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Back The Woman on the Stairs Save as PDF
Chapters (83)
  1. Cover
  2. Also by Bernhard Schlink
  3. Title Page
  4. Copyright
  5. Part One
  6. 1
  7. 2
  8. 3
  9. 4
  10. 5
  11. 6
  12. 7
  13. 8
  14. 9
  15. 10
  16. 11
  17. 12
  18. 13
  19. 14
  20. 15
  21. 16
  22. 17
  23. 18
  24. 19
  25. 20
  26. 21
  27. 22
  28. 23
  29. 24
  30. 25
  31. 26
  32. Part Two
  33. 1
  34. 2
  35. 3
  36. 4
  37. 5
  38. 6
  39. 7
  40. 8
  41. 9
  42. 10
  43. 11
  44. 12
  45. 13
  46. 14
  47. 15
  48. 16
  49. 17
  50. 18
  51. 19
  52. 20
  53. 21
  54. 22
  55. 23
  56. 24
  57. 25
  58. Part Three
  59. 1
  60. 2
  61. 3
  62. 4
  63. 5
  64. 6
  65. 7
  66. 8
  67. 9
  68. 10
  69. 11
  70. 12
  71. 13
  72. 14
  73. 15
  74. 16
  75. 17
  76. 18
  77. 19
  78. 20
  79. 21
  80. 22
  81. Author’s Note
  82. ABOUT THE AUTHOR
  83. What’s next onyour reading list?

“But she’s an illegal. She entered the country as a tourist, and did not sort out anything – residency permit, work permit, citizenship, health insurance, nothing. We haven’t tracked down where she’s been for the past twenty years or what she’s been doing. Today she lives on the coast, north of here – three, four hours away. She must have money in Germany, she pays with a German credit card. That is why she’s slipped through the net. If she had worked here and opened a bank account and ordered a credit card, she would have needed to present papers she didn’t have.”

“What name does she go by?”

“Irene Adler. Her maiden name and a name that sounds good in both languages, English and German. I hear her English is perfect.”

“What do you know about her connection to the art gallery?”

“She offered the curator her painting, and he accepted. He did some research and didn’t see any problems. The painting is mentioned in an early catalogue of Karl Schwind’s work, and isn’t on the international registry of stolen art. Since then other museums have shown an interest, and the New York Times wrote a long article about the rediscovered masterpiece.”

It sounded as though his agency had found someone at the art gallery who had abused the curator’s trust and had looked into his files; and they had then looked into the immigration agency files; and finally asked around where Irene Gundlach lived. I had hoped for more. I had hoped I would learn where she had lived, how she was living now, who she was now. At the same time I knew that hope was foolish. I had not asked for that, just whether the picture belonged to her, and if she lived in Australia.

I took down the address, Red Cove in Rock Harbour, thanked him, and paid. On the way to the hotel I bought a pair of cotton trousers, a pair of linen trousers, shorts, and shirts. The hotel found me a rental car, and after I had packed and thanked them, I paid and set off.

25

I could still have made it to Rock Harbour on Monday. After I had survived a couple of close scrapes as I made turns, or passed, I adjusted to driving on the left. I drove elatedly, first on a six-lane motorway, and then on a two-lane road that sometimes hugged the coast, sometimes diverged from it. And suddenly my courage vanished.