

“The two of us?”

“You’re from Asian stock while I’m rather the Nordic-Scandinavian type, but don’t you worry, these few base pairs don’t make a scrap of a difference. In a couple of millenniums from now no one will be able to tell any more who’s related to whom.”

“The blood line, it’s always a question of the blood line.”

Joy stopped. She leant over the banister and peered down. “Do you have any idea where we are?”

“Inside a statue, I guess,” Liv replied.

“Statue?”

“Just look at the way the copper plates are shaped. The thing above us is the head. We should be at about shoulder-level now.”

“You’re right. It reminds me of the inside of a hollowed-out Santa Claus made from chocolate.”

“This guy looks more like a warrior to me. Do you see the sword at his side?”

“Then these wavy things must be his abs.”

“The face’s only outlined.”

Liv marched down the spiral staircase. “What’s this statue good for?”

“Pssst. Hush!”

“What?”

Joy stopped. “Did you hear the sound?” she whispered.

“Sound?”

“We’re not alone.”

30

Inside the silver pyramid …

“Are you really going to eat this?” Rick frowned in disgust.

“Why not?” Ed answered, chomping.

“What if these hors d’oeuvres are poisoned?”

“Oh, crap.” Ed pulled the next mini steak off the wooden skewer with his teeth. “It’s delicious.”

“How can you be hungry now?”

“’cause it’s great grub.” Ed’s eyes wandered across the ballroom, the set tables, the big band musical instruments, and the chandeliers. “Did you notice the stucco ornaments on the ceiling?” he, mumbled, still chewing. “Art déco at its best.”

“Art déco?” Rick repeated.

“I call it filigree monstrosity. An artistic style that came into fashion at the beginning of the last century. They tried to combine the playful ornaments of the pre-industrial era with the technical brutality of modern times.”

“The style really doesn’t matter right now. The question is who might set up a posh ballroom like this inside a pyramid in the middle of the Atlantic. That’s just … how do you call it? … surreal?”

“This ballroom somehow reminds me of … I’m not sure … I’m thinking of this night in Berlin. It must have been four years ago. They had just given me a hefty raise. I felt appreciated for the first time ever.” Ed looked at Rick with a grin on his face. “Do you know how much I make as a programmer?”

“No idea.”

“350,000 euros a year.”

“Wow.” Rick whistled, impressed. “That’s sure more than baristas earn.”

“The money came in handy after my second divorce.” Ed smiled smugly. “Are you married?”

“No.”

“Insist on a marriage contract in case you ever do. Just a piece of advice.”

“Not if the right woman comes along.”

“Have you ever been inside a real upper-class ballroom? As a barista maybe?”

“Well, I never worked in one.” Rick grinned mischievously. “But I got enough of a workout in the back rooms.”

Ed picked at a shred of meat stuck between his teeth and flicked it on the table with an angry gesture.

“You don’t like it?”

“Sinews,” Ed grumbled.

“I’m sorry.”

“What you’re sorry about?” Ed snapped. “The fact that I look like shit? Or because no matter how much I make a year, you have better chances scoring on your 25,000 a year?”

Embarrassed, Rick studied the ground. “It adds up to a little more than that with tips.”

“You have no idea what it’s like to be everybody’s whipping boy at school … no, during your entire life.”

“I was only saying that I’m sorry that your steak has sinews. I don’t understand why you’re making a big thing out of it.”

“I … I don’t …” Ed swallowed. “I don’t want your pity.”

“You don’t seem to like people very much.”

“They haven’t much liked me either.”

“What goes around, comes around. Have you ever thought about that?”

“The stutter didn’t make it any easier.”

Rick took a deep breath. “I’ll take the elevator now. You want to be alone, fine with me. If I find something interesting, wetsuits and stuff, I’ll try … then I’ll come back.”

“Elevator,” Ed repeated annoyed. “As if we didn’t ride enough fucking elevators on this rig already. One shittier than the next …” Ed stopped. “Oh, fuck!” He slapped his forehead. “Why haven’t I thought of it before? That’s it.”

“That’s what?”

“Everything just dovetails.”

“What are you talking about?”

“Oh, my God! We should have never set foot into this pyramid.”

31

Below the statue …

“Quiet!” Joy was gazing at the ceiling fresco, depicting scenes from the Bible. The spiral staircase had led Joy and Liv to a library, decked out in Baroque style. Thousands of books with gilt-edged spines filled the bookcases that covered the walls, the top shelves being accessible only by ladders. The more valuable exhibits were displayed in glass cases.

“Can you hear anything?” Liv whispered.

“Back there,” Joy answered. In a corner of the library there was a flickering light. A film was projected onto the wall. It was an old black-and-white film and its quality was poor. It showed a man, sitting behind a desk. The man’s head was pixelated, which made it impossible to recognize his face. “My little Lucina,” the man said. “All of this is your world.” A girl stood in front of a large globe, laughing. Her back to the camera, the girl tried to twirl the globe on its wooden stand. “Mine?”

“It’s a tremendous responsibility,” the man replied.

“I’m only a little girl, Dad.”

“You’re my daughter, Lucina. My little ray of light. Some day all of this will be yours.”

“Responsibility …” The girl sighed. When she started to turn toward the camera the film abruptly ended.

“What might the man have been talking about?” Liv asked. “All of this will be yours?”

“Maybe a game between the two of them.”

“He must have loved her a lot.”

“What’s the meaning of all this? It just doesn’t make sense.”

“I don’t know either.” Liv pressed the gauze pad to her cheek. Her wound throbbed. She ran her tongue along the cut that had severed her cheek, swallowing the blood that had collected in her mouth.

Joy’s head jerked up. “Whoever has switched on the projector, must be still around.” Suddenly, the library became dark. They heard thudding footsteps, alternating with bangs.

“Oh, my God, someone’s coming,” Liv breathed.

32

Inside the ballroom …

“We need to get out of here. Now!” Ed yelled.

Rick pressed the elevator’s call-button. “Pull yourself together, dammit.”

“Something horrible is going on here.” Ed madly clawed at his scalp. Dandruff trickled to the floor. “GC is out to destroy us.”

“Don’t lose it now. What does GC have to do with this rig? We were in a helicopter crash.”

“That was a fake.”

The door of the elevator opened. Rick stepped into the cage, blocking the door with his foot. “Are you coming?”

“107 buttons for 107 floors. Plus the silver pyramid crowned by a statue. Everything in Art déco design. You still have no idea where we are?”

“No, dammit! Where?”

“Inside the Lovenberg Tower at Alexanderplatz.”

“What are you talking about?” Rick laughed. “We’re in the middle of the Atlantic.”

“What, do you think I’m crazy? Of course this isn’t the real thing. It’s a replica of GC’s headquarters in Berlin.”

“And … what reason did anyone have to go through all this trouble?”

“If I only knew! The only thing I’m sure of is that GC somehow lured us here.”

Rick shook his head. “Bullshit. Why should GC do such a thing?”

“Just look around. We’re not the winners of some lottery!” Ed wiped his mouth. “There’s nothing here but death. And we … we’ve been selected to die.”

“You’re definitely out of your mind. Let’s take this elevator now.”

“No!” Ed shrunk back. “It’ll only go down anyway.”

Rick studied the keypad. “Looks like it.”

“There has to be a way out of this nightmare.”

“Any suggestions?”

“Behind those palm trees … there’s a …” Ed followed a red carpet. “Here’s an escalator!” he called out. “It’s going up.”

“Up? Think! It must be a dead end!”

“I’m taking this escalator!” Ed ran up the steps.

“Come back!” Rick called after him. “We need to go down!”

Ed stopped in the middle of the escalator, a confused frown on his face. The steps bore an inscription in red:

Your mask will have to drop.

107

45

Your mask will restore identity to the dead.

45

107

When your mask falls, you will see the truth.

A noise made Ed raise his head. A cylinder that reminded him of the rotating brushes inside a car-wash was slowly sliding down the escalator’s handrail. Instead of soft bristles it was equipped with blades attached to chains that were whipping the stairs. “I’m worth something to you people!” Ed screamed in despair. “You need me! Are you listening, GC? You still need me!”

33

Entrapped …

Claas had problems keeping his balance, because all around him the world was going around in a circle. Any moment he would pass out. The room he had fled to from the faceless man blurred in front of his eyes. Oversized photographic portraits adorned the walls behind the empty coffins.

Four coffins equal four portraits.

One portrait was that of a man with reddish hair. Claas limped over to take a closer look. His editor-in-chief hadn’t been lying. The man was his spitting image. Even a facial recognition algorithm wouldn’t have been able to tell them apart. He also recognized the people on the other three pictures. All of them had won the lottery.

Four portraits, four coffins.

But six winners of the lottery.

Two were missing.

What was the meaning of all this?

Obviously, Claas had stumbled on something he didn’t quite understand. He had only scratched at the surface so far. Nothing held up to closer inspection. The thuds and bangs were coming closer. “You’ve made a mistake!” Claas started to stagger and fell. “You’ve got the wrong guy!” he called out, trying to get away on all fours. Someone stopped right behind him. Claas looked up. His pursuer’s long overcoat was touching the tip of his nose. Two clumsy shoes, covered in blood—like the blades worked into the cane. “I’m not one of the winners!” Claas pleaded. He rolled over to his side, just to avoid looking at the faceless man. “I’m not the guy on this photo! My earlobes are much closer to my head. I also have less wrinkles on my forehead and a full head of hair … don’t you see? The eyebrows … it’s not me. It’s simply not me!”

A series of explosions resounded. The blasts sent chips of plaster down from the ceiling. The faceless man took a step over Claas. When the cane prodded his side, he squeezed his eyes shut for a moment and then opened them again. The man bent down. Black dots flickered across a featureless face, coming and going seemingly at random and forming patterns, which dissolved at once. “I’m a reporter. I …” Claas went silent. At first he believed that he must be hallucinating, but then he realized that the man was smiling at him. A severe expression, yet filled with kindness. Was his face real? The man’s appearance started to change. His cheeks turned hollow, his hairline receded, his skin became wrinkly, and his cheekbones got more and more pronounced. As a final touch a goatee adorned his ninety-year-old face. The man kept on smiling until his features suddenly started to dissolve. His eyes shrank back, his lips withdrew baring teeth, and his nose shriveled. His skin was the last thing to go.

“Please, don’t kill me,” Claas pleaded. “I didn’t win the lottery!”

The man with the skull-like face rose.

“Oh, God, don’t kill me!” Claas shielded his face with his hands. The man kicked him. Claas tasted blood. The next two kicks smashed his jaw. Then everything went black.

34

Three weeks ago.

San Diego, USA, a penthouse apartment in the Gaslamp Quarter …

“Do you want to be my hero?” the woman whispered into the man’s ear. She caressed the back of his neck.

“Lucina,” the man groaned. “Beautiful Lucina.”

“We’re a sad couple of lovebirds. Like Romeo and Juliet. Without a happy ending.”

The man stopped. “What are you talking about?”

“There won’t be a happy ending.”

Tenderly, the man moved sweaty strands of hair from the woman’s forehead. “With me you’re on the safe side, babe. I’ll protect you.”

The woman smiled, only to avert her eyes the next moment. “Do you want to be my hero?”

“Of course I do.”

“Until death?”

The man kissed the woman’s temple. “Until death, beloved Lucina.”

35

Three weeks later.

On a secret rig in the North Atlantic …

The darkness was absolute. Liv clung on to Joy. “The footsteps are coming closer … don’t you hear?”

“You’re shivering from head to toe,” Joy whispered.

Liv was breathing rapidly. “The shadow’s here in the library.”

“You can’t have shadows in the dark.”

“And if you can?”

“In this case the shadow won’t be able to see more than we do.”

“You’re really a tough cookie.” Liv’s leg bumped against an object. Her hand touched a smooth surface. The safety pane of a glass case.

“Do you see the light?” Joy asked.

“What light?”

“Over there, next to the bookshelf, there’s light coming through the cracks.”

“Where?”

Joy put a hand on Liv’s shoulder. “Turn left. Can you see it now?”

“Yes.”

“There’s something hidden behind the case.”

“A secret chamber?”

“Just hold on a moment. I have an idea.” Joy pushed against the bookshelf until there was a resounding click. When she released the shelf, the hidden panel slowly swung open.

“How did you know?” Liv asked.

“I once saw something like this in a movie.” Joy pulled at the bookcase like at a door. The glare suddenly flooding the library made Joy instinctively cover her face.

Liv’s eyes adjusted to the light first. She shrunk back. “There is someone here.”

36

The descent …

Ed pressed his hands to his face. In front of his mind’s eyes still saw the rotating blades that had almost shredded him to bits. He had managed to duck out of the way at the last moment by jumping off the escalator. “GC is going to destroy us,” he said in a little voice. “It’s impossible to win against an opponent like this.” The elevator continued down. He felt so utterly vulnerable.

“Stop yammering about GC,” Rick said. “It’s annoying.”

“Their power has no limits. To them we’re nothing but vermin to be squashed at will.”

“Just leave me alone with this crazy talk. Or do you subscribe to one of these conspiracy theories that blame GC for all the ills of this world?”

Ed looked up. His eyes were bloodshot. “I’m an insider. I know exactly what GC’s up to. I work for them, after all.”

“So? Me, too.”

“Do you have any idea of the things I get to see?”

“As a matter of fact, I don’t.”

“The algorithms I program are very complex. Nobody really understands the whole picture. People work only on a need-to-know basis. But I have a grasp of the entire system …”

“So you seriously believe that this rig was built by GC?”

“Who else? Only GC has the resources.”

The doors of the elevator opened. “Let’s check out the scenery,” Rick suggested.

“We’re inside the Lovenberg Tower. I’ve told you so already.”

“Are you serious? In this case this place is even more fucked up than I thought it was.”

“What?” Ed peered from the cage. The walls of the stairwell consisted of dilapidated metal grids. Beyond them fans were circling, bathed in a reddish-brown hue reflected by the ubiquitous rust. “Looks like hell’s antechamber.”

Rick reached out to Ed, pulling him up by his hand. “See? There’s absolutely no connection to GC.”

“If you really think so.” Stale air from the fans hit Ed’s face. “Do you happen to know if they’ve single rooms in hell?”

37

In a secret chamber of the library …

Slowly, Joy’s eyes adjusted to the bright light. The images that gradually formed on her irritated retina were disturbing. Behind the bookcases, there was a hidden playroom. Hundreds of dolls sat, arranged around a wooden rocking horse.

“She has to finally learn to take responsibility.”

The chamber resounded with a sonorous male voice. Joy’s eyes settled on an old-fashioned tube TV. The screen showed a close-up of a man’s wrinkled hands. “It’s about time for her to grow up,” the man said, taking two pills from a pillbox.

