JF05 - The Valkyrie Song (50 page)

‘I guess I’d better keep a low profile …’ Frolov shrugged. ‘Now, Herr Fabel, are you going to tell me the name of who was behind all this? Or shall I tell you?’

‘I’m investigating three other murders,’ said Fabel. ‘Armin Lensch, who worked for Norivon, an environmental waste-management company and part of the NeuHansa Group. Peter Claasens, a shipping agent who managed Norivon traffic – I’m guessing one or both of them tripped up over some
irregularity and were killed before they got the chance to tell anyone, or even work out the real significance of what they had found. Then there was the murder of Jake Westland, the British rock star.’

‘
He
was involved with this? I thought that was the work of some crazed serial killer.’

‘That’s what you were supposed to think. The truth is that Westland was as careful with his investments as you are. He obviously smelt a rat. Because of his … well, his
ancestry
, I suppose you’d say, he would be particularly sensitive to anything that suggested the abuse of women. Poor bastard, he was probably lured to his death thinking he was meeting someone with information.’

‘So you already suspected Gina Brønsted?’ asked Frolov.

‘Yes. Or at least some element within the NeuHansa Group.’

‘Trust me, Herr Fabel. Look no further than Brønsted. You said you’ve developed a nose for crooks over your years as a policeman. Well, believe me, you develop the same kind of instinct when you’re in business. I’m sure you have a lot of experience with sociopaths in your line of work. Well, so do I. A certain ruthlessness, a lack of empathy, even a lack of conscience is positively encouraged amongst the commercially ambitious. The next time you talk to Gina Brønsted, take a long look into her eyes. I promise you, you’ll find nothing there.’

Fabel could see that Frolov was sincere about what he was saying. Whether it was Brønsted or not behind the attack, it was clear that Fabel had been wrong: this bombing
was
the work of the Valkyrie. She had deliberately missed with the same precision with which she usually hit her target. A warning. Timed perfectly.

‘Where were you when the bomb went off?’ he asked the Russian.

‘Here – this was our table. With things the way they are, we thought it was a good idea to sit away from the window.’

‘We?’

‘Frau Schilmann. An ex-colleague of yours. She’s been coordinating my security here. Much to the annoyance of Ivan.’

‘Well,’ said Fabel, ‘if you don’t mind we’ll take over now. Consider yourself under the protection of the Polizei Hamburg until you leave.’ He frowned. ‘Frau Schilmann suggested that you sit here?’

‘Yes.’

‘But she went outside?’

‘Yes. She chose the wrong moment to take a cigarette break.’

‘Okay,’ said Fabel, with a smile. ‘Let’s get you somewhere safe.’

‘We’re in a race against time.’ Fabel stood at the front of the inquiry room, the screen lowered behind him. The forty to fifty officers assembled were reduced to shapes edged with the light from the projector. ‘We have been keeping a murder under wraps for as long as we can. Drescher – or Gerdes as he was known – lived a solitary enough life, but he had neighbours, knew women, probably socialised with people we haven’t traced yet. He’s being missed right now, and it’s only a matter of time before his death becomes public.’

Fabel clicked the remote. The state hospital photograph of Paulus came up on screen.

‘This is Drescher’s killer: Margarethe Paulus. Dr Eckhardt suggests that she is probably psychotic rather than psychopathic. She is delusional. But her wildest story of all happens to be true. She is a
Valkyrie
. One of three highly trained and disciplined professional female assassins. The names of the other two Valkyries are Liane Kayser and Anke Wollner – although we can be sure that neither of them have used their real name in years. It looks like one of them, Liane Kayser, was either rejected in the same way Margarethe was
or has gone her own way under an assumed identity. That leaves Anke Wollner, who seems to be our best bet to be the Valkyrie. Although, as I say, it’s all pretty academic. These names are useless to us because the full machinery of the Stasi was brought to bear on hiding them and creating new identities.’ Fabel clicked the remote and another face filled the screen.

‘This is Gennady Frolov. He’s the other reason we’re under pressure. He’s had his final warning from the Valkyrie – in the shape of the bomb down by the harbour. Now he’s on borrowed time. The Valkyrie never misses.’

