Following lunch, Tayte and Jean arrived at Johann Langner’s art gallery and auction house in plenty of time for their two thirty appointment with Langner’s son, Rudolph, who was busy with a client when they first arrived at the modern two-storey building in the Kunstareal—the art district in Munich’s city centre. They were waiting on the gallery floor beneath the main auction house, where interested bidders could view the artwork prior to sale. The most expensive pieces were viewable by appointment only in a room off the main gallery, which was where they had been told Rudolph Langner was.
‘Fancy taking one home?’ Tayte joked as they waited by a painting he didn’t really understand. It was little more than a large off-white canvas with a line across the centre in burnt orange. ‘What do you suppose this is meant to represent?’
Jean studied it, tilting her head this way and that. She shook her head. ‘A sunset of some sort?’
Tayte had never heard of the artist, but judging from the price guide he could see there was clearly a market for his work. He looked around at all the paintings on display. There must have been close to a hundred pieces and it was plain to see that they represented a fortune in commission for the Langner gallery. As his eyes strayed towards the back of the room, he saw a tall, athletic-looking man in a black polo shirt and a tailored silver-grey suit striding purposefully towards them. As the man drew closer he began to smile, and Tayte realised this was who he and Jean had come to see. Tayte thought he was around forty years old. He had coiffed blonde hair and a narrow strip of beard running down the centre of his chin, which Tayte thought was akin to some artistic expression of his own.
The man extended his hand towards Tayte as he arrived. ‘Mr Tayte,’ he said, with an accent that was more British public school than German. Tayte noticed how piercing his eyes were. They were unnaturally blue, as though he were wearing coloured contact lenses to enhance them. He kissed Jean’s hand. ‘And you must be Professor Summer.’
‘I’m pleased to meet you, Mr Langner,’ Jean said.
‘Please, call me Rudi.’ He turned to Tayte. ‘I’m afraid I can’t give you long. I’ve another client to see in just under an hour. Now, you said on the telephone this morning that you’d been talking with my father at the Heart Centre.’
‘That’s right,’ Tayte said. ‘Only we had to leave somewhat prematurely.’
‘Yes, I heard my father had another turn.’
‘Have you seen him since then?’ Jean asked. ‘Is he okay?’
‘I’ve not seen him, no,’ Rudi said. ‘His nurse keeps me updated, though. Her latest text message told me he was over the worst. But he needs rest.’
‘We met his nurse yesterday,’ Tayte said. ‘Your father appears to be in good hands. She seems very efficient.’
Rudi gave a small laugh. ‘Ingrid Keller might be efficient, but she’s the most unpleasant person I know. She’s always around him, telling me when I can and can’t see him. He seems to like having her around, though, so I let them get on with it.’
Tayte passed Rudi one of his business cards. ‘We’re keen to see your father again whenever he’s up to it. Perhaps you could let either him or his nurse know. I’d appreciate a call if something can be set up.’
‘Of course. I’ll see what I can do. But you must understand that he’s very unwell.’
‘I know,’ Tayte said. ‘Just on the off-chance.’
Rudi smiled and nodded as he slipped the card into his pocket.
As they ambled further into the gallery, Tayte showed Rudi the photograph of his mother. ‘You wouldn’t have been born when this picture of my mother was taken,’ he said, ‘so I won’t ask you if you recognise her. I was abandoned as a child, eventually adopted, and I’ve been trying to identify my biological parents ever since.’
‘Adopted, eh?’ Rudi smiled warmly at Tayte. ‘We have something in common then.’
‘You were adopted, too?’
‘Yes. My father has always been open about it, so I’ve known from an early age. He had no other children and he wanted an heir to his fortunes, I suppose. Someone to leave everything to when he’s gone. He took my unfortunate situation and turned it into something wonderful. He’s loved me as well as any child could hope to be loved, and I hope I’ve loved him as well as any son could. I certainly admire him for all he’s done.’
‘Do you ever wonder about your real parents?’
‘Why should I? My mother didn’t want me. Why should I want her?’
Rudi’s words sounded cold to Tayte. It was a stark contrast to how he felt about his own mother, but then he’d always believed that his mother had given him up because she’d felt she had no choice. Rudi, on the other hand, seemed entirely comfortable with the situation, so Tayte didn’t dwell on it.