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Austin Macauley Publishers Ltd - Pia Berg

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100 pages

English

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When Iris sat on a train to her new job at the Institute of Historical Research in Germany, she was picturing a relaxing time ahead of her, with heavy history books on her lap. And a few weeks later, she was proven wrong. One of her closest colleagues, a young man named Gert, wanted to study the ideas of Neo-Nazism in a rather practical manner; by going "undercover" in a Neo-Nazi group. When Iris heard that, she got the feeling of danger in her gut. And shortly after that, she was proven right. The next weeks were far from relaxing.

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Thriller

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Publié par	Austin Macauley Publishers Ltd
Date de parution	06 janvier 2023
Nombre de lectures	1
EAN13	9781398444775
Langue	English
Poids de l'ouvrage	1 Mo

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The Sense of Danger
Pia Berg
Austin Macauley Publishers
2023-01-06
The Sense of Danger About the Author Copyright Information © Acknowledgement Prologue ‘Institute of Historical Research’ My New Colleagues Ewa’s Project Gert’s Cover-Up Some Tiny Lies Thomas’s Visit Back to Work Monday, Again Gert’s Friend, Dieter The Phone Call The Police Some Surreal Days Home for Christmas Heading Back to Germany The Funeral Back at Work My New Workmate. Joachim The Accident. And That What Followed ‘Run, Run, Run Away’ ‘The Place’ Night-time at ‘the Place’ The First Day Tea by Night. And More News Day by Day… Bettina’s Journey Party Time Bettina’s Departure Closure On My Way Home. Again Epilogue
About the Author
The author is Scandinavian by origin: born in Sweden but has been living in Norway most of her life. Learning more about history is one of her hobbies, especially modern history, although she chose to study other subjects at the university and ended up with a degree in philosophy (MPhil). Reading crime novels/thrillers is another of her hobbies, and she decided, long time ago, to write one on her own. And here it is.
Copyright Information ©
Pia Berg 2023
The right of Pia Berg to be identified as the author of this work has been asserted by the author in accordance with Sections 77 and 78 of the Copyright, Designs and Patents Act 1988.
All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced, stored in a retrieval system, or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic, mechanical, photocopying, recording, or otherwise, without the prior permission of the publishers.
Any person who commits any unauthorised act in relation to this publication may be liable to criminal prosecution and civil claims for damages.
This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, businesses, places, events, locales, and incidents are either the products of the author’s imagination or used in a fictitious manner. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, or actual events is purely coincidental.
A CIP catalogue record for this title is available from the British Library.
ISBN 9781398444768 (Paperback)
ISBN 9781398444775 (ePub e-book)
www.austinmacauley.com
First Published 2023
Austin Macauley Publishers Ltd ®
1 Canada Square
Canary Wharf
London
E14 5AA
Acknowledgement
Thanks to my closest friends and family members for giving me ideas and discussing the book with me.
Prologue
Luckily for me, I did not have the faintest idea about the danger I was going to face and the terror I was going to feel, just a few months later. Sitting there on a train to Germany, I rather imagined a calm and quiet form of life. Being a historian, with the main interest in the pre-war period of Germany, the only action I pictured was the action taking part in my own head. I loved sitting in sleepy libraries and dusty archive rooms.
My new job in Germany as a research assistant at an institute working with pre- and post-war matters was perfect in that sense. I was looking forward to it, even if the job consisted mainly of being an assistant to other researchers at the institute. For the past years, after graduating from the university, I had been working part time as a teacher at one of the local schools in my living area. Teaching youngsters was rather exhausting, and I was looking forward to the more relaxing type of work that I expected to have in near future.
The prospect of leaving my family and friends had almost held me back from applying for this job. Especially when I thought of my twin brother Thomas, but also my aunt and my uncle, who had been functioning as our closest relatives ever since our parents died in a car accident when we were only six years old. Our parents had died instantly in the crash caused by a sleepy lorry driver on a slippery Scandinavian winter night. Our father’s older sister, Elsa, and her husband, Max, had immediately been taking care of our children.
They didn’t have any children of their own, and we had started to think of them as our parents, although we also knew that wasn’t true. We didn’t, after all, call them ‘mom’ and ‘dad’, but called them by their own names, and sometimes just ‘Elsa’ and ‘Max’, instead of ‘auntie Elsa’ and ‘uncle Max’. My brother now lived in Gothenburg with his wife and two kids, a boy and a girl, both in primary school age.