“Our daughter is strong,” a woman outside the frame replied. “She wants to be number one. She feels this desire deep in her heart.”

“She’ll inherit everything. Sadly, she has no concept of what this entails.”

“Give her a little time, Heinrich.”

“Time?”

“Yes, she needs it.”

“My beloved Lucina,” the man said wistfully. “My little ray of light.”

“She won’t disappoint you,” the woman answered. Suddenly, the TV switched off.

Liv picked up a doll from the floor, turning it over.

“Who’s Lucina?” The doll’s eyelids snapped shut.

“It doesn’t matter right now,” Joy said. “Where’s the man you just saw?”

Liv returned the doll to the others. “I’m not even sure if it was a man.”

“You sounded pretty convinced.”

Liv touched her forehead. “The light … it was so … bright. There was someone in front of me.”

“This someone would have needed to walk right into us to leave this room. There’s no other way out.”

“I can’t explain it either.”

Behind them, the bookcase banged shut. Without any warning, the floor began to vibrate.

“Someone has locked us in!” Liv exclaimed.

“Look. The wall’s moving.”

“No, it’s not the wall.”

“What?”

“It’s us who’re moving.”

The playroom’s floor started to descend like the base plate of a freight elevator. The ceiling shrunk away, the wallpaper adorning the room gave way to bare ferroconcrete.

“The entire room is an elevator!” Liv cried. “We walked straight into the trap!”

“Trap?” An oversized letter appeared on the concrete wall. Joy’s first impression was that of a mark. But when the freight elevator continued down, there were more letters that added up to a name:

L

U

C

I

N

A

38

Inside the stairwell …

“Have we ever met before?” Ed asked.

“Not that I know of.” Rick pushed down the door-handle. The door didn’t budge. “Hell! This is the tenth door that’s locked.”

“The floors aren’t numbered,” Ed added. “No markings, no nothing.”

“Let’s go further down. There has to be an exit somewhere.”

“Where do you live?” Ed asked.

“Berlin,” Rick replied tersely. “Why?”

“Where in Berlin?”

“Prenzlauer Berg.”

“I live in Berlin, too. Friedrichshain.” Ed stroked his beard. “Maybe we ran into each other somewhere.”

“So?”

“I’m looking for connections, things we might have in common. Other than both of us having allegedly won the lottery.”

“Allegedly?”

“Of course. What would you call this rigmarole? Hitting the jackpot?”

“Accident, helicopter crash … oh, well, everyone’s entitled to their opinion.”

“I’m sure I know Joy from somewhere,” Ed said. “A beautiful woman like her. I just can’t remember where we met.”

Rick stopped on the landing. “Maybe we’ve really bumped into each other. Like at a GC party or so.”

“What did you just say?” Ed asked, suddenly alert.

“Well, maybe we’ve met at one of these annual events. You know, each year GC throws a party for the best employees of the previous year, everyone, from CEO to barista, is invited. They want the bosses to mingle with the great unwashed.” Rick grinned. “Although I have no idea if this includes programmers.”

“Yes, you’re right … exactly … a party. This must be it. Why didn’t I think of it straight away?”

Rick looked over to the next door leading out of the stairwell. “What’s this?”

“Huh?”

“This thing …” Rick was pointing at the typewriter that sat right next to the door.

“These contraptions were used for writing letters before the advent of computers.”

“Thank you for enlightening me, man,” Rick scoffed. “I’m talking about the sheet of paper in the machine. What does it say?”

Ed pulled the paper from the typewriter. There were just five underscored words:

Confession of the four culprits

“Do you understand what this is trying to tell us?” Rick asked.

Ed shook his head, looking worried. “They can’t possibly know about it. It happened too long ago.”

“What are you talking about?” Rick pushed down the door handle. The door was unlocked. “Hey, here’s a way out.”

Ed balled up the page and tossed it to the ground. “It happened too long ago,” he repeated to himself. He seemed to have forgotten that he had company. “There were no witnesses.” He started biting his nails. “A drone maybe? No, impossible. They didn’t exist back then.”

“What might those drones have watched, you think?” Rick asked.

Ed took a deep breath. After collecting himself for a moment, he gave Rick an artificial smile. “Never mind.”

“Are you coming?”

Ed fixed Rick with a questioning look. “And what’s your story?”

“What story?”

“It looks like GC wants to bring us to trial. The idea behind this whole thing is to punish us.”

“Us?”

“It’s all about four people confessing something.”

“I’m not so good with numbers, but weren’t there six of us?” Rick raised his brows. “By the way: What makes you think that they’re talking about you?”

“Me?” Ed waved him off. “No, it’s just bullshit. You misunderstood. It only is … the whole thing is getting too much for me.”

“If you need to get something off your chest, now would be the right moment to do so.”

Ed smoothed down his hair and tucked in his shirt. “After we’ve walked through this door there won’t be a way back.”

“Right. That’s why you’d better speak up.”

Ed patted Rick’s shoulder. “Come on. Let’s start walking.”

39

Two years ago.

Berlin, Germany.

Observatory, Arkenberge …

“Earth is just the first step, that’s what my father used to say.” The woman was staring at the sky through the open roof of the observatory. Her chair stood on a stage like a throne.

“For your father there were no limits.” The tall skinny man approached her, stopping on the last-but-one step of the podium.

“There’s too much flare,” the woman complained. “A golden aura, descending on Berlin like a veil. You’d need to switch off all the lights to properly see the stars.”

“The shareholders want to know about your future plans,” the skinny man replied. “When will you come out to talk to them?”

“You’ve always been loyal, Bob.”

“I’ve known you since the day you were born.”

“The lights of the city,” the woman said, almost to herself. “All those lights. My father used to call me Lucina, my little ray of light.”

“Losing both, your mother and your father, in such a short time was a tragedy.”

“My mother never got over my father’s death. Especially considering the circumstances under which said death occurred.” The woman pressed a button on the keyboard attached to the armrest of her chair. The telescope’s eyepiece swung aside. “Do you think it’s possible to die of a broken heart?”

“You’re the sole heiress of the GC imperium now.”

“Yes, I am.” Again, the woman stared at the nightly sky. Only a few stars were visible. “In clear nights you can see Mars with the naked eye.”

“When the weather is clear the entire world appears to be quite different. Always keep this in mind.”

“All those galaxies. Countless star systems, awaiting new settlers. For my father earth was just foreplay.”

“Your father was a visionary. A truly great man.”

“He wasn’t able to conquer death, though.”

“You are his answer to death.”

“My faithful Bob.” The woman gave a quick smile, only to turn melancholy again. “Give me a little time, yes? Maybe a few stars will sparkle for me after those thunder clouds have disappeared.”

“You’ve got all the time in the world. You’re the heiress. The most powerful human being on earth.”

“Powerful?” the woman repeated. “What kind of power do I have?” She made a half-turn in her chair. “Bob?” she asked, hidden behind the chair’s back.

“Yes?”

“Sometimes I wish all those lights would just go off.”

“What do you mean by that?”

“Sometimes I think it would be better if everything went dark.”

“You’ll have to cross this valley. But I’ll be at your side.”

“You’re the most faithful servant our family has ever had.”

“And I’ll continue to be, if that’s what you want.”

“I wouldn’t know what I’d do without you, Bob.”

“Then I’ll feel honored to serve you.”

“Bob?”

“Yes?”

“Maybe I’ll have to ask you to do something … something atrocious.”

“I am committed to your father even beyond death. And you’re his daughter. Nothing else counts.”

“You’ll be at my side no matter what I’ll ask you to do?”

“You know I will.”

“I just needed to hear it again.”

“When will you speak to the shareholders?”

“Tell them I’ll be with them when I’m ready.”

Bob walked down the steps of the stage. When he reached the bottom, he turned around. “As I can see you have started to accept your duty.”

40

Two years later.

On a secret rig in the North Atlantic, 1,300 feet below sea level …

Claas was drifting in and out of consciousness. He couldn’t even guess how often he had passed out. Time had stopped to be a valid concept. Exhaustion threatened to overwhelm him. There was water everywhere. It was streaming into his mouth and ears, covering his body up to his chin. When he coughed, he brought up blood. But instead of pain he only felt numbness. He ran his tongue over his teeth. The top row had been knocked out. His right eye was swollen shut, the left only produced blurry images. In spite of all his injuries there was a curious absence of pain. Could this vegetative state still be called a life? A pungent odor assaulted his nostrils. It reminded him of nail polish remover. But there also was a tinge of something else. A disinfectant.

“I’m not the one you’re looking for!”

An echo like in a vault. A ceiling as black as the walls. And a well which held him captive. Chained to the wall like a prisoner in a dungeon. Water continued to trickle into the well, making the level rise. Very soon he’d drown.

“You’re crazy! What do you want from me?”

There was writing on the wall of the well. Claas couldn’t decipher it at first. He blinked with the one eye left to him. The letters became clearer.

107

45

Own up to your guilt and save your life!

An old-fashioned microphone was dangling right in front of him, having been lowered from above on a rope. In this hall that was as dark as a crypt. Claas tightened his body and shook himself.

“I’m not the man you want!”

Long blonde hair was floating in the water. There was a human head right below the surface. A woman was chained down right next to him to the wall of the well. It was Kim. She had drowned miserably. Nobody deserved a fate like this. And soon he’d be joining her.

The microphone served the purpose of taping his confession. Claas didn’t have the faintest idea what this was all about. His plan had been to research for a story. For the first time ever he had planned not to make something up. And now he himself had become part of this story. A story someone else was going to write. Water kept on gurgling into the well, the level rising and rising.

41

On the platform of a freight elevator …

“Lucina!” a disturbingly deep voice was calling.

“Can you see anything?” Joy asked nervously. The freight elevator had stopped. Its platform was a square of light, surrounded by darkness.

“No, nothing,” Liv replied in a whisper.

“It feels as if someone …”

A fluorescent light clicked on. Next to the elevator there stood a giant of a man, wearing a long overcoat and an oversized wide-brimmed hat.

“That’s him!” Liv shrank back. “The man, who …” Her breathing became erratic. “It’s … him!”

“Lucina!” the man called. His face was hidden in the shadow of his hat. “Finally, we’re united again!” The next moment the hydraulic system set into motion. The platform of the elevator tilted, making rocking horse, dolls, and tube TV slide off and land at the man’s feet. The TV imploded. Instinctively, Liv dropped to the ground. She crawled back into the furthest corner of the platform, frantically trying to cling on to the floor. Joy just stood there, rooted to the spot. She didn’t know how to defend herself. There was no way out. The platform kept on tilting, the angle getting steeper and steeper like the back of a garbage truck discharging its load.

“Lucina!” The man spread his arms. One of his hands held the cane armed with razor blades. The fluorescent light flickered. “Come over to me!”

Liv lost her hold. She started slipping and rolled off the platform, pulling Joy along with her. Right into the man’s arms.

42

Inside the stairwell …

“How do you look cool while drinking Capri Sun children’s punch?” Rick asked with a wide grin.

Ed’s face showed exasperation. “What are you talking about?” He opened the stairwell door.

“Have you ever watched an awesome mountain of a man, a six-feet-four body building type, putting a tiny straw in his mouth to drink from a pouch of Capri Sun? Sucking greedily with pursed lips like a baby mouse? Looks plain stupid, doesn’t it?”

“Where are you going with this?”

“With what?”

“With all this talk about Capri Sun. As if we didn’t have any real problems.”

“Stay cool. I just wanted to lighten the mood.”

“Lighten the mood,” Ed repeated. “I was never cool. Neither with Capri Sun nor without it.”

“Maybe there’s something wrong with your attitude. You have to feel cool first to be it.”

“Any more of this just take-it-easy shit and I’m going to kill myself right here.”

“Suicide in a chapel? Not a good idea.”

“Chapel?” Ed looked around the spartan room beyond the door to the stairwell. A wooden crucifix rose from a stone altar.

“You’d better wait until later.” Rick dipped his hand into the holy water font and crossed himself.

“Catholic?” Ed asked with a sneer.

“So?”

“What did I do wrong to have to bite the dust in the company of a Catholic?”

“You don’t believe in God?”

“Forget it,” Ed grumbled. “Atheist in the third generation.”

“What’s your last name, by the way?”

“None of your business.”

“It doesn’t happen to be Grouch, does it?” Rick laughed.

“I didn’t know that you’re allowed to joke around in a church.”

“As you surely have realized this isn’t a church.”

“Go figure.”

“This room definitely has never been consecrated.”

“Why did you cross yourself, then?”

“Habit,” Rick replied.

“You’re making me laugh.”

“Where you’re going?”

“The closet over there has three doors, one of them has to be the exit.”

“Have you ever been inside a church?” Rick asked.

“Now and then. When I was a child.”

“This closet happens to be a confessional.”

“Confessional?” Ed looked surprised. “Now I’m starting to get it.”

“The doors left and right are meant for the penitents, the one in the middle is for the priest.” Rick tried to open the doors one after another. “All locked.”

“Confessional or not,” Ed said. “The priest must be taking a day off.”

Rick rubbed the back of his neck. “And what’re we going to do now?”

“Maybe there’re keys somewhere.”

“Here’s a safe.” Rick pointed at the altar.

“Let me have a look,” Ed said. “A five-digit code.”

“How do we find out what it is?” Rick asked.

Without a moment of hesitation Ed entered the combination “10745”. The door of the safe swung open.

“How did you guess?”

“Numbers are my business.”

“We’ve seen number 107,” Rick said. “But 45 … where have we come across this one?”

“On the damn escalator.”

“Escalator? Are you talking about the knife-fest back in the ballroom? You never mentioned number 45.”

“And this is important why?”

“Well, it obviously is.”

“107. That’s the number of floors in the Lovenberg Tower in Berlin. I’m absolutely sure. But 45?” Ed racked his brain. “What does the second number mean?”

Rick opened the safe all the way. “Well, here you go: the key.“

Ed grabbed the key, marched over to the confessional, and unlocked the left door. Rick remained standing in front of the safe.

“What are you doing?” Ed asked. “Aren’t you curious to know what’s inside the confessional?”

“There’s also a …”

“Speak up.”

“There’s something else in here.”

“What is it?”

“A weapon.” Rick took a pistol from the safe. “A brand new GC 17.” He checked for a round in the chamber, before removing the clip. This were the fluent movements of someone being used to handle guns. “Only one shot left.”

“You know your way around guns?” Ed didn’t sound surprised.

Rick nodded. “Yep.” He tucked the gun into his belt.

“Isn’t it great? The dashing Marine and the adipose computer nerd. Like straight from Central Casting.”

“I’ve never been a soldier.”

“Do they teach things like this in barista-school?” Ed gave a dirty laugh. “The hipster latte-crowd doesn’t seem to be so peaceful after all.”