‘She missed with the bomb,’ said someone from near the back.

‘No, she didn’t. Like I said: a warning.’

Another click.

‘These are the personal ads that have come out in this month’s issue of
Muliebritas
. We have – or rather Commissar Wolff’s friend has – matched the frequency and style of all the previous ads, including the tell-tale three-letter code that identifies each ad as a message carrier: it tells the Valkyrie that Drescher wants to meet with her in the Alsterpark next to the Fährdamm. Eleven-thirty, Wednesday. So if our girl has picked this message up, and believes it’s genuinely from Drescher, then we’re in business tomorrow.’

Another click.

‘This is the Alsterpark. We’ll have observers and sharpshooters on the roofs of the buildings behind the park, but it’s a long range from that distance and we can’t keep members of the public away. I’m going to have to rely on all of you on the ground. You’re going to double as joggers, park workers, business people – and we’ll have a couple of you in uniform too. The main thing is that there should be nothing to scare the Valkyrie off. And, trust me, she knows what she’s looking for.’

‘Surely the main thing she’ll be looking for is Drescher,’
said Anna. ‘Which might be somewhat problematic. Not to mention smelly.’

‘Aha,’ said Fabel, with a sense of triumph. ‘This is where our double comes in …’ He walked over to the door, opened it and called out into the corridor. ‘We’re ready for your close-up.’

Werner stepped into the Inquiry Room to cheers, catcalls and laughter. He was dressed in an expensive English tweed jacket that was straining at the buttons, and a roll-neck cashmere sweater. But the real source of amusement was the grey-blond wig pulled over his bristle-cut scalp.

‘Okay, okay …’ Fabel gestured as if calming traffic. ‘Settle down. What you’ve got to remember is that she’ll only see him from a distance. We have got to take her down fast and effectively. This isn’t a deranged serial killer or some hairy-arsed drugs dealer settling a score. I have to be honest and say that I’ve never dealt with a murder case like this before. Killing people is the Valkyrie’s trade. God knows how many people she’s killed, but she’s very, very good at it. Now, I don’t expect her to come heavily armed – my guess is that she won’t carry a weapon routinely. That way she could be caught out. But remember: this woman does not always need a weapon. She can kill with her bare hands, quickly and efficiently.’

‘You could be doing more to make me feel better about this,’ said Werner, with a crooked smile.

‘And that’s why Werner will be wearing Kevlar body armour beneath his coat and jacket. But I’ve asked that we’re supported by some of our special-tactics colleagues from the Polizei Hamburg MEK unit. Maybe even get some help from GSG-9 …’

Fabel paused for the collective groan.

‘I’m not saying that we can’t handle this ourselves, but I’m not going to lose anyone on this operation. I just want us to have people there with similar training to that of our
Valkyrie. We’ll have a full joint briefing tomorrow morning, seven a.m.’

Fabel clicked the remote again and Gina Brønsted’s face came up on screen.

‘This is where it gets all political. Frau Brønsted here is a very powerful woman with a lot of very influential friends. I am also absolutely convinced that she is the person who’s been commissioning the hits carried out by the Valkyrie. Hans, are you there?’ Fabel shielded his eyes against the glare of the projector and peered into the audience.

‘Here, Jan,’ said Gessler.

‘I have arranged for all the seizure warrants you’ll need. As soon as we take the Valkyrie down, you hit NeuHansa with your team. I need the proof that Brønsted is the Valkyrie’s client.’

Fabel wound up the meeting and grabbed a coffee and sandwich in the canteen before going up to his office. Martina Schilmann was waiting for him. Her hair was pulled back into a ponytail and he could see that she had a dressing in her ear. She looked tired and pale. And more than a little annoyed.

‘Sit down, Martina,’ he said, with a smile. ‘How are you?’

‘Sore. In more ways than one. I got the message that you wanted to see me. That’s good, because I wanted to see you. Do you realise that you’ve really screwed up my business? What do you think you are doing, telling Gennady Frolov that the Polizei Hamburg will handle his protection?’

