‘So they obviously wiped anything incriminating when they saw us coming?’
‘To tell the truth, I just don’t know.’ Kroeger’s long face looked greyer and grimmer that usual. ‘I’m sorry. Normally we can tell when data’s been wiped and more often than not, unless the hard disk’s been truly trashed — and I mean physically damaged — we can usually retrieve erased files. But it’s not that they’ve dumped what we’re looking for, it’s more that it wasn’t there to begin with.’
‘I can’t believe there isn’t anything on their mainframe or whatever the hell you call it.’ Fabel’s frustration was beginning to boil over into anger. ‘I thought you and your geeks were supposed to be the best in the business. I think you’ve met your match. The Pharos Project has simply outgunned and outsmarted you.’
Kroeger seemed to consider Fabel’s words; there was no hint of him having taken offence at what Fabel had said.
‘No…’ he said contemplatively. ‘No, I don’t think that’s it at all. We would have found something. You can’t wipe all trace of previous data from computers. The only anomaly we can find is that a lot of the data we are looking at has been updated within the last few hours. New files. And some of them have had update times manipulated. But I think it ties in with what happened with your cellphone.’
‘What do you mean?’ asked Werner.
‘We’re looking for a high-tech solution to these problems,’ said Kroeger, creasing his high forehead with a frown. ‘Maybe it’s a lot simpler than that. I think that the Pharos Project has physically dumped all of its data. I think that several of the computers we are examining have been brought in from elsewhere, or at least the hard drives have been swapped over. The original drives are at the bottom of the Elbe or have been crushed in some waste plant. That would explain there being so many new files on some of the key computers, particularly in the Office of Consolidation and Compliance. The server in there looks brand new. My thinking is that they’ve brought these computers in from their other operations, loaded with harmless data, and then added some Pharos-specific stuff to make it look like they’ve been there for months.’
‘What’s that got to do with my cellphone?’
‘I think they did the same with that. I think the phone I’ve been examining isn’t yours at all. It’s a substitute. A clone. And your network isn’t your network. They’ve faked it all so that you’ve been connected to their network and the whole time they were monitoring you through it.’
Fabel thought about what the Cybercrime officer had said. ‘So you’re saying that you’re not going to find anything on their system? Wiegand’s going to walk if you don’t, Kroeger, you do realise that?’
‘I can’t find what’s not there,’ replied Kroeger, ‘And I honestly think we’re looking in the wrong place at the wrong time. If only we had got into the network before they swapped drives… If you’re right and Meliha Yazar did get something on them, then you’ve got to find it, if it still exists.’
There was a perfunctory knock on the door and Anna stepped in.
‘Sorry to disturb you, Chef, but there’s something I think you might want to see.’
‘What?’
‘What looks like a suicide, over in Wilhelmsburg.’
‘And what makes it interesting?’
‘Two things. Firstly it would appear the guy committed suicide using an Exit Bag, just like the invalid, Reisch. The second thing is that the dead man’s neighbour insists he speak to you. He asked for you by name…’
‘This isn’t the same,’ said Fabel as soon as he walked into the apartment. ‘We need a forensics team up here.’
He walked over to where the massive bulk of the dead man lay slumped over the computer desk. From a distance, Fabel had had difficulty identifying the shape as human. It had appeared more like a large, formless dark mass. Unlike Reisch’s Exit Bag, ballooned up with helium, the plastic bag over this man’s face was sucked in tight.
‘You don’t think this is suicide?’ asked Anna, who had accompanied Fabel to the scene.
‘He’s got a plastic bag over his head, but there’s no helium canister or other inert gas. This guy’s gone out with every instinct screaming for breath. It would take an enormous effort of will to sit there without your hands tied and not tear the plastic bag off your head.’
‘I don’t see him as the willpower type, somehow,’ said Anna gravely. ‘Especially around pastry. Whatever it was that killed him, it wasn’t anorexia…’
‘You’re all heart, Commissar Wolff.’
‘If there’s anyone with an enlarged heart around here, it’s not me. How much do you think this guy weighed?’
‘God knows. Close on two hundred kilos.’
‘What’s up?’ Anna read the frown on Fabel’s face.
‘Do you see all this computer equipment? There must be thousands of euros’ worth here.’
‘I’m guessing he didn’t get out much,’ said Anna.
‘No, this is more that that. There’s something professional about this set-up. I can’t help but think this could be tied in with the whole Pharos Project thing.’
‘Could be a coincidence. By the way, do you really think Daniel Fottinger was the Network Killer?’
‘I’m convinced of it. Kroeger and his boffins have seized Fottinger’s computer, not that they’ll find anything there, but they’ve also got a court order to get his records from his internet service provider, as well as his cellphone accounts. Even if I can’t prove it, I’d put a year’s pay on us not seeing another victim.’ Fabel nodded towards the slumped body. ‘What did the police surgeon say about this?’
‘That he’s been dead for a while, that he clearly had a history of breathing problems, going by the gear in the bedroom and some of the medication. It would have been quick and easy with the bag. Maybe that’s why there’s no helium.’
‘Where’s this neighbour who insists on seeing me?’ asked Fabel.
‘Downstairs.’
Jetmir Dallaku was agitated. Impatient. It was clear that he had been waiting for some time for Fabel to call.
‘Are you Principal Chief Commissar Jan Fabel of the Polizei Hamburg?’ The small, wiry Albanian posed the question with such earnestness and formality that Fabel had to suppress a grin.
‘I am, yes. You wanted to see me?’
‘Do you have badge? Card? With name on?’
Fabel glanced at a smirking Anna, then reached into his jacket pocket and held out his police ID. Dallaku studied it with a frown.
‘Herr Kraxner, upstairs. He knew someone come to do something bad.’
‘He told you this?’ asked Fabel.
‘Yes. He said that if anything bad happen to him, I am to speak to you. Only you, and give you this…’ He reached into his pocket and took out a carefully folded envelope. ‘Herr Kraxner… he was sad man. Lonely man. Why anybody hurt him?’
Fabel stared at the envelope for a moment, seeing his own name written on it, then looked up at the ceiling as if he could see through it and into the dead man’s apartment.
‘Klabautermann…’
‘What?’ said Anna.
Fabel snapped his attention back to her. ‘Get on to Kroeger. I’ve got more work for him. Tell him I want every piece of hardware taken out of that apartment and subjected to the same scrutiny as the Pharos Project stuff.’
‘He was the guy who phoned you?’ Anna asked. ‘The guy who said he had something to tell you?’
Fabel looked again at the envelope in his hands. ‘I think he probably still has.’
Chapter Thirty-Five
‘I trust you slept well?’ asked Fabel, taking his seat opposite Wiegand. The truth was that the billionaire looked as fresh as if he had spent the night in the Hotel Vier Jahreszeiten. A complete change of clothes had been brought in for him by Korn-Pharos staff. Amelie Harmsen looked similarly composed and fresh.
‘The accommodation was tolerable,’ said Wiegand. ‘But let’s put it this way, I intend checking out today. Within the hour, in fact. And my stay is going to prove an expensive one. For the Polizei Hamburg, that is.’