“I used to work in personal security.”

“You were a bodyguard?” Ed expelled a respectful whistle. “Where?”

“With GC.”

“GC … where else could it be? And why did you quit?”

“Bad knees.”

“Rather coffee, then?”

“Rather coffee.”

“Amen to this, brother.” Ed opened the door of the confessional, shrinking back the next moment. “Oh, holy shit!”

43

At the freight elevator …

The man raised his cane, ready to strike. The razor blades glittered in the fluorescent light. Next, the cane swooped down on Joy with a vengeance. There was a bang, when the cane met with an invisible barrier. Joy didn’t understand what was happening. Again the man attacked—and again something blocked his blow. Finally Joy saw the reason why. A glass pane separated her from her opponent. When he took a third swing, the cane splintered. The glass shuddered under the impact but it held. The man was very close to Joy. He was breathing against the pane until the glass fogged up. It was impossible to make out his face under the wide brim of his hat. Joy reached out for a shard of glass from the imploded TV set. Then she looked over to Liv who was crouching next to her on the floor.

“Lucina …” The man’s whisper came through the glass. He seemed to be perfectly at home on this bogus rig with its underwater structure and its statue. The fluorescent light flickered and went off.

For a while there was absolute silence. “Are you still here?” Liv whispered into the darkness.

“Yes.”

“Give me your hand.” Liv crawled over to Joy. “Is the man still around?”

“I don’t know.”

“Can you see anything?”

“I … don’t know … yes …” Bright dots of light appeared in the darkness. Joy’s first thought was that it must be fireflies having been set loose somehow inside the rig. However, something was wrong here. The fireflies seemed to be approaching in an organized formation. The shiny bugs were performing a choreographed dance as if controlled by a higher power. Suddenly, Joy realized that it wasn’t the dots of light which moved. It was the darkness itself that seemed to have a life of its own. It was so absolutely and utterly black. The dots merged into symmetrical shapes, only to dissolve like paint on the tip of a brush when it’s immersed in water. Was this an unknown form of intelligence trying to communicate with her? The message was raw and elemental. Suddenly, a glaring fluorescent ceiling fixture clicked on. Its shine created darkness where just a few moments ago there had been light: in the face of the man. He reached for a lever. “Let’s play, Lucina!” The man pulled at the lever. A trapdoor opened. Joy and Liv tumbled into the abyss. A second later their screams had died away.

44

Inside the chapel …

Ed’s eyes teared up. His throat constricted. “Something …” He coughed. “Something’s coming through the AC vents.”

“Gas?” Rick was coughing, too.

“Yes!”

“Let’s get into the confessional. Hurry!”

“No!”

“We don’t have a choice.” Rick shoved Ed into the cubicle, slamming the door behind them.

Ed was retching. “No, no!”

Rick felt for the door jamb. Rubber insulation prevented the gas from seeping in. “We’re safe for now.”

Ed wheezed, “because this … isn’t a confessional.”

Rick nodded. “I have the funny feeling you’re right.” The space that usually housed the kneeler and the screen that allowed penitents to converse with the priest was taken up by a floor indicator. A door in the back led out of the cubicle. A mirror adorned the ceiling, the walls were covered with aluminum plate.

Ed spat on the floor. “A fucking elevator once again.”

“How is this possible?”

“Prepare for decontamination,” a female voice announced. “45, 44, 43 …” The voice was doing a countdown.

“What the hell is this?” Rick asked.

“Are we contaminated?” Ed peered at himself in the ceiling mirror. He didn’t like the way his wet clothes outlined his gut, while Rick looked like a model who had been sprayed with liquid for a photo shooting. He so hated the image the mirror threw back at him.

“20, 19, 18 …” The female voice was counting stoically.

Rick drew his gun. “This isn’t an elevator.” He pointed his weapon at the back door. “It’s a goddamn sally port!”

“45!” Ed called out. “Of course! The countdown!” He started to laugh hysterically. “It’s seconds! 45 seconds!”

“Decontamination completed.” A warning signal resounded. The sally port hissed open.

45

Under the trap door …

Liv worked her way through an ocean of multicolored balls. “Joy? Where are you?”

“Right behind you.”

“Thank God,” Liv said. They had been tossed into a ball pit directly below the trap door. Joy inspected the deep cuts that ran across her hand. She had held on to the broken piece of TV screen during her fall. “Next time this bastard attacks us, I’ll show him.” Joy pocketed the shard, wiping her bloody hand on her blouse.

“Where are we?” Liv asked. “At a carnival?”

Joy waded through the mound of balls. “Looks like it.”

Tinkling, honking, and rattling filled the room. A coconut shy stood next to stalls selling lottery tickets, and there also were merry-go-rounds. All over the place colorful lights were blinking, the sweetish smell of cotton candy was in the air.

“Roll up, folks,” a tinny voice droned from the loudspeakers. “Only here you’ll get to view freaks and mutants. Roll up and take a look at the scum of mankind.”

“There’s no one else here,” Liv observed.

“No other people at least.” Joy gazed at the mechanic fortuneteller in front of the ball pit.

“Do you want to know what future has in store for you?” the fortuneteller’s voice demanded. “Madame Fatima’s view into the future will change your life forever.” Madame Fatima spewed forth a strip of paper from her plastic mouth.

You shall be a major disappointment to your father.

Joy tore off the paper. “Oh, how I hate these stupid one-size-fits-all pearls of wisdom.” She balled up the paper and hurled it to the ground.

“Why are you so upset?” Liv asked.

“Can you name one person who has never disappointed her father?”

Liv put a protective hand on Joy’s shoulder. “You shouldn’t take it personally.”

“Not take it personally?”

“It’s just a strip of paper.”

“I know that it wasn’t specifically meant for me.”

Liv pointed at a banner suspended from the ceiling. “Look up.”

Lucina’s Carnival Of Human Abominations.

Enter At Your Own Risk!

“Lucina. Everything’s Lucina,” Joy groused.

“We definitely need to find this woman. Maybe we’ll understand then what’s happening here.”

“Is Lucina a perp or a victim?”

“I guess we’ll know when we get to meet her.”

“Roll up, folks,” the voice from the loudspeakers picked up again. “Roll up and take look at our pair of human freaks … yes … right, I’m talking about the two of you.”

Joy flinched. “Did you hear this?”

“Hear what?”

“He … is talking to us.”

“Who?”

“The guy from the loudspeaker.”

“Nonsense. It’s a recording.”

The light went off. The sounds—all the honking, tinkling, and rattling—suddenly went silent. Static poured from the speakers. It seemed to continue forever until there was a snap, like from a microphone being switched on. “No, this is not a recording,” a deep male voice said. A strobing neon sign came to life, illuminating two exits. “Death” was the inscription above double doors with a golden handle. An opening in the wall, barely large enough for a person to squeeze through, was labeled “Exit”.

46

Beyond the sally port …

“Where does this tunnel lead to?” Rick asked.

“No idea,” Ed replied. A vivid blue ocean was visible behind thick safety glass. To Ed it felt like the tunnel inside an aquarium under a tank full of sharks.

“How many tons might be weighing down on this structure?” Rick felt change of pressure in his ears.

“0.1 bar per three feet. This makes it 10 bar per 300 feet of water.”

“300 feet? How did you arrive at 300 feet? Do you think we’re that far down?”

“Consider yourself lucky that it’s only that. Lower than 600 feet and we’re talking deep sea. It’s absolutely dark down there.”

Rick gazed at the tunnel’s vaulted glass. “How far down does it go?”

“Good question. I’ve no idea where we are exactly. But in the Atlantic 6,000 to 12,000 feet are possible.”

“12,000 feet?” Rick ran his hand across the safety glass. “Can the pane withstand so much pressure?”

Ed grinned sardonically. “No way. A few hundreds of feet and then …” He pushed his palms together as if making to squash something. “ … we’d be mush. Actually, we’d burn because the air’d be compressed within the fraction of a second.”

“And you think that’s funny?”

“It has nothing to do with humor. It’s the laws of physics.”

Rick leant his forehead against the glass, peering down. “There are spotlights on the façade. The structure’s going straight down. No end in sight.”

“107 is the magic number. 107 floors. When we figure on 12 feet per floor, it puts us at 1,284 feet.”

“You’re joking, right?”

“It wasn’t my idea.”

“What about 45? Maybe this is the number of floors.”

“No way. Remember the sally port. The woman counted down 45 seconds. The number stands for seconds.”

“And why exactly does this countdown last 45 seconds?”

“I’ve been asking myself the same question. It’s a coded clue. An elevator-ride from floor 107 to ground floor takes approximately 45 seconds. Maybe that’s what it means.”

“The elevator-ride?”

Ed nodded yes. “A good 28 feet per second. That’s about right.”

“But how does it concern us?” Rick tucked the gun into his belt. “What reason could anyone have to go through all this trouble?”

“Something must have happened in Lovenberg Tower.”

“This doesn’t answer my question.”

Ed stroked his beard, lost in thought. “Four people are blamed. Four culprits, 45 seconds, one elevator.”

“In this case the reason must be revenge. Someone wants somebody else to pay, right?”

“Looks like it.”

“There’s another bulkhead over there.” Rick pointed at the end of the tunnel. “Let’s see what happens next.”

“Have you ever been inside Lovenberg Tower?”

“Of course. I live in Berlin, remember?”

“Has there ever been an incident in one of the elevators? An accident maybe? Someone getting violent?”

“Not that I know of. At least I don’t recall reading anything online.”

“What might have triggered such an act of revenge? Why bother with a huge place like this?” Ed pondered. “The weirdest thing that ever happened to me inside an elevator—besides all this crap here, I mean—well, the weirdest thing was the elevator getting stuck with me and an old lady inside. She had this mutt with her, which kept on barking at me like mad. I just started snarling until it shut the fuck up. The old lady was not amused. But I doubt that she’d commission a rig in the middle of the Atlantic just to get even with me.”

Rick stopped and eyed Ed doubtfully. “Four culprits, but there’s six of us. The six winners of the lottery.”

“You don’t say. Not a new revelation, I would think.”

“I’m a barista, not an idiot.”

“Nobody said you were.”

“Do you think that two of us might be … involved, you know what I mean?”

“Four of us have been pronounced guilty, this much is clear.”

Rick frowned, his youthful exuberance being suddenly gone. “Can I trust you?” He opened the bulkhead at the end of the tunnel.

“You have the gun,” Ed answered.

“And you go first.”

“Can I trust you?”

“You don’t have a choice, right?”

47

Inside the exit tube …

“Maybe it would have been a better idea to take ’Death’,” Joy said. The coarse metal surface was chafing at her elbows. The tube beyond the “Exit” sign was as narrow as a torpedo shaft.

Liv was following right behind her. “We had no way of knowing what might be waiting for us at the other side of the gilt-edged door.”

“Whatever,” Joy said. “We made our choice.”

“It wasn’t easy.”

“It’s never easy.”

“May I ask you something.”

“Go ahead.”

“That strip of paper the fortuneteller just spat out,” Liv began. “Why did it make you so mad?”

“It’s an old and boring story,” Joy replied.

“Try me.”

“We’ve other things to think about right now, don’t you agree?”

“What’s bothering you?”

“In my view people need to keep their private garbage to themselves.”

“What are our odds of getting out of here alive?”

“Percentage-wise?”

“Maybe you would feel better if you open up. Does it have anything to do with your father?”

“Hell, you don’t give up, do you?”

“They don’t call me stubborn for nothing.”

“Well, at least something we have in common. Always hell-bent on getting our way.“ Joy sighed. „My father ought to have known better. I’m not made to be a banker. All my heart belongs to science. There’s so many things I want to achieve. But dealing with the intricacies of finances is definitely not one of them.”

“What did your father want you to do?”

“He wanted me to take over the bank.”

“What bank are you talking about?”

“Ever heard of Van’t-Hoff Bank?”

“Of course I did.”

“I’m Joy Van’t Hoff. Daughter of Heinrich Van’t Hoff.”

“What? You’re the daughter of the legendary banker? But you are still … you are so young.”

“My dad became a father very late in life. I’m his only child.”

“But he’s … isn’t he?”

Joy nodded. “Suicide. Christmas five years ago.”

“I’m sorry.”

“GC pulled the plug on our bank.”

“Oh, no!”

“My father was always so strong, you know. A real old-school patriarch. Not holding the rains any longer, this loss of control, it simply pulled the rug out from under his feet.”

“If there’s anything I can do …”

“Look and see!” Joy exclaimed. There was a disked bulkhead in front of them. “I need to get out of this tube, I can’t breathe.”

48

In the hall of the waterfalls …

“This is getting more and more surreal.” Ed had a salty taste on his tongue. Water was cascading down from about 100 feet into the abyss. He was standing next to Rick on a platform that jutted out like a vantage point right next to a waterfall. A wall of mist shrouded everything below them in an impenetrable white veil. They could only guess at the actual dimensions of the space around them.

“Are these meant for us?” Rick asked. Four ropes were fastened to the railing with knots. The ropes came from above and led to the other side of the waterfall.

“This is something I’ve always wanted to do.” Rick untied one of the knots and tested the rope. “Seems to be safe.”

“What are you up to now?” Ed asked. “Do you want to swing across like Tarzan?”

“Do you have any other suggestion? Going back is out of the question.”

“The water’ll whack you on the head with full force. Man, you’ll pass out before you even reach the other side.”

Rick smiled. “The barrier of water looks rather thin to me. Kind of like a curtain.”

“Last time I checked you weren’t a specialist on waterfalls.” Ed cast a doubtful look at the crack in the ceiling where water spewed forth.

“I’ll give it a try.” Holding on the rope, Rick clambered atop the railing. “Keep your fingers crossed.”

“Goddammit, wait a moment!” Ed called out. “Let’s first consider our options!”

“Options?” Rick turned around. “To hell with those options! You have to take a risk sometimes!” He grabbed the rope with both hands and pushed himself off the railing. “I’ll see you on the other side!” he called before diving into the waterfall.

49

Deep inside the rig …

Claas had given up hope. The echo of his last call for help had faded away a long time ago in this dark crypt. It was useless to fight. The water was steadily rising inch by inch.

107

45

Own up to your guilt and save your life!

