JF05 - The Valkyrie Song (53 page)

‘Listen to me, Fabel …’ She still whispered in his ear, but this time there was nothing seductive in her tone, just a hiss of menace and threat. ‘You’re a policeman. You’ve seen so much over the years. You’ve seen so many women battered, raped, strangled, abused. So many girls and women whose last moments were spent in terror. And unimaginable horror. But you can imagine it, can’t you? You have to imagine it. You’ve looked at what other men can do to women and you’ve asked yourself that dark, dark question: am
I
capable of that? So much pain, so much fear. And there have been times you’ve been filled with that dark, dark fear: what if it happened to my daughter, to my partner, to my mother … Well, listen to me and remember what I tell you: the Valkyrie you’re looking for is Anke. Not me. Leave me alone. Don’t come looking for me. Don’t even
start
looking for me. If you do, I will target every woman close to you. Your lover, your daughter, your mother – I will make them victims. I will make them suffer before they die. Do you understand?’ She tightened the ligature again. ‘I can’t hurt them if I’m dead or in prison, so I’ll make sure I get to them
before
you get to me. If I get the slightest hint that you’re on my trail, I’ll come after them. Put your hands behind your head.’

Fabel did as he was told. He felt something sting his neck. Something cold in his veins. The darkness of the bedroom deepened. He left the world.

This time wakefulness came on him like an explosion. Sudden, complete, raw.

Fabel threw himself from the bed and slammed painfully onto the floor. He leaned against the wall and pulled himself up until he was standing on shaking, unsteady legs. He looked around the bedroom wildly, seeking out every shadow. Stumbling to the wall switch, he flooded the room with painfully bright light.

She was gone. He found his trousers and scrabbled through the pockets until he found the key for the secure cabinet where he kept his automatic. He took the safety off and snapped back the carriage before leaving the bedroom, going through the whole apartment, room by room, switching on the lights and sweeping each room with his gun. It was only when he was sure he was alone that he went into the bathroom and surrendered to the nausea that had churned in his gut since his first moment awake. Whatever she had injected into him had left him with a thundering headache and a sick feeling that didn’t clear even after he had vomited.

Fabel moved over to phone the Presidium but checked
himself. There was something he had to do first. He went back into the bathroom and took a long shower.

Holger Brauner wasn’t on call and it was Astrid Bremer who turned up. A uniformed unit had been first to arrive, and they had insisted on knocking up every one of Fabel’s neighbours to find out if they had seen or heard anyone coming into the building.

‘That’s totally unnecessary,’ Fabel had complained. ‘The woman who broke in here is too professional to allow herself to be seen coming or going.’

The young uniformed Commissar had smiled politely and indulgently and, with total disregard for Fabel’s rank, had gone ahead and done what he felt ought to be done. And he was quite right, thought Fabel reluctantly.

‘Why on earth did you have a shower?’ asked Astrid Bremer. ‘You of all people should know better than that. She might have left DNA traces on you.’

‘What’s that supposed to mean?’ snapped Fabel.

Bremer seemed taken aback by Fabel’s vehemence. ‘Nothing – just that if she had a garrotte around your neck, she was pretty close to you. Forensic distance, I mean. She might have left something behind.’

‘I needed to freshen up. That’s all.’ The door opened and Fabel nodded to Werner as he came into the room. ‘I felt groggy after whatever she pumped into me.’

‘I see …’ Bremer searched his expression. ‘Are you okay now?’

‘I’m fine.’

‘You look shaken up, Jan,’ said Werner. ‘The on-call police doctor is here. He wants to check you out.’

‘Like I said, I’m okay.’ Raising his voice only turned up the volume of pain in Fabel’s head. ‘Okay, maybe he should give me a once-over.’

‘We need to find out what she injected you with,’ said
Bremer. ‘The police doctor will want to do that, but I’d like to do my own tests – do you mind if I take a blood sample?’

‘Okay,’ said Fabel impatiently. ‘Take it.’ He rolled up his sleeve.

