“Can you find Irene?”

“What do they want?”

“I don’t know. But she should know that the helicopter was here.”

He nodded, turned around and ran away – swift, smooth, effortless. I watched and listened to him go until he disappeared into the trees on the mountain. For a moment, it was quiet. Again I heard the waves rustle back through the pebbles into the sea. I closed my eyes against the sun.

Then the helicopter came back. First I heard it, then I saw it. It flew towards the old house, where I stood under the roof, hung in the air, sank and set down on the jetty. Again it churned up the sea. Then the motor died, and the helicopter let its rotor blades hang down. The pilot descended and helped the passenger out. An old, gaunt man with a cane, but with full, white hair, an upright posture, and confident movements. Gundlach.

12

“Did Schwind send you? Are you representing him again? He wants the painting, doesn’t he?” He came towards me, full of energy, using his cane but talking all the while. Then he was standing right in front of me.

He annoyed me. I hadn’t liked him when I visited his house and he took my arm. I had always found him condescending when we ran into each other on social occasions, and now I found him rude. “Didn’t you give him the painting? And in return he gave you Irene? Who you couldn’t keep?”

He snorted scornfully. “That was all juvenile nonsense. The painting is mine. It was gone, now it’s back. Has your client…”

“Schwind is not my client.”

“So what are you doing here?”

“Is that any of your business?”

He waved the question away. “You were always hypersensitive. Amazing that you succeeded as a lawyer. When will Irene be back?”

I shrugged.

“Then I’ll take a look around. She’s found a pretty spot for herself, no one comes, no one disturbs her, and for all that, it doesn’t even belong to her. I’d have to work hard for something like this.”

He took a few steps, then turned back and scrutinized me. “You, here…” He shook his head. “I always suspected you, but I didn’t want to believe that as an attorney you would have dared.” Then he laughed. “In any case, you had a good eye, better than mine. If I had suspected that the painting would one day be worth more than twenty million…”

I watched him wander off, going inside the lower house, re-emerging, climbing the steps to the upper house and disappearing inside. He tapped his cane hard on the steps and then on the floorboards; for a while after he had disappeared from sight, I heard the click-clack of his cane. Then it was quiet. The pilot sat on the edge of the jetty, dangling his legs and smoking a cigarette.

13