By the time the water would reach the writing on the wall, he’d long be dead. What did they want him to own up to? He hadn’t the faintest clue. Kim obviously hadn’t spoken a confession into the microphone either. Otherwise she wouldn’t be dead now. Did his doppelganger, the real winner of the lottery, know what was happening? Maybe he hadn’t sold the winning ticket to make money, but to save his life. Had he suspected what was in store for him? Claas craned his neck as far as he could. There were only a few seconds left before the water got to him. Behind the well, there were two coffins made of metal that had been painted with black varnish. As far as Claas could see, their fronts bore inscriptions. The wall of the well blocked the rest of his view. If only he had been able to read the names on those coffins. Maybe then he’d unveil the mystery surrounding the secret rig. He summoned all his strength to turn his head, trying to hoist up his body. The ropes tying his wrists and ankles tightened. The names of two people moved into his field of vision. The coffins belonged to a husband and wife. Finally Claas knew who was entombed here. But would this knowledge save his life? When his body went slack, he gulped a mouthful of water. The microphone was dangling above his head. Suddenly, a thought struck. An idea that morphed into a word: sarcophagus. Again, he had to spit out the water filling his mouth. He drew up his head as high as possible, screaming on the top of his lungs: “Sarcophagus! Project Sarcophagus!” He felt that he had finally solved the puzzle.

50

In the hall of the waterfalls …

“From the frying pan into the fire,” Joy stated, shaking her head.

“Do we want to risk it?” Liv was staring at the suspension bridge leading across the waterfall.

“Do we have a choice?” Joy felt a breath of air on her cheek. At first she thought that the turbulence was caused by the waterfall. But suddenly something slammed into her shoulder from above. Joy dropped onto the boards of the bridge.

“He’s found us!” Liv screamed, half-crazed from fear. “He’s here!” The giant had swooped down on them, suspended from a steel cable. He undid the hasp that secured him to the rope and made a grab for Liv.

“Get away from us, or else!” Joy pushed herself off the ground. She pulled the shard of glass from her pocket and rammed it into the blackness where she assumed the man’s face to be. The giant released Liv, uttering a guttural scream.

“Come on!” Joy yelled. She and Liv dragged themselves across the bridge, ducked under the waterfall, and looked around. “I don’t believe it,” Joy groaned. “I simply don’t believe it.” At first, there was only a blurry silhouette, a dark harbinger of threat, hardly visible through the wall of water. But with every step closer to the waterfall the figure became clearer. It stopped on the other side for a moment and then took another step forward. And another, and another, until water was beating down on his hat. His face bathed in shadows, he just stood there as if frozen in mid-movement.

“Down!” Liv hollered, pushing Joy to the ground. A shot rang out, accompanied by the sound of cascading water. Gun raised, Rick appeared out of nowhere. He had fired at close range. The man clutched at his chest and took a leap across Liv and Joy, slamming his entire body weight into Rick. Rick was no match for the impetus of the attack. The gun dropped from his hand and he fell to the ground. The man continued running. The suspension bridge ended at the tip of a black pyramid. There was no other access but two more bridges that met there. The pyramid was surrounded by a ring of waterfalls. The man yanked open a bulkhead at the pyramid’s top corner and was gone.

“Thank God!” Rick helped Joy to her feet. “You’re alive.” He drew her into a hug.

Joy smiled. “Great to see you again.” She hugged him back closely. Rick touched his belly, his face distorted with pain.

“What’s wrong?” Joy asked.

“This damn blow with his cane’s still bothering me.”

“Let me have a look.”

“Don’t worry, I’ll live.” Rick turned to Liv. “Everything okay?”

“Just look!” Liv was staring at the pyramid, transfixed. Fog shrouded its tip like a mountain plateau. “He … he’s coming back!”

“What?”

Liv clung on to Rick. “The man! Shadow Man’s coming back!”

Rick had trouble seeing something through the veil of fog. “Liv’s right … there’s someone coming …” The figure’s body-type was that of a man with average built, his tread was clumsy. Rick laughed. “I would’ve never thought that he had it in him.”

“Oh, man, this was absolutely awesome!” Ed took a deep satisfied breath, clearly savoring his adventure. “I haven’t enjoyed anything so much in a long time! Crazy shit! Like Tarzan swinging on a liana.”

“Where’re you coming from?” Joy said.

“Did you just ask me where I’m coming from?”

“Yes.”

Ed frowned. “It’s really heartwarming to see how much you’ve missed me.”

Liv drew the net bandage over her wound until it was again covered by gauze pads. “Have you been inside the black pyramid?”

“What do you mean by pyramid?” Ed replied. “It was fucking fan-tas-tic, believe me. I mean, at first I was waiting for Rick to return. But after a while I thought to myself: to hell with it. Heaven helps those who help themselves. And then I just swung across. Can you imagine? Headlong into the unknown! Me, having no idea what to expect on the other side of the waterfall.”

“You must have run into the guy, then.” Joy was confused.

“Guy, what guy?” Ed gave her a questioning look.

“The guy who just attacked us.”

“What the hell are you talking about? Is this some kind of tribunal? I’m telling you about something I accomplished and you’ve nothing better to do than to accuse me of things.”

Joy studied Ed with a skeptical expression. “There are two more bridges leading over to the pyramid. Which one did you take? The left one or the right one?”

“None of the two,” Ed snarled. “I flew in with Air Liana.” He gave Joy an annoyed look, the child-like enthusiasm in his face gone. “Did Rick also get a whooping welcome like this?”

“The bulkhead’s still open,” Liv said, ignoring Ed. She hadn’t let the pyramid out of her sight during the exchange. “I wonder how long it’ll take him to return. Maybe he just went to get something … like a weapon … and then … then he’ll be back … yes, then he’ll be back …”

Ed slowly studied the others. “Is this it? After everything we went through together? No friendly words? No hugs? Nothing? God, you guys are cold.”

“Now don’t you pretend you’re into warm and fuzzy,” Joy said absently. She was staring at her injured hand. When she had stabbed the man, the shard had splintered under the impact, making the fragments useless as a weapon. Joy dropped them and wiped her bloodied hand on her blouse. “All of us have gone through a lot.”

“Well, I was actually hoping for more,” Ed said. “At least we’re together again … I mean … it’s only four of us left. We happened to be seven, if you care to remember. What’s the name of the game here? Each One Their Own Death?”

“Will you just stop whining?” Joy said, adjusting her hairpins. She tried to straighten her wet blouse where her nipples had become all too visible. “We don’t know each other that well.”

“I always believed that people tend to bond in extreme situations.”

“We’d better think about a way how to get out of here.”

“Okay, thanks a lot.” Ed shook his head in dismay.

Liv picked up the gun and handed it to Rick. “You missed him.”

“No way,” Rick protested. “The shot definitely hit home.”

“Maybe you’ll get him next time.”

“There won’t be a next time.” Rick tucked the gun into his belt. “No more rounds left.”

Liv lowered her eyes. “I guess this means that we can just forget it.”

“First the silver pyramid, now the black one,” Joy mused.

“Silver and black … what does this tell us?”

“These things aren’t pyramids,” Ed interjected.

“What else should they be?”

“The structure reaches down a lot further than that. This so called pyramid is only the top part of an …”

“Obelisk,” Rick finished the sentence for him.

“Exactly.” Ed nodded yes.

“Is this thing below us an obelisk, too?” Rick wanted to know.

Ed rubbed his parched lips. “You remember the nursery with the cradle?”

“The labyrinth on the carpet?” Joy said.

“The exit of the labyrinth was marked by a black obelisk,” Ed explained.

“And this black pyramid is the tip of that obelisk?” Joy demanded.

Ed nodded yes. “First, the white obelisk sticking out of the water, then the silver one … and now … now we have a black one. Three obelisks stacked on top of each other like … a rocket … a three-stage rocket.”

“Obelisks … rockets … how is this possible?” Rick wondered. “We’re in the middle of the Atlantic! We’re on the water!”

“There has to be something that prevents this whole place from taking a plunge to the bottom of the ocean,” Ed replied. “These stacked obelisks are floating like a giant iceberg with its tip sticking straight out the water.”

“They could have floats that give them buoyancy,” Joy suggested.

“Hmmm. Maybe there are air tanks attached to the outer skin to stop the obelisks from toppling.”

Suddenly, sirens began to screech. The ululating sound was repeated three times. Next, the same number of jolts shook the hall. “I don’t believe it!” Joy slapped her forehead. “It’s happening again!”

“Come on! Into the obelisk!” Rick called out.

“Are you crazy?” Liv shook her head. “The man! He’ll be waiting for us!”

There was a groan, followed by an ear-shattering grinding noise. Hundreds of flaps were released in the hall’s ceiling. Water shot through the openings. The air was churned up like during a storm. The suspension bridge started wobbling. Rick frantically waved his arms. “Into the black obelisk! Quick! They’re flooding the hall!”

51

Deep inside the black obelisk …

Even if Claas had wanted to cry out for help one last time, he wouldn’t have been able to. By now the water was reaching up to his eyes. Five quarts of air left in his lungs. He had managed to take a breath through his nose just in time. Claas wanted to think of the people in his life who had meant something to him: his parents, his sister, his friends. Or maybe the love of his life. However, his thoughts circled around the names of two strangers. Claas closed his eyes. Soon he’d start convulsing. In a few moments the primeval part of his brain, the animal part, would take over. And still the only thing on Claas’s mind so closely before death, the only thing filling his head in those final seconds, were the names written on the coffins:

*** Sayuri von Lovenberg ***

*** Heinrich von Lovenberg ***

The keys to a mystery he had failed to solve.

52

In another area inside the black obelisk …

“How long, you think, we’ll have until the next time?” Joy asked. She was staring at the granite floor-tiles in awe. The floor of the pillared hall they had just entered was sectioned into chessboard-like squares.

Ed took a step back. “Three, two, one …” A three-feet blade shot from a crack in the floor and withdrew again with a clatter.

“We have to go back.” Liv crossed her arms to hide her tremor. The blade had sprung from the floor six times since they had been in this hall, always popping up in different places.

“45 seconds?” Joy asked. “Do you have a stop-watch implant?”

“45 is the second magical number.”

“What are you talking about?”

“You do remember the first magical number in the staff lounge, right?” Ed’s voice sounded strident.

“Do you think I’m an idiot? It’s 107. This was the number on the key-fob.”

“Lovenberg Tower has 107 floors.”

“Which remains to be proven.”

“45 seconds. That’s the time for an elevator ride all the way from top to bottom.” Ed massaged his temples with circling movements. The effect of the alcohol was waning. The pounding headache that was slowly building up felt as ominous as a flash of lightning before a storm. He pointed his finger at the floor tiles. “Three, two, one … just a moment …” Once more the blade shot up, less than 30 feet away.

“Let’s assume that 107 really refers to the number of floors in Lovenberg Tower,” Joy said. “But what gave you the idea that there’s an elevator involved?”

“What gave me the idea? You’re joking, right?” Ed sneered. “You must be suffering from severe memory loss. All this time we’ve been doing nothing but traveling around on darned elevators. Do you seriously think that this is a coincidence? Modern elevators, small elevators, large elevators, rusty elevators, elevators looking like confessionals …”

“You’re talking garbage.” Joy shook her head. “Well, at least you’ve lost your stammer on the way down.”

For a moment Ed himself seemed to be surprised. “Th-that’s right, dammit.”

“Lucina is behind all of this,” Liv stated.

“Lucina?” Rick wondered. “Who’s Lucina?”

“Shadow Man was originally after Lucina. He somehow mixed up Joy and me with her.”

“What?” Rick pricked up his ears. “He was chasing you all this time?”

“He still is.” Liv’s eyes searched the dark corners of the hall.

“I should have protected you,” Rick said glumly.

“But you did.” Joy walked over to Rick, putting a hand on his shoulder. “Don’t blame yourself.” She stroked the back of his neck. “You showed up in just the right moment.”

Rick hung his head. “I should have wasted him. I usually never miss.”

“I know,” Joy tenderly whispered into his ear. “I know.”

A clatter rang out. The blade had shot from the floor in a spot behind a pillar. Ed cast an envious look at Joy and Rick. “This scarecrow is trying to hunt down the four sinners, methinks.”

“What four sinners are you talking about?” Joy asked.

“There was a message left in a typewriter Rick and I found. The four culprits are ordered to confess.”

Rick nodded. “Allegedly they’re the ones to blame for all of this.”

“We are four,” Joy said.

“There has to be a mixup,” Ed replied. “Or does anyone know what this is all about?”

“Someone’s playing games with us.” Liv pressed the soaked gauze pad to her cheek. When she touched the cut with her tongue, she couldn’t feel anything. The skin had turned numb.

“What might have become of Claas and Kim?” Ed asked. “Four guilty parties, but six lottery winners. It simply doesn’t add up.” He pointed his finger at the granite tiles. “Three, two …” Next time the blade shot up from the floor, it was only 15 feet away from them.

“45 seconds,” Rick said. “I guess we’ll just have to wait for the blade to pop up. Then we’ll take the next step forward and take care to only walk on the tiles. I go first.”

Joy grabbed for his arm to restrain him. “Stop this bullshit. When you walk on the tiles you might trigger another booby trap.”

“I’m going to risk it.”

“Maybe we don’t need to cross this hall at all.” Liv pointed at a bloody handprint on the wall behind them.

“How the hell did it get there?” Ed inspected the print. “Seems to be fresh.”

Joy smiled at Rick. “You nailed the scumbag after all!”

“Yesss! I knew it!” Rick pumped his right fist in the air. The next moment he flinched, holding his belly. For a second his face was a mask of pain.

“What if this lowlife was never here?” Joy asked.

Ed scraped his index finger across the wall. “This is plastic. The brick with the handprint on it is not made of granite—other than the rest of the wall.”

“Maybe it’s a …” Joy was thinking. “In the library where Liv and I just came from, there was a hidden door.”

“It’s worth a try.” Ed pressed against the fake brick. There was a clacking sound. A hatch in the floor creaked open.

“Well, well, well!” Joy said, satisfaction in her eyes.

Rick was staring down into the dark shaft beyond the hatch. “There’s a ladder going down.”

“The rungs are all bloody,” Joy observed. “You must have whacked him good.”

“We need to watch out.” Ed combed back his stringy hair with his fingers. “Nothing’s more dangerous than an injured animal when it feels cornered.”

53

At the bottom of the ladder …

“Look at this! Here we have the chapel.” Ed sat on a chair in front of a control panel. Images transmitted by surveillance cameras flickered across flatscreens.

“The whole place is full of cameras,” Rick panted. He was fighting for breath.

“What’s happening to you?” Joy asked. “There’s obviously something wrong here.”

“Oh, it’s nothing,” Rick answered, his face distorted with pain. “I’ll be fine.” He took a seat at the control panel next to Ed.

“Don’t be silly.” When Joy lifted Rick’s T-shirt she gasped. “This bruise looks horrible.”

“It was a shove I won’t forget so fast.” It hurt Rick just to breathe.

“Mind if I check it out?”

“Better not.” Rick groaned. “There’s definitely something off here.”

“I’ll be very careful.” Joy touched Rick’s belly with her fingertips. “Hard as concrete.”