‘You’ll have to provide the doctor with a second blood sample for an HIV test. Standard practice for any Polizei Hamburg officer who’s been stuck with a needle. Obviously it’s meant for accidents when searching drug users, but it’s regulations …’

Bremer took her sample. ‘Do you know which other rooms she was in? Apart from the bedroom, I mean?’

‘What are you getting at? Do you think I entertained her beforehand?’

‘Take it easy,
Chef
,’ said Werner. ‘Astrid’s only doing her job.’

‘I wasn’t getting at anything, Herr Fabel,’ said Bremer with sudden formality.

‘I’m sorry, Astrid.’ Fabel rubbed his neck. ‘It’s been a trying night. What’s the time?’

‘Five-twenty,’ said Werner.

‘Shit. Once I’m done with the quack you and I will have to get over to the Presidium. We’ve got to get everything set up for the sting in the Alsterpark.’

‘Are we going ahead with that?’ asked Werner. ‘I mean, I know what she told you, but it would be a pretty safe bet to assume that your lady visitor was the Valkyrie.’

‘No, Werner – that was Liane Kayser who came here last night. The whole point of her visit was to let me know in no uncertain terms that she was not Drescher’s hit woman.’

‘Did she know that Drescher was dead?’

‘I don’t know,’ said Fabel. ‘She didn’t say anything to suggest she did. But she definitely was sure that I would know who she was talking about when she mentioned the name Drescher. One thing’s for certain, she’s not
the
Valkyrie. That’s Anke Wollner. Liane Kayser came here tonight because she has a
life worth protecting. She was giving nothing away. Well, she did give one thing away, if inadvertently.’

‘What?’

‘I have a funny feeling that she was abused as a child. Or a rape victim. Some trauma that changed her personality and made her a candidate for the Valkyrie project.’

‘Why?’ Astrid Bremer looked at Fabel with a puzzled frown. ‘What gave you that idea?’

‘I don’t know,’ lied Fabel. ‘Just a couple of things she said about how men treat women. It’s just a feeling I get.’

It was, Fabel imagined, pretty much how it would be preparing a set for a movie scene: everything had the semblance of normality, of reality, but nothing was what it seemed. No one was who they were pretending to be.

It was odd to be there, running a major operation a few hundred metres from where he used to live. He knew this area so well.

Fabel, code name Kaiser One, was on the third floor of one of the grand villas on Harvestehuder Weg which looked out over the trees, across the Alsterpark and over the Outer Alster itself. The Polizei Hamburg had been able to secure the permission of the owner, a prominent Hamburg businessman keen to be seen cooperating with the authorities. It was the best vantage point they could find: from here, with the binoculars, Fabel could see almost everything happening within the immediate area of the Fährdamm. The Fährdamm was a quay for the small red and white ferries that criss-crossed the Alster, Hamburg’s inner-city lake. Running past the Fährdamm and along the water’s edge all the way around the Alster was the Alsterpromenade. If she came, she would come along the Alsterpromenade or down the tree-lined avenue leading from Pöseldorf to the Fährdamm.
She could park a car there. Fabel saw the official Hamburg City works van sitting to one side of the avenue with a group of park workers standing smoking outside it: the MEK unit he had requested to assist them.

Beside the ferry point was a café-bar, closed at this time of day, and on the other side a row of benches where people could sit and contemplate the views across the lake. Fabel’s view of the bench itself was still partly obscured, even in winter, by a tangle of naked tree branches.

A thickset figure with greying hair sat on the bench. Kaiser Two: Werner. Fabel felt a knot in his chest. Werner looked too heavy for Drescher. The Kevlar bulletproof vest was adding to his bulk. What if she didn’t go for it? The Valkyrie had been meeting with Drescher like this for nearly twenty years. What if she recognised the sham from a distance? What if she were just to walk away, realising that Drescher must be either dead or in custody, that her relationship with her control was compromised? The thought of the Valkyrie out there on her own, uncontrolled and untraceable, sent a chill through Fabel.

‘There’s a woman approaching,’ one of the undercover officers radioed in. ‘I think she came in from Milchstrasse.’

