Cruise: A Thriller Page 4

  Apparently that wasn’t really the case, something Heleen realized after her father’s death. It seemed almost impossible to her to give yourself to the Lord overnight, when in the years before you showed little to no interest.

  “I guess she was pretending not to care,” she mumbled. Then she shrugged her shoulders. Whatever, she thought. If it feels good to her, more power to her. Ten-thirty. She turned on the TV and channel-surfed aimlessly. Movie, documentary, game show. The sounds and images made no impression on her whatsoever. It was like artificial company; she could ask it to come and go as she pleased. She put down the remote control and closed her eyes.

  She went upstairs around midnight. She brushed her teeth, got changed, stepped into the double bed, and opened up the novel. She tried to fuse the moving words into sentences in order to put together the story line until about two thirty a.m. When this seemed liked an impossible task, she gave up and put the book back on the nightstand.

  She couldn’t do it. Couldn’t read, sleep, live … Endless questions and worries repeated in her mind. By early morning she finally fell asleep.

  10

  Little Alex Beringer jogged out of Heleen’s front yard. When he reached the sidewalk, he waved enthusiastically. His “See you tomorrow” was swept up by the wind and carried away into the street. He pulled up his jacket collar and without even realizing it, chased after his own words, swirling around in the wind.

  Alex Beringer was nine years old, and he was her favorite neighbor, although technically he lived eight houses away. She had recently come into contact with the little blond guy, who had shamelessly devoured at least ten cookies within fifteen minutes while laughing uncontrollably at his own jokes. He was a sweet boy who had somehow become part of her life during the last couple of weeks. A small part, yes, but quality always trumps quantity. She truly enjoyed his sincerity, and his endearing, childlike wisdom melted her heart. For thirty minutes a day she was a mother.

  Out of the blue, Alex had showed up at her doorstep one day.

  “Hello, ma’am,” he started. “Is your husband gone?” She had looked at him with pure bewilderment.

  “My dad is gone, too,” he continued in a tone that made it seem as if this conversation topic was completely normal, like he was talking about the weather or a popular TV show. “Only we know where he is. He is with his new girlfriend in Helmond.”

  Still slightly flabbergasted about this unexpected visit, she had let him in. Alex had walked straight into the living room and immediately sat down on the couch. “Comfy,” he decided. With the trained eye of a much older man, he sized up the environment. But kept his opinions to himself.

  Their first encounter lasted about half an hour. Alex drank his soft drink, ate cookies, and talked incessantly about a wide range of issues; school, aerospace, and soccer were discussed. But he didn’t utter another word about his father.

  After he left she had obviously contacted his mother. In a sharp contrast to her son, she was not very chatty. Heleen had to pull every word out of her. In short, she found out that Alex had heard about Frank’s disappearance in the neighborhood. He found it to be both sad and exciting and had decided to follow up about this on his own accord. His visit was just as big of a surprise to his mother as it had been to her.

  They had ended the conversation by agreeing that they would keep in touch and inform each other of any further developments, if needed. Heleen emphasized that Alex was always welcome. The little guy had made an indelible impression on her during his first visit. Much to her delight, his mother had agreed. However, she didn’t get the impression that the woman cared very much. What a ridiculous thought. Didn’t every mother adore her child and wouldn’t they always want to know exactly where and with whom they were hanging out, or not? Heleen got up. Coffee. The umpteenth cup today. She stopped counting cups weeks ago. In the past she only drank a maximum of four cups a day. Oh well, that was the past. …

  While she walked back into the living room, Heleen felt reasonably well. The constant turmoil she had experienced had now dissipated into a faint, distant echo in the back of her mind. Nothing earth-shattering, really.

  Alex was a part of the “circle of compassion,” which was how she quietly referred to her family, friends, and acquaintances. A name she had come up with spontaneously and was in no way meant to be derisive. She had far too much respect for the people who had her best interest at heart and meant so well. It was amazing how they had taken care of her after Frank’s disappearance. She would be forever grateful to them for this.

  Despite her mental state, she did try to stay realistic. It was logical that the frequency of phone calls and visits from colleagues, friends, and distant relatives would eventually die down. It was already so great that these people thought of her with such regularity. If their interest faded after a while, she was totally at peace with it.

  Her immediate family never let her down. Her mother came by twice a week, and her brother, Jurgen, also called regularly. He lived just below Groningen, in northern Holland, with his family, which was quite a long ride to Eindhoven. Yet, he and his wife and their two children had come by a few times by train, since her brother hated driving. Despite the difficult situation, they had spent a few lovely afternoons together. She was crazy about her nephews and loved to mother them. It also distracted her from all her worries and Jurgen’s always-somber mood. He was already quite melancholy by nature, and Frank’s disappearance had made him even worse than he already was. His wife, Nelleke, always stayed in the background. She adored her husband and always agreed with him. Nelleke was also very kind to the children. The way Heleen saw it, Jurgen had really hit the jackpot when he met her; she was one in a million.