Because we were twins, although not as close as identical twins, I always felt we were close as close to one another in mind as identical twins. Elsa had a twin sister, Agnes, and these two women seemed to be able to read each other’s minds even after all these years, and even if they also lived far apart from one another. Agnes lived in northern Sweden with her daughter, far away from Stockholm where we had grown up.
And Gothenburg was also quite far away. My brother and I used to call each other at least once a week to share the latest news. And he always seemed to be able to tell how I felt by listening to me.
I looked at the passing landscape through the train window, thinking about these things. The perspective of a new job and a new country had started to thrill me, and I really looked forward to ‘starting a new life’. I broke up with my boyfriend half a year earlier, and the break-up in combination with my new job had given me a feeling of freedom that I really enjoyed.
Nicklas and I had been living together for quite a while, almost for 5 years, and we had reached the point where he wanted to start a family, and I discovered that I didn’t. I was only 32 years old and there were still many things I would like to do before I ‘settled down’.
We were approaching the train station, and I decided to take a taxi to my new home. The manager of the institute had informed me about a co-worker who was going to work on a project in another part of the country for a longer period and asked me if I would like to rent his flat.
I had instantly accepted the offer since I didn’t know the city and where to even start to look for a flat. Now I would get time to ‘settle down’ without having to worry about looking for furniture and other things, since the flat was going to be fully equipped with everything I needed, except for my own clothes and personal belongings.
The taxi stop was easily found outside the old railway building, and I gave the taxi driver the address I had received from the institute manager. Driving through the city, I got the impression of an old city, not too much damaged of World War II, since many of the buildings seemed to be both old and in good shape. Old, pre-war buildings, some that appeared to be from the late nineteenth, eighteenth, or even from the seventeenth century, were standing next to other buildings carrying the more functional marks of post-war building styles.
The taxi took me out of the city centre, into a more suburban area, and I decided that I probably needed public transport to get to work. We stopped outside a lean, yellow, five-storey high building that seemed to be from the early 50ies, from the time when Germany as well as other countries had started to rebuild their cities.
One of the neighbours, a Frau Zimmermann, was supposed to hold the key for the flat. I put my finger on the doorbell, and in the doorway appeared a woman in the early sixties, a woman with a stocky body and a round friendly face. (She looked like a housewife of the old-fashioned type, I thought; she had even an apron around her waist.) I introduced myself and tried to chat a bit in German, although my German language skills of mine were not as good as my English skills.
Fortunately, she was the talkative kind, so I didn’t have to say much, but listened to her flow of words and uttered a few words from time to time in a response to her stories about the young man who owned the flat and the nice friends that use to visit him, and sometimes, he played music all through the night, but not especially loud, so it was no need to complain. She showed me around in the flat, that was located on the floor above her.
The flat was small but nice and neat. One bedroom, living room and kitchen. ‘The young man’ was apparently a guy who liked to keep everything in order, since even his bookshelves were organised in a nice, orderly way, both thematically and alphabetically. He seemed to be especially interested in studies of political extremism among teenagers in Germany.
Several of the book titles were dealing with the problems of neo-Nazism and, also, with the problems of religious fundamentalism among young people. (I silently wondered if both types of extremism were prevalent among German youngsters and hoped that I was given the opportunity to meet ‘the young man’ and ask him about it.)
Frau Zimmermann left me after having informed me about the neighbourhood and where to find public transport. She also had shown me where to find the institute on a map I had brought with me. I decided not to go there today, even if I was curious about my new working place. I was not, after all, going to start working until next week, so it was no need to hurry.
I could go there tomorrow and get to know both my new working place and the city better, I decided. So, I went out to the closest shop to buy some food and other necessities, and then spent the rest of the evening organising my things and relaxing in front of the TV. The German channels had the tendency of dubbing everything into German, so I gathered that I was going to improve my language skills pretty well by watching German channels.
The next day, I enjoyed a long, lazy breakfast and a nice hot shower, and left the flat to look for my new working place. The bus stop was not far from the flat, and I entered a bus that took me to the railway station. From there I decided to take a walk.
The city was not big, and I had figured out that the institute was only a few blocks away from the station. And ten minutes later, I was standing there, looking at the big, eighteenth century, stone buildin