Rick uttered a tortured laugh. “That’s what you call …” A painful moan. “… being in good shape.”

“I’m not so sure about this.” When Joy gave his belly a short but vigorous jab with her index and middle fingers, Rick screamed with pain.

“Strong muscular defense,” Joy stated. “I’m not a physician and I also don’t want to be all doom and gloom, but you might suffer from some kind of internal bleeding.”

“I’ll live.” Rick moaned. “It wasn’t the first brawl I got into.”

“The masks have to drop for the deceased to have his identity restored to him.” Ed was drumming a tattoo on the control panel with his fingernails, all the while contemplating the images on the screens. The old man in the chapel seemed to be the key player. His facial skin had been peeled off, his portrait obliterated, robbing him of the last shred of identity. But why?

“It’s like looking behind the scenes,” Liv said, pointing at one screen after the other. “Here we have the library, there the carnival, here the glass tunnel. Everything’s under surveillance. Completely.”

“I feel as if … everything’s … going around in circles.” Rick’s head started wobbling from side to side. Joy saved him from falling off the chair by catching him under his armpits at the last moment.

Ed clumsily patted Rick’s back. “What’s the matter, buddy? You were doing just fine a moment ago.”

“Maybe here’s our chance to turn the tables,” Liv said.

“What’re you up to?”

“I’m talking about the red button next to the screens.”

“Emergency Only.” Ed read the writing on the button aloud. “I don’t like this at all. Maybe the trail of blood was planted just to lure us here.”

“You want me to press the button?” Liv said.

Ed stood and walked over to the bulkheads that lead from the operations center. They were both bolted shut. “Oh, man, I don’t think we have a choice.”

Joy nodded yes. “We need to get Rick out of here. No matter what happens we’ll have to risk it.”

“Okay, I’ll do it.” Liv slammed her palm down on the button. A series of clicks resounded. LED-displays above the bulkheads came to life. THE EXIT, the left bulkhead announced. THE TRUTH, the one on the right said.

“A no-brainer, I think.” Ed tested the left bulkhead. It had unlocked. “Let’s go.”

54

THE EXIT

“Holy cow!” Ed exclaimed, his voice filled with excitement. “We’ve really made it. Fucking sh … !”

“It seems to be the real thing,” Joy said. Four rescue capsules just sat there, seemingly waiting for them. The one-person vehicles were fed into a sally port via a system of tracks and disked bulkheads. Joy and Ed carefully deposited Rick on the ground. “The black obelisk … up here … I can’t give up now … ,” he stammered. The next moment he passed out.

“It’s four rescue capsules,” Joy said. “Sadly, two of them don’t have lids.”

“It would have been too nice to be true.” Ed gazed around the evacuation chamber. “Before we pull matches, we ought to find out what starts these things.”

Liv walked over to a control panel, where she activated a touchscreen. “I think we’re having a little problem here.”

Ed read the text on the screen.

Please enter code for emergency evacuation!

“Try 10745,” He suggested.

When Liv typed in the digits nothing happened.

“I’m starting to get worried.” Ed remembered his first attempt to escape when a wave had washed him back inside. And now all his hopes of getting rescued were shattered again.

Joy knelt next to Rick, taking his hand. “We’ll get you out of here, do you hear me?”

Rick came to for a moment, however, his eyes remained closed. “The black obelisk … I need to lead you …”

“Rick’s getting worse,” Joy said. “We have to move him out of here.”

Ed studied the rescue capsules. Tiny windows allowed plain view of the occupant’s face. A display on the outside skin indicated the passenger’s vitals. The capsule was painted in camouflage colors, the logo of GC Military, the world’s largest arms contractor, emblazoned on its hull. It was Ed’s guess that this contraption was equipped with state-of-the-art technology. Whoever had built this rig must have access to confidential research projects. “Do you think that two people can manage to squeeze themselves into one of these thingies?” Ed stroked his belly. “Me and Joy? Lardo meets Twiggy? The perfect match.”

“Forget it.”

“What are we going to do now?” Liv wanted to know.

“In my view,” Ed said, “THE TRUTH is the only way out.”

“You’re talking about the second bulkhead, right?” Liv asked.

Ed nodded yes. “It’s our only option. Just look.”

Joy shook her head. “I can’t leave. Rick needs me.”

“Rick’s our hero,” Liv agreed. “He just wanted to protect me … us.”

“Hero …” Ed sighed. “It was always my dream to be a hero. To be in the limelight, you know. Not having to watch from the sidelines while other guys are posing for the girls. Just that I would have never guessed that things would turn out like this.”

“We leave together,” Liv insisted.

“Are you sure?” Ed smiled.

“Our chances are better if it’s two of us.” Liv adjusted her gauze pads that wouldn’t stay in place.

“In this case let’s go.” Ed tucked in his shirt. The wet denim of his jeans chafed his shins. He craved just a tiny sip of whisky to suppress the itch. Ed smacked his lips without realizing what he was doing. One single shot would have been great.

55

THE TRUTH

“If we find the code and return to the rescue pods,” Liv started, “how do we decide who, which one of us …”

“Maybe the problem will solve itself,” Ed replied. “There’s no telling how many of us will make it.”

“Don’t be such a cynic.”

“But it’s true. Let’s postpone the head count until later.“ Ed peered down the hallway that opened in front of them. The strobing fluorescent lights made it difficult to get one’s bearing.

Liv picked up a doll. “In Lucina’s bedroom there were hundreds of dolls.”

“Why is this guy looking for Lucina?” Ed asked. “And how does it concern us?”

Liv put the doll back down. “He seemed desperate.”

“Desperate? You’re trying to find excuses for this lowlife?” Ed stared at Liv aghast. “I mean, it’s us who have every reason to be bloody desperate.”

“He must have a motive.”

“So what? Who cares?” Ed’s eyes were searching the hallway. The light flickered across his face. “Normally I’m not into this macho-thing, but it somehow feels right to me to go first. Doesn’t mean I’m wild about it.”

“Okay.”

“I was afraid you might say so.”

“You mentioned four guilty parties before,” Liv started. “What did they do?”

“No idea.” Ed marched on. “I mean, is there anyone who has never screwed up in his life? We all make mistakes, especially when we’re young. Be honest, we aren’t saints. But although I don’t believe that there’s a statute of limitations on guilt, you have to let go eventually. To be tormented by your conscience should be punishment enough.” Ed slowed down. “Can you see it, too?” He stopped. “What’s that?” The shadow of a fan moved across a body, prone on the ground. “We need … to turn back … fast …” When Ed reached behind him, Liv had gone. He shuddered. A long black overcoat, clumsy shoes, a wide-brimmed hat. With each revolution the shadow of the fan revealed yet another detail of the motionless figure in front of him.

35 years ago.

Germany, Lake Koenigssee …

Armin had crumpled on the gravel. The strongest boy in Ed’s class was barely hanging on to life. After the sinking of the steamer it had cost him all he had to drag himself ashore. Water washed across the gravel. Armin automatically spat it out. Unmoved, Ed stood next to his classmate, watching the waves that were chasing each other to the shore. He put a foot on the gravel right next to Armin’s head and waited. His footprint filled with water. Armin retched. When Ed withdrew his foot a couple of inches, his shoe created a little groove that led more water in Armin’s direction with every wave.

Still, it wasn’t Ed’s fault if Armin’s chances of survival sank with every second. This groove his shoes made in the gravel had absolutely nothing to do with his classmate, Ed told himself. It was just a game to make the time pass until the rescue team arrived. All they’d find would be a distraught schoolboy, surrounded by drowned children and their dead teacher.

35 years later.

A secret rig in the North Atlantic …

Drops of water were hitting Ed’s nose. The man in front of him was facedown in a pool of blood. Ed poked at him with his shoe. The man didn’t move. Ed turned him over on his back. The man seemed to be wearing something underneath his coat. Ed knelt and unbuttoned the garment. The man had on a bullet-proof vest. A bullet had burrowed into the Kevlar plate. Rick’s shot had hit home, but still the round had been wasted. The man wore a black mask that consisted of hundreds or maybe even thousands of LED-lamps. They were arranged like the compound eye of an insect. Gingerly, Ed peeled the mask off the man’s face.

56

Almost two months ago.

South Africa, Waterberg Massif, 180 miles away from Johannesburg …

Blood oozed from the gunshot wound in the businessman’s forehead. Mike took the money from his wallet to make it look like a robbery. In a few meters distance, in front of a SUV, there were two more bodies on the ground. Mike had shadowed the armored car with its three passengers aboard for almost 200 miles. The person who contracted him had told him that the target was going to meet his paramour in the Waterberg Massif. An assignation that would never take place now.

Mike slid behind the wheel of his GC offroader and made a turn on the dirt road to go back to Johannesburg. Sometimes chance made his job easier. This time it had been the businessman’s weak bladder, which had forced his bodyguards to make an unscheduled stop at the foot of the Waterberg Massif. Mike was an opportunistic killer who struck without batting an eyelid. Two well-aimed shots at the bodyguards waiting next to the car who had mistaken him for a passer-by offering his help. If the men had become suspicious, Mike would have showed them one of his fake IDs. As his silencer was very effective, his target hadn’t noticed a thing. The businessman had been happily zipping up while turning around. His expression still mirrored relief when Mike shot him point-blank.

Mike wondered whether there was a jealous wife behind this job. Maybe she had been tired of her husband’s playing around. However, Mike honestly didn’t care why someone hired him. It was just business as usual, a boring routine. Mike turned up the volume of the radio. South African hip-hop was blaring from the speakers. Sometimes even a contract killer needed the kick of a challenge. And this was what Bob, his next job’s contact, had promised. Mike entered the address of the stewardess he had met on the plane to Johannesburg into his GPS. His flight wouldn’t be before tomorrow morning and there was no way Mike would let a night with Jennifer go to waste. Mike peeled rubber, hoping that Bob would keep his promise and deliver.

Almost two months later.

On a secret rig in the North Atlantic …

Mike hurled the lit windproof lighter at the dummy, which immediately went up in flames. He had to make his death appear as realistic as possible to fool his companions. Looking down from the helipad, the burning dummy would be mistaken for his charred body. Mike pulled off the hood of his coveralls. The fire-resistant material had helped a lot when the flames had been waltzing up the façade. Mike had rappelled down at light speed to minimize exposure. He was fine, apart from chafed palms and a twisted ankle.

The corridor where Mike ducked to hide from view led to the lower operations center of the bogus rig. Here, his costume awaited him in a secret locker: clumsy shoes, making him four inches taller, a long overcoat, an odd hat, and a camouflage mask developed by GC Military. One target was already under his control. Mike had abducted Kim and brutalized her with calculated cruelty. There were three more names on his list. Normally Mike preferred to work quickly and soundlessly. This time, however, the person who hired him wanted him to force a confession out of the subjects. Mike put on his mask and hat. He was beginning to enjoy this intricate plan. This was the challenge he had yearned for a long time.

57

Seven hours later.

Inside the black obelisk …

“Mike!” The mask slipped from Ed’s hand. He touched his chapped lips, not trusting his eyes. “How can this be possible?” He stared at the man in front of him. A shard of glass jutted from his neck. The wound oozed blood. “But you’re …” Ed said. “We saw you burn with our own eyes.”

Mike was wheezing. Instinctively his hands felt for the wound at his neck to stop the bleeding. But his movements were fumbling. Ed yanked the mask off Mike’s face. A cable connected it to a control unit in the inside pocket of his jacket. Ed pocketed mask and control unit. There was an elevator behind the door at the end of the hallway. Mike had tried to reach it with all he had. But why? Ed looked around. Mike didn’t move and Liv had vanished into thin air. Ed pulled open the elevator. He saw only one button:

1st FLOOR

Down was the only way to go. Ed stepped into the open cage and pressed the button. The cage started to creak down. Soon, head-high letters appeared at the wall, growing in number with every foot. Finally, Ed managed to decipher two words that followed him into the abyss like a black shadow:

L

E

X

L

O

V

E

N

B

E

R

G

58

Three weeks ago.

San Diego, USA. A penthouse in the Gaslamp Quarter …

“Do you want to be my hero?” the woman crooned into the man’s ear.

“Lucina,” the man moaned.

“You promised to protect me.”

“I will.”

“To be my hero you need to destroy my enemies.”

The man moved a strand of hair from the woman’s sweaty face. “I don’t understand what you’re up to.”

“The others have to pay for what they’ve done to me and my family.”

“But I don’t want anyone to be killed.”

“Do you trust me?”

“I’ve told you I’d do anything for you.”

“Then you’ll do it for me?”

The man sighed. “Will we be together?”

The woman caressed the back of his neck. “We’ll be together. Until the end.”

The man closed his eyes. He first kissed the woman’s neck, then her lips. “I’d give my life for you if I have to,” he whispered into her ear.

59

Three weeks later.

Inside the black obelisk …

Ed’s fingers touched the mask. He had decided to put it on out of sheer curiosity. Its surface felt soft. It seemed to be light-tight, the fabric enclosing his face like a second skin. Still, Ed had unlimited view of his surroundings because the mask was densely woven and yet transparent. The elevator cage came to a stop. The button indicating “1st Floor” lit up and the door opened. After a moment of hesitation Ed left the cage. In front of him he saw a hall. It was painted in dark hues and devoid of any nuances in regard to color. The columns supporting the vaulted ceiling were the same shade of black as the floor.

“You’ve made it all the way down here.” A tinny female voice filled the hall. “You can drop your mask now.”

Ed’s eyes fell on two coffins. A man and a woman had found their final resting places right in the middle of the hall.

“At my father’s funeral my mother wore a special veil.” The voice came from speakers attached to the columns. “All the guests only had eyes for her. I remember the shock and horror in their faces. I see them as if it had been yesterday. Do you know what kind of veil my mother wore? As red as blood it was. As red as blood, the same color like her dress.”

“Here rests Sayuri von Lovenberg,“ Ed read the inscription on the left-hand coffin aloud.

“My mother never got over the fact that the police didn’t investigate after my father’s death.”

“Here rests Heinrich von Lovenberg,“ Ed read the inscription on the right-hand coffin.

“My father always called me Lucina. Lucina, my little ray of light.”

“So it’s your parents who are entombed here?”

“Don’t insult my intelligence,” the woman retorted. “Don’t pretend you don’t know.”

“Your precise pronunciation reminds me of someone I know,” Ed said in a matter-of-fact voice. “But I don’t understand. It doesn’t make sense. I’ll be glad to introduce you to this other person. Or might she possibly be YOU?” Ed waited for an answer, but the speakers remained silent. “Sayuri … that’s where the Asian influence comes from. Was your mother Japanese?”

“She’s from Osaka.”

“I can’t believe that you’re behind all of this. You’ve fooled me. You’ve fooled all of us. You’re the heiress to GC … I’ve always asked myself who the richest woman of the world might be. What she looks like. What kind of person she is.”