‘Martina, you’re not that naive. A serious offence was committed in the harbour last night. A lot of people have been injured, including you. Gennady Frolov is the victim of an attempted murder. That makes it our business, not yours. You should know that. Anyway, I didn’t tell him to sack you—’

‘No, you didn’t tell him to sack me. But you asked him a
lot of questions about me, didn’t you? Where I was when the bomb went off, why I was outside … You successfully put the idea into his head that I might be involved.’ Martina stared at Fabel and her scowl became a frown and then an expression of disbelief. ‘My God – you really
do
suspect me of something. I don’t believe this.’

Fabel looked at the sandwich on his desk, sighed and dropped it into the wastebasket.

‘It’s not like that, Martina.’

‘No? What
is
it like?’

‘I don’t suspect you of anything. It’s just … well, you never really know someone.’

‘For Christ’s sake, Jan – we
slept
together for six months.’

‘This case – it’s …
complicated
,’ Fabel said awkwardly. ‘There are three women involved: Margarethe Paulus, Liane Kayser, Anke Wollner. All of them were brought up in the old GDR and they were trained as assassins. And all of them were given new identities. Margarethe Paulus is deranged and was the woman behind Drescher’s torture and murder, Liane Kayser has dropped off the radar and is presumably living a normal life under an assumed name and Anke Wollner, we believe, became the Valkyrie. And planted the bomb last night as a warning to Frolov.’

‘I do not bloody believe this!’ Martina’s face flushed red and her eyes glinted hard. ‘So which one do you think I am, Jan? Do you think I went outside and shattered my own eardrum by detonating the bomb at close range? Or do you have me down as the reincarnation of the killer who’s disappeared from sight?’

‘I’m not accusing you of anything. I just wanted you to tell me what happened last night. If you saw anything unusual. You are a witness, for God’s sake. I
have
to question you.’

‘We were just about to leave,’ said Martina in a steely tone. ‘When we arrived, I directed Frolov and his entourage away from the windows – I’d phoned the restaurant in advance
and told them to reserve a table towards the back. Frolov and his business acquaintances were on to their coffees and brandies. I told Lorenz to stay with Ivan, Frolov’s own security guy, and I went outside for a smoke. The Merc was parked just a little further down the street and I was telling the busboy we would need it out front when he got the message from the maître d’. Then boom … no more Merc and no more eardrum. I didn’t have my hands in my pockets, by the way, Jan. You can ask the busboy. Just in case you were wondering if I had a remote detonator stashed.’

‘Did you see anyone other than the busboy outside?’ Fabel ignored Martina’s gibe.

‘No. No one within sight to set the bomb off other than the busboy. Oh yes … and, of course, me.’

‘Martina, this isn’t helping. Frankly I don’t give a shit if our protecting a potential murder victim doesn’t fit in with your business plan. All I want to do is to put together some kind of picture of this hit woman. I’m asking you to think like a police officer again. Was there anything you saw or heard that might have been connected with the detonation?’

Martina sighed. ‘No. Not really. Except I don’t think it was the radio transmission between the maître d’ and the busboy that set the bomb off. Everything else was too professional for the detonator not to be selectively shielded.’

Fabel raised a questioning eyebrow.

‘I did a course,’ explained Martina. ‘But the other thing is that the blast was at the same time as the radio went off, but not
exactly
. Not simultaneous. So that fits with the bomb being a warning.’

‘That’s where we are with it,’ said Fabel.

‘But it still doesn’t jell with me …’ Martina’s earlier anger seemed to have dissipated. ‘It was all done very professionally, and with great precision, and that fits with this killer. But that’s what she is: a killer. Sending out warnings doesn’t fit.’

‘Mmm … you could be right,’ said Fabel. ‘But like you say, everything else fits.’

‘Maybe she’s extending her service offer.’ Martina smirked. ‘Moving with the times to match the needs of the market.’

‘Could be …’ said Fabel. ‘But if she is, then that’s where we’ll nail her. If she doesn’t stick to what she knows best.’