Fabel picked out the woman with his binoculars. She was tall and slim but he couldn’t tell her age easily and her hair was hidden by a heavy woollen hat. She was carrying a shoulder bag.

‘She’s heading down onto the path,’ said the officer.

‘Follow her,’ ordered Fabel. ‘Werner, she’s going to approach from your right. Remember what we discussed.’

As Fabel expected, and as they had arranged, Werner didn’t reply by radio. Instead he opened a copy of the
Hamburger Morgenpost
and turned his back to the approaching woman, resting his arm on the back of the bench as if to prop up the broadsheet newspaper.

‘She’s closing in,’ Fabel said over the radio, using one hand
to keep the binoculars trained on her. She wasn’t walking quickly, almost strolling. ‘Herzog Five … close the gap between you and her. I want you ready to assist Kaiser Two if he needs it.’

Fabel could see the officer following her. Further back there was a young woman in jogging gear, using the railings as a bar against which to do stretching exercises. Anna Wolff. Sweeping the binoculars along the path past Werner he could see a man and woman dressed in smart dark coats and business wear, standing having a conversation: both planted police officers. Herzog Five, following the woman, was a young male officer dressed casually in a black-hooded jacket. He had closed the distance between him and the woman. The woman stopped and leaned against the railing at the water’s edge. She seemed to be looking out across the Alster to the distant spires that rose above the city.

‘
Shit
,’ said Fabel in English. ‘Don’t stop …
don’t stop
…’ he said under his breath, willing the officer following the woman to keep walking. He did. He kept his step and pace unbroken and walked straight past her.

‘She’s one hundred metres from the bench,’ the officer said over the radio. ‘I’m going to pass Kaiser Two. There’s a bench twenty metres past him. I’ll sit there and wait.’

‘No,’ said Fabel decisively. ‘Turn up the path towards Milchstrasse and cut back along Harvestehuder Weg. Herzog Four – where are you?’

‘I’m still in position,’ answered Anna Wolff. ‘South-west corner. I have the woman in sight.’

‘Get over there as fast as you can without drawing attention to yourself. Herzog Six and Seven, stay where you are but be ready to move in.’

He watched Anna as she started jogging in the woman’s direction.

‘She’s on the move again,’ said Anna over the radio.

Fabel swept the binoculars along the path.

‘All units, stand by.’

The woman was now less than ten metres from Werner. Five. Two.

She walked past him without so much as a glance in his direction.

‘Do I stick with her?’ asked Anna.

Fabel was still tracking the woman with his binoculars. She greeted a man coming in the opposite direction, looping her arm through his. Fabel watched as the couple turned off the Alsterpromenade and headed off together up the avenue towards Pöseldorf.

‘It’s obviously not her. She’s meeting someone.’ He felt his heart sink. He knew then that she wouldn’t be coming. She was probably doing exactly what he was doing at that moment: surveying the scene from a distance, through binoculars, and failing to be convinced by Werner’s unconvincing wig and too bulky frame.

‘Stay sharp,’ Fabel said into his radio. ‘She’s maybe still going to show.’ He scanned the Alsterpromenade, following it from the south, along the water’s edge and up to the Fährdamm. Nothing. He saw Werner still sitting on the bench. He followed the couple walking arm in arm up the avenue and past the MEK troops dressed as park workers. He noticed the dark Lycra-clad Anna jogging past them.

‘Herzog Four,’ he radioed to Anna. ‘Loop round and take up your previous location.’

Anna didn’t reply.

‘Herzog Four, do you read me?’

‘Stand by …’ Over the radio, he heard Anna breathing hard as she ran. He watched her through the binoculars. She stopped jogging and leaned forward, hands on her knees, as if exhausted from a much longer run than her brief jog. The couple, arm in arm, passed her.

Anna straightened up and pressed her hands into the small of her back, stretching her spine. A casual gesture.

‘She-wolf! She-wolf! She-wolf!’ Anna’s voice over the radio was so urgent and excited that Fabel found himself looking at her casual figure again. Then the adrenalin surged into his system, slowing time. ‘Herzog Four to Kaiser One, I have a visual on She-wolf.’