“I’ve never shown my face in public. I wanted to stay an enigma like my father did. An enigma, pulling the strings behind the scenes. Leadership without hero-worship, this has always been our family’s credo.”

Ed removed his mask and tossed it to the ground. The lights arranged and rearranged themselves to patterns, which popped up only to disappear again. Suddenly, the mask turned black. A moment later an old man’s face formed by thousands of LEDs came into view. The man looked at Ed and started to smile. His expression was kind and full of understanding. Next, his cheeks broke out in black spots that devoured the face like flames, eating their way through a portrait. “The portrait on the mask,” Ed began. “The black figure in cloak and hat that was chasing us. The man in the open coffin whose face has been removed. Those are representations of your father, right?”

“My father was overwhelming. An old-school patriarch. As a child I was afraid of him. When he entered a room most of the times I hid. The thumps of his walking stick, the clomping of the heavy shoes he wore because his feet were crippled. He scared me so much.”

“I’m trying … I’m trying to get my head around what’s happening here. The hell I went through. It’s like … are you responsible for Mike’s death?”

“Poor, poor Mike. So brawny and strong and still so useless. I believed him to be the right candidate, but he only turned out to be yet another disappointment in my life.”

“What are you trying to tell me here? Is Mike a contract killer?”

“Mike didn’t finish his job.”

“So it’s true?”

“Don’t you realize who’s just walked into the trap?”

“What are you talking about?” Ed approached the well behind the coffins. There was an inscription on the inside wall:

107

45

Own up to your guilt and save your life!

Ed was able to make out a head below the water. Red hair, an ashen face. “It’s …,” he whispered to himself. It was Claas, no doubt about it. There also was a second body. A woman. Her long blonde hair was floating in the water. “Are these Claas and Kim?”

“Do you want to keep them company? They’ve remained silent. They refused to fess up until the bitter end.”

“Claas and Kim, okay. And I’m supposed to end like this, too? Am I one of the four?”

“Ed, Ed,” the tinny female voice scolded with audible restraint. “Are you still denying your guilt? You keep on lying even in the face of death?”

“This is crazy! I’ve no idea what you’re talking about.”

“Denials won’t save you.”

“Come on, show yourself!” Ed stared into the gloomy vaulted hall.

“It seems that you can’t wait to die.” A woman stepped out from behind a pillar. Her chin was swathed in a net bandage. The gauze pads covering the cut in her cheek were soaked with blood. One of her hands held a briefcase, the other a gun.

“Then it’s really true,” Ed said. “Even though I don’t understand it, it’s still true. In front of me there is Liv von Lovenberg, heiress to the largest corporation worldwide and the most powerful person on earth.”

“The way you say it sounds like an insult.”

“What’s in this briefcase?”

“I think you know.”

“Was the briefcase meant for Mike?”

“The briefcase contains the reward for his efforts.”

“Money?” Ed’s frown was doubtful. “Why should Mike mobilize his last bit of strength, just for money? What good was the dough to him when he was going to clock out down here anyway?”

Liv dropped the case and pushed it over to Ed with her foot. “Look for yourself what’s inside.”

Ed hesitated. “What’s my role in this travesty? Why am I here?”

“How pathetic, Ed. What a pathetic attempt to change the topic. I would have expected more from you. Much more. From a man as intelligent as you are.”

“Bullshit. What is it you exactly want from me?”

“Your answer is the same as unconvincing as your miserable efforts to deflect attention from your crime.”

“Deflect attention? What crime are you talking about?”

“Do you think you can escape my revenge?” Liv raised the gun. “Own up to your guilt and you won’t suffer, I promise.”

“Fuck it, I don’t know what you want from me!”

“My father’s dead!” Liv started to scream hysterically, only to continue in more measured tones: “How did you people kill him? How come it took you only 45 seconds to conspire to commit a murder?”

“We … have … killed … him?” Ed took a step backward. “A conspiracy? Have you totally lost it now? I never even knew your father, dammit!”

“It’s useless to deny it.”

“Hell and damnation, what reason do I have to deny anything?”

“I know everything about you. To me you’re an open book that bores me to death.”

“You know everything about me? Well, I’m getting curious now.”

“You’re nothing but one of those countless pathetic drunks whose minds have been corroded by cynicism. You’ve been divorced twice, being the father of three children. Owing to your IQ of 156 you’re highly functional, but you’re hurting yourself with your toxic sociopathic tendencies. And what else do I see? Might there be a trauma? Does the boating accident on Lake Koenigssee still make you wake up in the middle of the night bathed in sweat?”

“You know about it?”

“How do you think GC became so powerful? By ignorance?”

“The accident … it happened before the internet even existed. You can’t possibly know about it.”

“Are you aware of the assessment your HR officer gives you? Do you want me to tell you what he thinks about you?”

“Bill’s no fan of mine. I’m sure it isn’t very flattering. I also know that the company considers me a vital asset, though.”

“I believe there are many things you don’t know, little pathetic Ed. According to his assessment you have another three years of mileage left. When they’re over your boss will dump you due to your alcohol-induced health problems.”

“Wow … this is … what do I … that’s quite strong stuff.”

“I know you, Ed. I know that you waltzed into the Tower and spent an hour at the party, downing seven shots of whiskey. I know that you later took a taxi home and that you had a good upchuck in front of your door. I knew that you spent the night alone. I know everything about this day.” Liv angrily stomped her foot. “The only thing I don’t know is what happened during the 45 seconds it took you to travel down from the ballroom in this elevator! The cameras inside the cage happened not to record anything that day.”

“Holy shit … three years …?” Ed wiped his chapped lips. “I’m still in good shape. I won’t let anyone put me out to pasture just like this.”

“You’re a wreck, Ed. Just look at you.”

“The pot calling the kettle black. What about your own dossier? What the hell does it say about you?”

“I’m not the issue here.”

“Damn, I don’t even need to see your dossier. Let me guess. A bored upper class princess who’s trying to pay back her ancestors’ debts to society. I’m sure you’ve hosted your share of fundraisers and sat on all the right charity committees, all the while posing as the world’s savior. Amnesty International, maybe? But there still was this hollow empty feeling inside of you, you simply couldn’t shake off. Am I right? You can’t run away from depression. That’s not the way it works.”

Liv shook her head and regarded Ed with a hateful expression. “You don’t know me at all.”

“How old were your parents? Eighty? Ninety? All of us have to die. We’re doomed to bite the dust eventually. But when the Lords of Lovenberg clock out, the whole world has to come to a standstill. Everyone else has to suffer, too. Who do you think you are?”

“What does it look like to you?”

“Do you want all of us to follow the high and mighty Royal Couple into death?” Ed sneered at Liv. “What? Why don’t you speak up? What, do you think, is the right name to call a person who builds something like this place? Oh, by the way, what exactly is it supposed to be? The Pharaoh’s burial chamber? A tomb for the rulers of the world? How would you call the person who built this mausoleum? Full of herself? An unbearable narcissist? Downright crazy? Or maybe a little of each?”

“What happened inside the Tower?” Liv calmly asked, pointing her gun at Ed.

“Where?” Ed was taken aback. “Inside the Lovenberg Tower at Alexanderplatz?”

Liv fired her gun. The shot hit home, Ed crumpled. “Shit … shit.” He was moaning aloud although he didn’t feel any pain. “You got me point-blank, you crazy bitch!”

Liv stepped up closer to Ed. “Confess, or I’ll … you’ll regret the day you were born.” She pressed the muzzle against Ed’s forehead. “Tell me what happened inside the elevator. Tell me what you people did to my father during these 45 seconds.”

“How could you …? Have you gone …? You … you’re disfigured.” Ed held his belly. The gunshot wound oozed blood. “Was this part of your plan? To have Mike turn you into a monster?”

Liv withdrew her gun. “You know nothing about me. Absolutely nothing.”

“This rig … did you …?” Ed gasped for breath. “You built all of this just to get even with the people you hold responsible for your father’s death?”

“Get even with you?” Liv was derisive. “Do you consider yourself that important?”

“I …”

“You’re scum. Dirt under the soles of my shoes.”

“And the others? What about Kim and Claas? Or the fourth person you’re after?”

“You people are just a minor part of my plan. Only the prelude. A tiny, tiny foreplay. You won’t be invited to the grand opening.”

“You just shot at me, you fucking bitch!” Ed gazed at his wound. He lowered his head to the ground. “Armin … destroyers like Armin are never to be allowed to gain influence and power.”

“What are you talking about?”

“Back then, at Lake Koenigssee.”

“Lake Koenigssee? What do you mean by Lake Koenigssee? It happened in Berlin! You committed murder in Berlin!”

“I’m ashamed for what happened. So very ashamed. He was just lying there. Armin was lying at the shore. But you simply must know about this. Did you have drones even back then? Hardly possible … Armin made my life hell for so many years. And then he’s just lying there. Totally helpless … like I’m now.” Ed’s moans turned into a scream, filled with rage. “Do you know why I hate myself? Do you know why I still wake up at night, bathed in sweat? It’s not because I dug a groove into the gravel with my shoe to make Armin drown. That’s not the reason why. No! This sorry excuse for a human being had to die! The bastard tormented me! He fucking took the best years of my childhood away from me. Should I still have saved his life? Would this have been justice? No, it’s something else that makes me ashamed. I’m ashamed because Armin knew me. Yeah, he saw right through me! He knew what a miserable coward I was.” Ed took a labored breath. Blood was oozing through his fingers. He felt like a water-filled balloon that was slowly but surely depleting. Why wasn’t he in pain? “I wanted to help Armin … you know … you simply must know … I changed my mind at the last moment and decided to not let the scumbag die after all. I tried to drag him off the gravel. But it didn’t work. It just didn’t work. I wasn’t strong enough. My muscles didn’t do what I wanted them to. I just managed to lift him a little. It wasn’t enough.” Ed coughed. “Armin died because I was too weak. Can you imagine? Armin had been right all along: I was a loser. And Armin, with his death, proved it to me.”

“It doesn’t make any difference what happened at Lake Koenigssee. Do you think I’m interested in the history of your life? Do you believe you’re any more important than a grain of sand on a beach? My family is the only thing that matters. My legacy!”

“Oh, yes, of course … excuse me! For people like you I’m just pond scum.” Ed’s smile was tortured. “I’ve always believed myself to be a people-hating nihilist, you know? But you definitely give me a run for my money.”

Liv’s head jerked around as if she had heard a noise. With light speed she ducked behind a pillar. “Nice of you to join us. That means we’re complete now.”

60

Five years ago.

Van’t Hoff Tower, Alexanderplatz, Berlin …

„You have to keep out,” the young police officer said. “Forensics haven’t been in yet.”

Joy Van’t Hoff compressed her lips. “I want to see my father.”

The police officer blocked her way. “He’s not a pretty sight.”

“I have to. Please …” Joy looked into the officer’s eyes. “I’m his daughter. Are you listening to me? His daughter.”

Embarrassed, the officer lowered his eyes. “But hurry up, please. And don’t touch … just for a moment … forensics’ll arrive any minute. If they see that I’ve let you … do you understand?”

Joy nodded yes. The policeman moved aside. Joy walked toward her father’s office, part of her wishing that the officer would have held her back. She pictured herself in the young man’s arms, crying and sobbing and pressing her face into his uniform. But she pulled herself together. A trained scientist, Joy was used to take an analytic stance. In a situation like today this training offered relief. There was no room for emotions. People died, this was one of the undeniable facts of life.

The last time Joy had talked to her father on the phone had been a week ago. She couldn’t even remember what the topic of their conversation had been. Very likely, he had once again tried to convince her to quit her job as a biologist to come to work for the bank. It was always the same old song. Her father simply refused to accept that she had chosen a different path in life. “I’ll think about it,” she had said at the end of the call. She also might have used another worn out phrase just to make him shut up. Joy hadn’t been aware of what was happening with her father. How it ate at him that GC had tightened the noose around his neck in the wake of the financial crisis. He was a proud man. His pride was stronger than his will to live. Joy’s knees became wobblier with every step that brought her closer to his office. Her father’s head was resting on his desk. A pool of blood was visible on the floor. The blood had run into the groove in the blotter, which had directed the flow down to the floor like a drainage pipe. Joy hadn’t recognized the signs that he was planning to kill himself. She hadn’t wanted to see them.

A long shadow fell on the desk. Joy looked out of the window. The same spectacle kept on repeating itself every early afternoon. The nearby skyscraper started to block the sun. An invincible monarch, Lovenberg Tower soared over all other buildings. Her father had killed himself for a reason. Joy walked up to the window, gazing at the statue that topped the massive Art déco structure. Death was an undeniable fact of life—but she had choices, one of them being revenge.

61

Five years later.

Inside the black obelisk …

“Have you been eavesdropping for a long time?”

“I’ve heard enough.”

“Then you know who I am.”

“Yes, I do.”

“Kim, Claas, and Ed are already here. We’re complete, now that you’ve joined us.” Liv raised her gun. “Let’s put an end to it.” The door of the elevator was open, but there was no one in the cage.

“Watch out, Joy!” Ed dragged himself across the ground to take shelter between the coffins. He was too weak to pick himself up from the floor. Blood was oozing from his gunshot wound. “Liv is carrying!”

“Did you really think I’d let you get away with it?” Liv moved between the rows of columns without making a sound. “Did you believe you could escape the revenge of the Lovenbergs?”

“The revenge of the Lovenbergs?” Joy’s voice echoed through the hall. She had ducked behind one of the many pillars. “When did the Lovenbergs start passing verdicts?”

“I demand justice,” Liv replied. “Justice for my father.”

“And that’s why you have decided to play judge?”

“My father got on the elevator alive and traveled down with you people. 45 seconds later he was dead.”

“And how do you want to prove that we are responsible for his death?”

“It’s the only explanation.”

“And if we’re innocent?”

“Innocent?” Liv laughed. “You’re anything but.”

“Just thinking about how you glommed on to me, still makes me want to puke. How you worked me to gain my trust.”

“I wanted to get the truth out of you. I know you’re capable of a crime like this. You’re clever and callous and you had a motive.”

“I’m callous?”

“You sacrificed everything for your research. Even your children.”

“Child … don’t you dare use this word!”

“You aborted your children.”

“They were fetuses. You know this as well as I do. They weren’t viable yet.”

“If this is what you want to believe.”

“What about you? How many deaths did your corporation cause? Or is it only Lovenberg lives that count in your book?”

“Yes, it’s right. You’re right. We’re two callous women.”

“Forget it! We have nothing in common. Absolutely nothing.”

“Both of us have disappointed our fathers.”

“The same old song again? Aren’t you getting tired of rehashing the subject?”