  Frank’s sister, Monique, was the last in the “inner circle.” She had been working for a bank in New York over the past two years, and she was four years younger than Frank. Despite the huge distance and the time difference, she always stayed in contact. She loved her big brother and her world collapsed when she heard the news about his disappearance. After the death of their parents three years ago, he was her only family. She phoned regularly and had already crossed the ocean twice to stay with Heleen for a few days.

  Heleen stared dead ahead. She thought about the whole “disappearance” thing. To her, it meant that she constantly lived somewhere between hope and fear. The fear was like a tumor that slowly ate away at your insides. Hope only lasted if it was fed and the longer the “disappearance” went on, the more it crumbled. To the eventually reach a point where it broke you completely and you lost all hope.

  During the past few months she had spent a lot of time on the computer. Online, she found hundreds, maybe thousands of people who had gone through what she had gone through. Every day, new people appeared and wanted to share their tragedy with others. The stories were poignant, unimaginable, and usually heartbreaking. After taking part in a few of the discussions on these forums, she had suddenly stopped one day. Expressing and receiving support somehow didn’t work for her. Perfect strangers suddenly became kindred spirits. In some cases they even became friends and she became really caught up in their misery. Other people’s problems started to become her problems. This was not a good or healthy development and something she had to bring to a halt quickly so she wouldn’t get sucked into it. She simply didn’t have room for it in her life.

  She was startled by the phone ringing. Good news, bad news … or simply an acquaintance calling to check in? The uncertainly was like a ghost that constantly hovered over her. She answered it after three rings.

  “Heleen van Rijnsburg speaking.”

  “Good afternoon, ma’am,” a polite male voice said. “My name is Hugo Steugels. Could I please speak to Mr. Frank Eldering?”

  Heleen was instantly irritated. For the past few weeks she had been bothered by a slew of telemarketers in the late afternoon. She was going to cut this one off fast.

  “Listen, mister.” She made sure the last word sounded condescending. �
��I want you to leave me alone. I’m not interested in any subscriptions or articles you’re selling!”

  Just when she was determined to hang up on him, she heard the man say quickly, “I’m not a telemarketer.”

  “So who are you then?” she asked flatly. Her lack of patience showed how the tragedy of the past few months had given her some new sharp edges.

  “I work for a company named Fortuna,” Steugels answered. “Our offices are located in Rotterdam,” he added.

  Heleen raised her eyebrows. Our offices are located in Rotterdam? What kind of stupid answer was that? She could barely keep herself from slamming the phone down.

  “So what is it you’re calling for?” she said coldly.

  “Well, that was something I wanted to discuss with Mr. Eldering personally.”

  Heleen could feel something snap in the back of her head.

  “Well, that would be very difficult,” she hissed through her teeth. “My husband has been missing for quite some time now.”

  The silence on the other end of the line was deafening. After Steugels pulled himself together, he said in a voice stripped of all confidence: “Right … That clears things up a little.”

  Heleen started to get the feeling she was either dealing with a complete idiot or someone who was playing a very bad joke on her.

  “I’m going to hang up now,” she said, emotionless.

  “Ma’am, please don’t hang up!” There was a hint of panic in Steugels voice. “I work for Fortuna in Rotterdam. We offer loans to clients with an above-average income.”

  “So what?” Heleen snapped at him. “I don’t need a loan.”

  “You already have a loan with us,” he responded quickly. “Your husband set it up two years ago.”

  Heleen froze. She wanted to ask a question, but the words got stuck in the back of her throat.

  “Do you know anything about this?” Steugels said with some hesitation.

  “No,” Heleen stammered. “I don’t know anything about a loan.”

  She took a deep breath. Her hands began shaking slightly, causing the receiver to tap annoyingly against her ear. She closed her eyes for a moment. Stay calm. This is about money. It’s just money; you’ve gone through far worse over the past few months.

  “So, my husband set up a loan with you two years ago?” Thankfully, her voice was less shaky than she had expected it to be.

  “That’s correct. To be paid within a period of ten years.”

  “How much money are we talking about?”

  “The amount borrowed was two hundred thousand euro. The outstanding balance is one hundred sixty-two thousand four hundred and twenty euro.”

  Heleen was shocked by the amount. “That is a lot of money.”

  “It is indeed,” Steugels agreed. “Seeing as last quarter’s payments are now behind, I am forced to contact the client.” In a very apologetic tone, he added, “It is one of the conditions in the contract.”

  Without telling her, Frank had set up a loan? Two hundred thousand euro! A small fortune. Why in the world would he have done that? Materialistically speaking, they had everything their hearts desired. This all seemed highly unlikely. Maybe she was dealing with an idiot after all, but he did sound very convincing. It was certainly possible; after all, you heard so many strange stories.

  “When exactly did my husband set this loan up?” If this man really did work for a loan provider, he needed to convince her. But this was still only a phone contact, just a voice, and no face. Once she really believed him, she would double-check with the main office in Rotterdam anyway.

  She could hear Steugels thumbing through papers. “About two years ago. Ah, okay … I got it.” He named the exact date.

