The Gordian Knot - Bernhard Schlink [88]
Georg stood by the red ropes outside the arrivals area and looked up. Through a small atrium he could see the bays of a glass dome. The upper level rests on thick columns. A dome, columns—Georg smiled and thought, I see I can’t get away from cathedrals. His smile was one of resignation. The professor would enjoy the “ifs” and “thens” of what I’ve set up here. If Joe wants to kill me, it’s because I could be dangerous for him with Gorgefield Aircraft and perhaps even with the Russians. But if he sees that the cat is out of the bag, he’ll have his hands full trying to deal with both the cat and the bag, and won’t have time to focus on me. Then I’ll come out of all this unscathed. Joe will be angry, but he won’t kill me because he’s angry.
That was Georg’s plan: he would show himself with the professor upstairs so that Joe would see both of them when he came through the arrivals hall. Then Georg and the professor would proceed to the escalator leading to the lower level. And when Joe came out of the arrivals hall and saw Buchanan, Georg would throw from the escalator the fourteen film cans at their feet. He would let the professor continue down the stairs, while he would sprint back up the escalator and disappear. Joe, the professor, Buchanan, and the police could then deal with one another as they pleased.
Buchanan arrived at ten to ten. He arrived with two men who had the powerful build and expressionless faces typical of policemen and gangsters. Georg saw them from the top of the escalator. Buchanan said something to the two men and they disappeared behind the columns, while he went to stand by the red rope with all the people waiting for arriving passengers. From time to time he looked about discreetly.
The professor arrived at five to ten. He had the same careful tread, the same blue suit and striped shirt, but no tie. He was holding a briefcase in his hand.
“Are you taking the ten-twenty Pan Am flight to London?” he asked.
Georg shrugged his shoulders. “Come with me, I want to show you something,” he said, nodding his head toward the glass wall above the customs area.
“Where are the goods?”
As he walked, Georg put his hands in his jacket pockets and pulled out some of the cans. He was walking fast. The monitor showed that the Pan Am flight had arrived.
Joe had the redhead with him. That’s not surprising, Georg thought; after all, he knows me quite well. The redhead was carrying two bags. Joe was talking and gesticulating—a corpulent mass of affability.
“Do you know him?” Georg asked, nudging the professor and pointing at Joe. He didn’t wait for an answer. He beat his fists against the glass wall. That action in itself might not have caught Joe’s attention and made him look up, but the glass was secured, and a grating alarm went off. All heads in the area below looked up. Georg saw the surprise in Joe’s face.
“What are you doing?” the professor asked, grabbing Georg’s arm.
“Come on!” Georg shouted and, seizing the professor by the hand, began running, pushing, dodging people, and jumping over luggage, dragging the professor behind him. They reached the escalator and began to descend. He let go of the professor, who was gasping and cursing, and reached for the cans of film in his pockets. Buchanan came into sight, as did the door to the hall.
Georg’s actions had not aroused any suspicions. A man bangs his hand against the glass wall, setting off a false alarm,