“You were luckier than I was when picking your team. Both Claas and Kim refused to talk. They didn’t say a word. Up to the moment of their deaths they never gave you away. Even Ed stayed mum. I never would have figured that he had in him to keep your secret.”

“My team? How stupid can a person be? Whatever gave you the idea that I even knew the others?”

“It’s the only explanation that makes sense.”

“When and where am I supposed to have met them? Show me the photos! Put your evidence on the table!”

“You must be dreaming. GC doesn’t wield that much power. We can’t have everything under surveillance.”

“Do you know why nobody talked? Because they didn’t know anything. You tried to force confessions out of innocent people, goddammit!”

“I didn’t!” Liv screamed. “All of you are guilty. Everyone who shared the elevator with my father.”

“If you want to get even with someone so much, take me.”

“What? Then you admit that you’re guilty?” Liv waited for an answer, but Joy didn’t speak. “How did you know that my father was going to use the public elevator that day? Did you have inside informers who told you that his private elevator was under maintenance?”

“You’re looking for answers where there aren’t any,” Joy said. “I can understand you. After my father’s suicide I did the same thing.”

“Does this mean I’m right?”

“Do you have any idea how much it hurt me to see your logo on the façade of our bank building? Can you imagine what a blow it was back then when I saw the letters GC on our family’s skyscraper on my way to this party four years ago?”

“Finally! Finally you’re talking! Such a long time I’ve waited for the truth to reveal itself.”

“It wasn’t planned. I just let it happen. One year after my dad killed himself.”

“How did you know what my father looked like? He never showed his face in public.”

“My father knew Heinrich von Lovenberg from the time they were in university together. They were in the same year,” Joy replied. “The orthopedic shoes, the long old-fashioned overcoat, my father described them to me more than once. When I saw this old man in the elevator, I just knew that it had to be him. I had been invited to the ball in the Tower because they wanted to thank me for the results of the research I did for GC Biofuels. Can you believe it? One year after my father’s death I received an award by the very company that had made him kill himself. Someone else but me probably wouldn’t have gone. Doesn’t this show what a rationally minded person I am? I have my hatred under control. A photo of me on the cover of the company magazine would be useful to raise additional research funds, that’s what I thought. I never figured that I would run into God himself. When I got on the elevator your father just stood there. I was totally dumbstruck … and also disappointed. He was just an old man. No charisma.”

“Quick, grab the suitcase, Joy!” Ed called from somewhere in the back.

Liv’s finger curled around the trigger. “My father was a great man. The greatest of them all.”

“He was weak,” Joy said.

“My father was ill. He had just survived his third heart transplant surgery.” Liv took a step closer to the pillar where she suspected Joy to be hiding. “Claas, Ed, Kim, and you got together on the same elevator as he did.”

“This was four years ago. I don’t remember the people I was on the elevator with. I couldn’t have cared less. You claim it was Claas, Kim, and Ed? Possible. I honestly don’t know. I only had eyes for him. It was electrifying to be so close to the richest man of the world. This enigma you read about all the time but never got to know.”

“My father didn’t care for publicity. Just the opposite. He hadn’t been out in public for over twenty years.”

“What a weirdo freak! Hard to believe that a guy like him was at the head of a multinational corporation.”

“My father used to take his personal elevator, however, this evening he didn’t.”

“I noticed that he wasn’t feeling well.”

“Say that again.”

“He was leaning heavily in a corner, against the wall of the cage, as if he needed to support himself. Next thing I saw was that he started to dig in his pocket. I remember very clearly. Suddenly, his trembling fingers held a pill bottle.”

Liv took another step toward the pillar. “My father had to take medication for his new heart.”

“When he dropped the bottle to the floor he just froze.”

“What did you do to my father …?” Liv clamped her eyes shut as if not to see the pictures her imagination was producing. “What happened next? Did you just …?”

“I simply let it happen. Just like this … I stood there and watched … like an experiment … yes, an experiment in a lab, that’s the best way to describe it. I only looked on and didn’t do anything. The other passengers didn’t even realize that your father was fighting for his life. They were staring at the screen above the door where the floors were counted down. There was some stupid GC commercial playing, I think. Same thing like aboard the chopper shortly before the crash. Music blasted from the speakers. Pictures of beautiful people leading perfect lives, thanks to GC. Your father clocked out, surrounded by senior employees of his own company. The scene was almost surreal. And then … he lowered his eyes. The pill bottle was on the ground in front of him. The old geezer had a lot of self-discipline. I found it strange that he didn’t even try to get help.”

“My father was a proud man. I’m sure he didn’t want to show any weakness in front of others.”

“My father was a proud man, too,” Joy said bitterly. “I wasn’t thinking of revenge in this moment … it just happened … I can’t explain why. I simply lifted my left foot and covered the bottle with my shoe.”

“What did you do?”

“I placed my foot on top of the pill bottle. No idea whether your father still was in a position to notice. He was beyond help, I think. Nobody could have done anything. His eyes had rolled back. You could only see the whites. He didn’t utter a sound. His muscles had turned rigid from pulling himself together. Maybe he even died on his two feet. No idea. 45 seconds, you said? To me it felt a lot longer. Finally, the elevator stopped, the others got off. I was the last one to leave the cage. From the corner of my eye I saw him still standing there when the door closed again. Such an iron will. Until death.”

“Go get the briefcase, Joy!” Ed hollered. “You need to take the case away from Liv!”

“My father would still be alive if you had helped him!” Liv screamed. “Oh, my God! You’ve just confessed that you’re responsible for his death! Mama, did you hear it?” Liv looked over to her mother’s coffin. “You were right, father was murdered! You were right all along.” Liv felt a draught of air behind her. A sudden blow hit the back of her neck. Paralyzed by blinding pain, she dropped both briefcase and gun. She started to stagger, lost her balance, and finally crumpled.

“The game’s up.” Joy picked up the gun.

“The briefcase!” Ed yelled. “Take the fucking case!”

Joy bent down to retrieve it. “What’s in there?”

“I don’t deserve this.” Liv’s net bandage had slipped, taking the gauze pads with it. She was crouching on the floor, feeling drowsy. Her injured cheek trembled when she spoke. “I don’t deserve something like this. I’ve always tried to help others. Was it my fault to be born rich? I never wanted to be an heiress. In Singapore, far away from here, everything was fine. For a short time I was able to escape this overwhelming responsibility that was weighing me down. Wonderful fleeting moments. What sense does all of this make? You’ve killed your children, while I can’t have any. I’m rolling in money, but I’m unable to get pregnant. Where is the logic? Can I do anything about it? Nothing counts any longer. Game over. My family has been destroyed, the bloodline is severed.”

“You’re absolutely right,” Joy replied coldly, raising the gun. “And now the last of the Lovenbergs is going to join her ancestors.”

A siren resounded. The ululating signal shrilled through the hall four times. “Yesss!” Liv panted, her disfigured face mask of madness. “And I’ll drag all of you down with me!”

62

Eleven months ago.

Berlin, Alexanderplatz, Lovenberg Tower …

When the man at the conference table passionately waved his arms, the dot of the laser pointer began flitting all over the image. A portico painted in drab colors was projected onto the wall. “With a budget like this I’ll be able to create a fantastically realistic atmosphere,” the man enthused. “I’ll use scripted events to drive forward the plot.”

“Scripted events?” a skinny man in his sixties repeated. Index finger on cheek, he gazed at the game producer’s display with reservation.

“The idea behind it works as follows.” The producer put the laser pointer down on the table. “When a player reaches a certain place, when a switch is thrown … a light barrier is crossed, or a button is pressed, the pre-designed plot starts rolling.”

“Haven’t you ever gamed, Bob?” Liv von Lovenberg was seated at the head of the table. She threw him an amused smile.

“I’m not interested in computer games.” Bob was miffed.

The producer’s brows went up. “You missed out on something, my friend.”

“I want you to create a nightmarish atmosphere,” Liv continued. “The players need to experience the innermost fears of a fictional protagonist. They will have to go through the same hell as this person did. Did I make myself clear? What I want is a tableau of horrors and painful memories.”

“I can’t thank you enough for approaching me, Frau von Lovenberg.” The producer was beaming like a schoolboy who has just received an award. “All these things can be done, of course.”

Liv made a tent with her fingers. “I don’t want the players to suspect that there’s something off.”

“Of course, of course.” The producer bobbed his head. “It can be arranged. Multiple-track plot lines create the illusion of complexity. Your friends will never realize that they’re being led around by their noses.”

“They need to be afraid,” Liv insisted. “I want mortal fear. They have to go through hell.”

“Fake blood, optical effects, a threatening soundtrack. I guarantee you an outstanding performance.”

“Not everything can be faked,” Bob interjected. His radiant blue eyes had a cold shine to them. “We’ll use real bodies.”

“Real bodies?” The producer frowned in confusion. “What are you talking about?”

Liv waved him off. “Bob was just joking.” She laughed. “Latex dummies will suffice.”

The producer took a breath of relief. “Don’t worry. Everything’ll be absolutely realistic. Your friends’ll never know. With a budget like this you’ll get all the works.”

“The scene’s ready for action,” Bob said. “We have three obelisks, two of them below water. The crypt is located in the lower obelisk. Everything above water-level’s made up to look like an oil rig.” Bob glanced over to the man in the suit, sitting next to the game producer. “Will you be able to deliver?”

The man took off his glasses and started to chew on the ear piece, lost in thought. “Eleven months … that’s very little time.”

“You’ll have access to unlimited resources,” Bob replied.

“Well, from an engineer’s point of view there shouldn’t be a problem. We’ll deploy a three-chamber float. In the final scene the black obelisk will sink to the bottom of the Atlantic.”

“I have to admit that I still don’t quite understand the setup,” the producer said.

“Think of a three-stage rocket,” the engineer answered. “With every initiation, a stage of the rocket is blown off. It works more or less the same with our rig, just that the whole thing takes place not in space but below water.”

“Thank you, gentlemen,” Liv said with an appreciative nod. “All of this sounds very promising. Bob will discuss the details with you. And don’t you forget that you’re bound to strict confidentiality. I want my friends to have the surprise of their lives.” Liv waited until the two men had left the meeting room, before she continued. “What’s happening with the lottery?”

“Everything is ready,” Bob replied. “The tickets have been doctored.”

“The winners aren’t ever to reach the yacht.”

“I was thinking in terms of a helicopter crash.”

“Sounds interesting.”

“However, there’s still one open question: What, if there really was a conspiracy? The four of them might already have known each other all along, even though our investigation didn’t come up with anything. Won’t they think it strange that they’ve all won the lottery?”

“That’s exactly what I’m getting at. I want to draw them out. Whatever they’ll talk about, we’ll be able to listen in.”

“You’ll need help aboard the rig.”

“Two men will do.”

“Is there anyone special you have in mind?”

“One of them has to do the dirty work. The executioner.”

Bob was thinking. “I believe I know just the right man for the job. I’ve worked with him in the past.”

“And then I’ll need another one who’s loyal and honest. A companion for me. His job will be to protect me no matter what happens. I don’t want him to know the entire plan, though.”

“This sounds like a kind of Marine.”

“It wouldn’t hurt if he were good looking, too. His skills shouldn’t be limited to just being a bodyguard. Because … well … we’ll be getting very cozy with each other …”

“I understand.”

“Find a man with a strong protective instinct. Do a preliminary vetting, I’ll take a look at their dossiers. One more thing: He shouldn’t be too smart, lest he’ll see through the whole thing.”

“I’ll look for suitable candidates.”

“The obelisk at the bottom of the Atlantic is a legacy, Bob. The legacy of the Lovenbergs.”

“I remember how the ancient Pharaohs fascinated you when you were a little child. You were able to read the inscriptions on the tombs and to decipher all the hieroglyphs.”

“The Pharaohs built their pyramids for the whole world to see. The empire of the Lovenbergs, however, doesn’t need any conspicuous symbols. The obelisk will be invisible, hidden deep in the ocean. A structure that outlasts the millenniums, untouched by man. No one will loot this burial chamber. The blood line was severed, but the legacy of the Lovenbergs will prevail at the bottom of the sea until the end of time.”

“This edifice will make the Lovenberg name immortal.”

Liv nodded absently. “Bob?”

“Yes?”

“You’d better get these bodies you’ve mentioned, after all. I want everything to be as realistic as possible.”

63

Eleven months later.

Inside the black obelisk …

“Why didn’t you shoot her?” Ed sat up, leaning his back against the coffin of the patriarch, Heinrich von Lovenberg. His complexion was ashen. He pressed his hand against his belly, his strength waning. Blood continued to seep through his fingers.

“I can understand her somehow.” Joy knelt next to him. “She’s trying to make sense of everything that’s happened.”

“Where did she go?” Ed asked.

“She just vanished quick as light. A hidden door in one of the columns.”

“What might she be up to?”

“Nothing good.” Joy eyed Ed doubtfully. “Are you going to hold up?”

“I think this fucking bullet got my liver.”

“Are you in pain?”

“That’s one of the advantages of being a drunk,” Ed said. “There’s nothing but scar tissue left.”

“Cut out these stupid jokes.”

“Why? The last laugh’ll be on me anyway. Unless we hope for a miracle.”

“I’m sorry for getting you involved.”

“I’d have never thought you had in you.” Ed wiped the snot from his nose. “It needed an Armin to triumph over an Armin.”

“Where are Claas and Kim?”

“Back there, in the well.”

“Dead?”

“Drowned.” Ed peered over Joy’s shoulder. “What did you do with Rick?”

“I left him at the rescue capsules.” Joy lowered her eyes. “He isn’t doing very well.”

“Will he make it?”

“I don’t know.”

“I hope he pulls through.”

“He needs to go to a hospital.”

“Hospital … in my case it’s too late for that.”

“Stop this bullshit.”

“Just look how my gut’s gushing blood. As if someone had pulled a plug. Well, I’m not in pain, at least. That’s the only thing that counts. No pain. I’ll just sit here until it’s over.”

“You can’t give up.”

“You and Rick, you can still make it.” Ed glanced in the direction of the briefcase. “This case has to be the way out. That’s why Mike desperately wanted it.”

“Mike’s dead in front of the elevator.”

“I know. He dressed up as old man Lovenberg. As a nightmarish version of Heinrich. Liv must have been scared shitless of her father.”

“She was scared of him and also loved him.”

“Liv hired Mike to torture and kill us. Can you imagine?”

“Meanwhile I can.” Joy snapped open the locks of the case.

“I knew right away that I’ve met you before,” Ed said. “You’re a very beautiful woman. With eyes full of life. I simply didn’t remember that it happened at this party. This was four years ago. Time is fleeting. What an irony that the evening of my biggest professional success also was the beginning of my demise.”