  “Why am I only hearing about this loan now?” Frank may have handled all of their finances, but a loan for two hundred thousand she wouldn’t have missed. Seeing as they had a mortgage for about the same amount, she knew what the monthly payments were.

  “Your husband explicitly told us that this was strictly a private loan. His income met our requirements, and so there was also no need for any collateral.”

  While she listened carefully, a question popped in her mind.

  “Through which bank were those monthly payments made?”

  Steugels’s answer surprised her. It was a bank Frank had always been very critical of.

  “If this was such a private matter then why are you contacting me now?”

  “That was not my intention. That is why I specifically asked for your husband. After you told me that he’s been missing, I had to make a choice. Don’t misunderstand me; we completely respect our client’s wishes. But if they do not comply with our agreement and we receive no response after repeated calls, we are forced to take other measures from our side.”

  “How did you contact my husband?”

  Steugels gave her an email address and cellphone number. Neither of which she recognized.

  “But now I have a question,” the loan provider said. “You say your husband has been missing for some time now? Can you tell me a little more about that?”

  Heleen thought about her answer.

  “Are you at the office now?”

  “Yes, I am.”

  “Can you give me your number? Then I will call you back in five minutes.”

  Steugels gave her his number without hesitation, and, after exchanging a few niceties, they both hung up. Heleen checked the number online right away. It turned out to be correct. It was really starting to look like Frank had set up a loan with Fortuna in Rotterdam. After some deliberation, she decided to call Steugels back and tell him the story. After all, she had nothing to lose.

  11

  The horizon was an elongated line. The sky was blue and cloudless. Because the sun was missing, she had no idea where the bright light came from.

  She was floating in a very picturesque version of the sea.

  It was an infinite pool of what appeared to be water. The thick liquid was light, ripple-free, and odorless. It felt like a thin jelly, which slipped through her fingers. Still she did not have to swim. The clear substance made it possible for her to stay afloat. It was weird, but felt good. Either way she was very relaxed, for the first time in months. It was dead quiet. There were no birds or fish. On the horizon a small dot appeared. The spot gradually became bigger. Before she could blink her eyes it had become a ball. As it got closer, the object seemed to be oval-shaped. Suddenly it was right in front of her.

  It was an inflatable raft and right in the middle of it was Leon Wolfsperger. He was the doctor that had helped her and Frank during the artificial insemination treatments so fantastically, and he hadn’t changed a bit in all these years. His face was bleak, though. Although his lips moved, she could not understand him. He looked right past her, as if there was someone else across from him to whom he was speaking. She tried to greet him, but did not hear her own words. It remained silent.

  “I’m sorry, Frank,” she suddenly heard him say loud and clear. “Heleen’s acidity is too high. It just won’t work.” He shook his head sadly.

  “But you must not give up hope. I’ve seen stranger things happen. Miracles happen. There are plenty of examples of women who, against all medical odds, still became pregnant and gave birth to healthy children.”

  The inflatable raft suddenly disappeared with unbelievable speed. It was as if someone had pulled open the air valve. It was swallowed up by the horizon in no time.

  Before she had a chance to even contemplate what had just happened, the next raft appeared before her. It was her four colleagues from work, all looking very serious and having a quiet conversation. Suddenly, she could understand them clearly, as if someone had turned up the volume.

  “What do you think?” Karin asked. “Will she ever come back to the office?”

  “Slim chance of that ever happening I’d think,” Esther answered. “But shouldn’t the real question be: Is he ever coming back?”

  “That’s not really a quest
ion but more of a fact,” Peter said. “No one can survive on their own for months out in the ocean.”

  “But she should keep believing in his return,” Lisette said. “It will keep her going.”

  Just as quickly as it had appeared, this raft also disappeared, putting another raft in its place. Jurgen stared ahead sadly.

  “Someone needs to tell her the truth,” he said somberly. “Frank is dead.”

  Nelleke nodded. “He has to be.”

  “Shall I tell Aunt Heleen?” Mark, the eldest of their two sons, said.

  “No way,” Jurgen answered sternly.

  Nelleke shook her head decisively and gave both of her sons a piercing look. “That is not a good idea, my little sweethearts.”

  The raft with the family dissolved and in its place her parents appeared. They looked right at her from their boat. “Hope and faith, darling,” her mother said encouragingly. “They are the foundation on which life is built and supported. Keep hope alive and never lose faith. Eventually all of this will make you stronger, not only as a human being but also as a Christian.”

  Her father nodded mockingly in his wife’s direction.

  “Oh, knock it off, woman. All that hope and religion didn’t cure my cancer. I was gone within five months, remember?” Without waiting for her response, he turned to his daughter directly.

  “I completely understand how difficult this is, but you have to face reality, Heleen. Frank is dead, period. Accept it and pick your life back up. I know it sounds like a cliché, but life is short. If anyone knows that from experience, it’s me.”

  The raft dissolved. It took everything in her to control her emotions now. She had always loved her father so much. His words resounded in her mind, where confusion was beginning to take over.

  The composition of the next raft was rather unusual.

  “Are we insured for this?” Loan provider Hugo Steugels wore a dark suit. She recognized him from his voice, because his face was missing.