“There’s an eight-digit number.”

“What?”

Joy removed a card from the case. “Eight digits.”

“Do you know what this means? Damn! The rescue capsules. It has to be the evacuation code.”

Joy frowned. “It might also just be a trap. Liv has been toying with us the entire time. There’s no telling what she’s up to now.”

“No, no, no. Mike was after this case like his life depended on it. He dragged himself to the elevator with his last ounce of strength, trying to travel down. He didn’t go to the capsules straight away—because he first needed the code.”

“Are you sure?”

Ed looked up. The ceiling was dripping water. “Pressure’s increasing. You don’t have much time left.”

“I won’t abandon you.”

“It’s okay.”

“It’s my fault that you got into this. If I’d only said something back then … if I’d helped Heinrich von Lovenberg …”

“You still don’t get it, do you? It wouldn’t have made a difference.”

“I deserve my fate, you and the others don’t.”

“Why don’t you understand? For Liv we’re just pond-scum. Our lives weren’t worth a dime, once Heinrich von Lovenberg had clocked out. The one and only reason being that we happened to ride the same elevator he did. It wouldn’t have changed anything, even if you’d helped him. Liv would have still blamed us for his death.”

“Do you really think so?”

“Actually, Liv doesn’t care about us at all. She doesn’t give a shit. She’s obsessed with this bloodline-thing. We’re nothing but decoration.”

“What are you talking about?”

The hall vibrated with a blood-curdling screech. It sounded like many tons worth of steel grinding against each other.

“We’re sinking,” Joy said, her eyes widening. “We’re going down to the bottom of the Atlantic.”

“Run!” Ed screamed. “Quick, before it’s too late!”

64

At the rescue capsules …

Joy looked around herself. It sounded like footsteps. Had Liv followed her? Joy peered into the capsule where Rick was slumped in his seat. His eyes were closed and he was slipping in and out of consciousness. It hadn’t been easy for Joy to hoist him into the one-man cabin.

“I have to protect you,” Rick mumbled, delirious with fever.

“Everything’s fine,” Joy tried to assure him.

“I need to … need to …” Rick shook his head, driven by inner turmoil. “I have to protect you.”

“It’s okay.” Joy shut the capsule’s cover. “Just a moment and you’ll be safe!” she called through the safety-glass. She walked over to the control panel, activated the touchscreen’s display, and entered the eight-digit code. Emergency lights started to rotate. A computerized voice filled the chamber that was suddenly bathed in a red glow:

“Two minutes until evacuation.

The countdown starts … now.”

Joy crawled into the last capsule that was still intact, pulling the lid shut. Safety instructions lit up over her head. Joy fastened the two seatbelts and held on to the bracket with both hands to brace herself against the acceleration, like the instructions told her to do. Then, she looked up through the window. Red patches of light were moving across the ceiling. If Liv chose this moment to show up, Joy would be at her mercy.

“Sixty seconds!

Board the rescue capsules at once!”

The lights inside Joy’s cabin went out. For a moment, it was deathly quiet. Suddenly, Joy noticed a scorching smell. Something hissed. Sparks were flying. Smoke billowed through the cabin.

“Thirty seconds …”

The smoke became denser. Joy pulled at the lever where a sign said “Emergency Exit”. The lid was blown off and Joy was catapulted from the capsule, gasping for breath.

“Ten, nine, eight …”

Joy ran over to Rick. His capsule seemed to be fine. Rick was frantically shaking his head. A conveyor belt started to carry the capsule toward a disked bulkhead. “Soon you’ll be free!” Joy knocked against the massive safety-glass of the window. “Did you hear me? Hang on! In a moment you’ll be out of here!”

“… three, two, one …

Evacuation sequence starts now!”

Rick opened his eyes. He looked around himself in confusion until his eyes fell on Joy’s face. He stared into her eyes and didn’t seem to understand what was going on. In the same moment the bulkhead opened. The capsule was shot into a shaft like a torpedo. The bulkhead slammed shut.

“LUCINA! NOOO!!!” Rick screamed. But the woman left behind in the black obelisk couldn’t hear him.

65

Three weeks ago.

San Diego, USA. A penthouse in the Gaslamp Quarter …

The muscular man walked into the kitchen. He was nude. “Where are you? I miss you.” He pulled the woman close, kissing her throat. “Come back to bed.”

The woman put down her phone on the kitchen counter. “This was Bob. He wanted to discuss details of the plan.”

“Bob, always Bob. What about me?”

“What do you think?” The woman put her arms around the man. “You’re the most important person in my life.”

“I want to protect you.”

“In this case you’ll have to fight my enemies.”

“But I don’t understand what you’re up to. We’re happy the way it is now.”

“Do you love me?”

“I love you.”

“Be my hero. You have to lead the four of them into the black obelisk.”

“I just want to protect you.”

“So do it. But you have to help the others to find the way down.”

“I don’t want anyone to get hurt.”

“You won’t be allowed to show your feelings for me. Nobody is to know that we’re an item. I’ve been taking acting classes. I’ll go through the possible scenarios with you. We can’t leave anything up to chance.”

“Does it really mean so much to you to pay them back?”

“Always remember who they are. And how much they’ve hurt me.”

The man hung his head. “I’ll be at your side, Lucina. Until the end.”

Tenderly, the woman caressed the back of the man’s neck. “Rick,” she breathed into his ear. “You’re the love of my life.”

66

Three weeks later.

Inside the black obelisk …

“What are you doing here?” Ed looked up. “Why the hell did you come back?”

Joy sat next to Ed. “This place reminds me of the Titanic. Lots of steel, but not enough life boats.”

“And Rick?”

“He got away.”

“Thank God.” Ed pensively gazed at the water washing across the base plate. “Rick’s the best person of us all.”

Joy nodded. “He deserved to get out.”

Ed started laughing.

“What’s so funny?” Joy asked.

“Just look at the coffins.”

“So?”

“The logo on them.”

“GC …”

“The slogan’s very fitting. Global Companion will really accompany you from the cradle to the grave.”

The vaulted ceiling opened. When Joy and Ed raised their heads, an object dropped down into the hall on steel cables.

“What’s this?” Joy asked.

“Looks like something Egyptian.”

“Do you think it is …”

“Yes, it’s a sarcophagus.”

With a thunderous bang the sarcophagus merged with the two stone coffins of Heinrich and Sayuri von Lovenberg.

Ed rubbed his eyes. “Can you read what it says on the sarcophagus?”

“’This is the final resting place of Liv von Lovenberg.’“

„What? Does this mean …? Do you think Liv’s really inside this thing?”

“I wouldn’t put it past her. She was very depressive, if you ask me. To her, life must have been absolute hell.”

Ed looked up to Joy. “And what about us?”

“What do you mean?”

“You’d rather be with Rick now.”

“Rick?”

“Well, instead of me. You’d kiss. Totally rapt. And then you’d float down to the bottom of the Atlantic, locked in a passionate embrace.”

Joy shook her head. “Since when have you become a romantic?”

“At least I know what a happy ending is supposed to look like.”

“Happy ending?”

“What’s left of a person anyhow?”

“You’ve got three children. That’s what will be left of you.”

“Right. In Liv’s book I’m a winner.”

“And how do you feel?”

“I’ve a bullet in my gut.”

“Rick is a dream, you know? He’s just too good to be true.”

“If Rick’s a dream, what am I? Reality? Ugly, boozed up, foul mooded reality?”

Joy just smiled. “Is it going to be fast when the water comes?” She glanced at the ceiling. How many feet below water-level were they?

“Actually, we’ll burn … well … if you must know … yes, it’s going to be fast.”

“When will the water be here?”

“It can’t be long now.”

A siren resounded. The shrill ululating sound filled the hall and was repeated five times.

Ed shook his head. “Maybe I’d better shut up.”

Heavy slabs of steel slid across the entrance of the elevator, effectively sealing the hall with a bang.

“What’s going on here?” Joy asked.

“No idea …”

The wall left of them opened with a crunch, revealing a gallery. The line of the family’s ancestors who had amassed influence and world power over centuries was depicted on the wall in hieroglyphs. It was the family line of the Lovenbergs and ended with a name spelled out in Latin script: Liv von Lovenberg.

“A severe case of overrating oneself,” Joy stated.

“This woman is the born drama queen.”

Next, the wall right of them slid back. A corridor contained a row of hundred larger-than-life golden warriors, their swords pointing to the ground.

“An escort to eternity,” Joy said. “Like in the imperial tombs of China.”

“This show’s starting to become Hollywoodesque. What a crazy mixture of styles. First Art déco, then a touch of Classicism, then Egyptian, now Chinese. I’m curious what comes next.” Ed lifted his hand off his belly, taking a deep breath.

“Are you still holding up?” Joy asked.

“My motivation is kind of limited,” Ed replied. “But I don’t want to miss out on the action.”

67

Fifteen minutes later.

Berlin, Alexanderplatz, Lovenberg Tower …

“The deed is done.” Bob glanced at his watch, where the GC logo reappeared beneath the second-hand. “The obelisk is now anchored at the bottom of the Atlantic.”

There was an uncomfortable silence around the conference table. Only one man looked up. “What’s going to become of us?”

Bob removed his watch, carefully placing it on the table top. “Your destiny is not in the company’s hands any longer.”

“But the heiress, she can’t just … Bob!”

Bob rubbed his left wrist, where the watch had left behind deep gouges. “From now on it’ll be Herr Bernhard Otto Blucher to you.” He exaggerated the initials of his name: B.O.B.

“But Bo … Herr Bernhard … this is … it can’t be handled like this …”

“You still don’t seem to understand.” Bernhard Otto Blucher started to smile. “Frau von Lovenberg doesn’t have any children. She was the last of the von Lovenbergs. This plan is her legacy.”

“The plan to destroy the company?” The man cast a helpless look around the table. Everyone present had lowered their eyes. “Am I the only one to see that this is just crazy? It would be plain madness to run GC into the ground! Are you aware of the consequences? We’ll have a worldwide recession of so far unknown dimensions!”

“If you cannot have something, destroy it,” a member of the group mumbled to himself. “So far we’ve wiped out every company we weren’t able to buy up. Are we now going to turn our own strategy against ourselves?”

“Correct.” Bernhard Otto Blucher nodded. “The Lovenbergs can’t own GC any longer …”

“ … but … ?”

“ … therefore GC must be destroyed. This is in perfect compliance with Lex Lovenberg.” Bernhard Otto Blucher rose. “The heiress has devised it in her will. And this is how it shall happen. She was the last of the von Lovenbergs, and I am her right hand.”

68

In the North Atlantic, 180 miles off the Scottish coast …

The capsule was lowered onto one of the three helipads aboard the yacht Love One. Two men in white coveralls proceeded to undo the holding cables. The Sea Stallion veered away.

“The guy doesn’t look too good,” one of the men said, as the noise of the chopper’s rotor died away.

His companion peered through the capsule’s window. “You’re right. He’s white as a sheet.”

“But we can’t get to him.”

“What a hassle … he needs pressure-equalizing.”

“If the capsule’s opened too soon, the air in his blood vessels’ll bubble over like an uncapped water bottle. That would be the end of him.”

“The guy doesn’t look like the one who’s supposed to be coming.”

“What?”

“Just look at his face.”

“He looks like shit. I don’t see anything else.”

“What are we going to do?”

“Let’s get him to the decompression chamber.”

“Who’s on duty?”

“John.”

“He’s a trained medic.”

“John’s the only one who can save him.”

“One week. That’s how long he’ll have to hang on, before we can move him to the sick-bay.”

“Look at this.”

“What?”

The man gazed across the railing. His face was bathed in a reddish glow. “This sunset. Downright awesome!”

The other man nodded. “Not bad.”

“You gotta love this job, you know? Where else you get a view like this for free?”

Heartfelt thanks to all who have supported me during the publishing process of this novel, especially my wonderful crew: Ingo, Michael, Sylvia, Ilona, Janet, and my dear mother. In memoriam to my dear father, Fritz Krepinsky.

I also send a huge thank you to my Lovelybooks rounds! It’s so great sharing with you!

In memoriam Franziska Pigulla, who has recited my novel Spreeblut with so much passion.

Best regards to everyone at “Goodies”, “Westberlin”, “Oslo”, “Kala”, and all the other Berlin cafés, where I hung out to write. SomaFM Dronezone is and will always be the best musical background when in my own (rental) home.

Like always I’m tremendously grateful to my readers, who have awarded me, an independent writer, with their trust. If you have questions or suggestions, please write to: info@nichtdiewelt.de.

Take care and stay safe!

Karsten Krepinsky

The author

Karsten Krepinsky is a German author and lives in Berlin. He holds a PhD in biology. When not working for a start-up company in the field of neurosciences, his passion is to write mystery, sci-fi, and horror novels. A great source of inspiration to Karsten is the vibrant city of Berlin.

The translator

Karin Dufner, holder of an M.A. in American literature, has been working as a translator of fiction since 1989, seeing herself as a wanderer between the English and the German language. Her bibliography encompasses around 400 titles. Her ivory tower is located in the Düsseldorf area, Germany.

The cover designer

Ingo Krepinsky is co-founder and manager of the Bremen, Germany based design agency Die Typonauten. He studied communication design at the University of the Arts Bremen and the University of Applied Sciences and Arts Hannover. He has won several design contests such as “iF communication design award”, “The German Design Award” (nominated) or “Stiftung Buchkunst” (best designed books). The design performance and font work of Die Typonauten are consistently presented in international journals. The foundry was selected as German independent type foundry for “Typography, Referenced – A Comprehensive Visual Guide to the Language, History, and Practice of Typography”, a publication of Rockport Publishers.

KARSTEN KREPINSKY

Copyright (c) 2019 by Karsten Krepinsky

About the Book

For all those who love the unexpected …

“If you cannot have something, destroy it.” Lex Lovenberg

Prologue

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Heartfelt thanks to all who have supported me during the publishing process of this novel, especially my wonderful crew: Ingo, Michael, Sylvia, Ilona, Janet, and my dear mother. In memoriam to my dear father, Fritz Krepinsky.

The author

The translator

The cover designer

Table of Contents

KARSTEN KREPINSKY

Copyright (c) 2019 by Karsten Krepinsky

About the Book

For all those who love the unexpected …

“If you cannot have something, destroy it.” Lex Lovenberg

Prologue

1

2

3

4

5

6

7

8

9

10

11

12

13

14

15

16

17

18

19

20

21

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52

53

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55

56

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62

63

64

65

66

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68

Heartfelt thanks to all who have supported me during the publishing process of this novel, especially my wonderful crew: Ingo, Michael, Sylvia, Ilona, Janet, and my dear mother. In memoriam to my dear father, Fritz Krepinsky.

The author

The translator

The cover designer