‘So you think it was this partner that had Vuja i c killed?’
‘Almost definitely. Vuja i c was nothing if he wasn’t a negotiator. All through his questioning he had kept shtum about the identity of the moneyman. He knew that if his defence of entrapment didn’t work, he could do a deal by giving up the name of his backer. But anyway, if we go back to the conversation we recorded on the boat… Vuja i c had mentioned that the moneyman had a contract killer who was the best in the business. Vuja i c claimed that this contract killer had cleaned up the competition for him at the behest of this sleeping partner. He also claimed this killer went by the name of the Valkyrie, that she was a woman. And he claimed that if the circumstances called for it, this killer was an expert at making the deaths look like accidents or natural causes. Oh, and by the way, the crooked businessman we used to set Vuja i c up also died prematurely.’
‘So that’s why you want our pathologist to check closely for puncture marks or anything unusual…’
‘Exactly. But Vuja i c had more to say about the Valkyrie. And this is where it gets really interesting for you: he claimed that she was based here. In Hamburg.’
Fabel leaned back in the leather sofa and gazed out across the empty lounge and through the vast plate-glass windows to the Alsterfleet beyond. ‘You believe this?’
‘Jens did. But, like I said, he didn’t share information the way he should have. And from what I’ve seen of your report, his laptop and notebooks have disappeared as well.’
‘I thought he was travelling surprisingly light. And we were pretty sure his cellphone was wiped. But we didn’t know for sure that stuff had been taken. I’ll get someone to start questioning the staff.’
Vestergaard shook her head. ‘No point. His stuff wasn’t filched by immigrant cleaners. Whoever murdered Jens took them.’
‘If he was murdered. But, from what you say, if his death is foul play then everything would seem to point to this Valkyrie,’ said Fabel. He found his thoughts wandering: as head of the Hamburg Murder Commission, it was no small thing for Fabel to be told that an internationally active contract killer was based in his city.
‘It would be a natural assumption. Of course, you do know that this Valkyrie may not even exist. And if he or she does, then it’s by no means certain that he or she is based in Hamburg. It could simply be that communication is channelled through here somehow.’
‘Jespersen wasn’t killed by a communication channel,’ said Fabel. ‘What else have you got?’
‘I checked what I could of Jens’s paperwork in Copenhagen. Also his Internet history, et cetera. He had piles — and I mean piles — of research material on the former East German police and security apparatus, he had detailed lists of former officers of the Volkspolizei, as I think you called it, and, of course, masses of stuff on the Stasi.’
‘And you think that this is connected somehow with this supposed Hamburg hit woman?’
‘I don’t know. Maybe there’s no connection. But Jens was very focused on this investigation. Officially he was looking for Vuja i c ’s killer, but his attitude towards the case was bordering on the obsessive. Anyway, there were a few names — of former Stasi people, I mean — which he seemed to take a very special interest in. One above all others, a Major Georg Drescher, seemed to be the main focus of his attentions. Interestingly, from what I can see, Drescher simply vanished into thin air as soon as the Wall came down. Drescher worked for the HVA department of the Stasi. The espionage wing. My guess is that as soon as Drescher sensed the wind changing direction in eighty-nine, he used his Stasi resources to set up under a new identity. Maybe even here in West Germany. But why Jens was so interested in Drescher, I don’t know for sure. Having read through the notes, I reckon that Drescher would appear to have been a major figure in the recruitment and training of agents for deployment in the West.’
‘So you think this “Valkyrie” is an ex-Stasi agent?’
‘It would make sense.’
Fabel frowned. He did the arithmetic and somehow the idea of a now middle-aged woman carrying out such efficient assassinations didn’t add up. ‘Let’s not get ahead of ourselves. We’ll see what the autopsy reveals and then explore all possibilities. Anything else?’
‘A few other names. Notes on Vuja i c ’s contacts, that kind of thing. A couple of strange things as well… you’ve heard of Gennady Frolov?’
‘The Russian oligarch?’
‘That’s the one. Personal wealth valued at twelve and a half billion. Jens had made a whole lot of notes about him. Just general stuff and not a dossier.’
‘Vuja i c ’s moneyman?’
‘I doubt it,’ said Vestergaard. ‘I did a bit of digging and compared with most of the other oligarchs Frolov is Snow White. But it is all a bit odd. As well as Frolov, Jens had tons of information and corporate literature on Vantage North, the ship designers and builders in Flensburg. They designed and built Frolov’s luxury yacht, the Snow Queen.’
‘And you’re sure that Frolov couldn’t be the moneyman behind Vuja i c?’
‘It doesn’t make sense. The supply of narcotics to Scandinavia and Northern Germany is a multimillion-dollar business — but that’s still peanuts to the likes of Frolov. The risk of conviction would vastly outweigh any benefit.’
Fabel leaned back for a moment and rubbed his chin as he thought. ‘Who is Olaf?’
‘Olaf?’
‘In Jespersen’s notebook — he wrote the name Olaf. Do you know who that could be?’
Vestergaard frowned. ‘I know a hell of a lot of Olafs, and so did Jens. But I can’t think of anyone in particular.’
‘Was there anything else in Jespersen’s notes that could be useful?’
‘No. Not really.’ Karin Vestergaard reached into her attache case and pulled out a file. ‘But maybe you’ll see some relevance in something I’ve missed. I’ve got a copy of everything in here.’
Fabel reached out to take the file from Vestergaard but she held it firm for a moment. ‘I’ve shared all I have, Mr Fabel. I take it you intend to live up to your part of the bargain?’
‘I told you I would give you my fullest cooperation.’ The irritation was evident in Fabel’s tone. ‘I will keep you informed of everything as it happens.’
‘Then I’m sure we’ll get along fine,’ said Vestergaard, with a smile devoid of warmth, and let go of the file.
Chapter Three
1
After Birta picked up the hire car from the municipal car park and drove out of Oslo, she tossed the ticket out of the window as she cleared the city limits. When she returned the car there would be no evidence that she had ever been in Oslo or even in Norway. She had programmed several false destinations around Stockholm into the car’s satnav system, the sum of which would account for the kilometres accrued on the odometer. Throughout her trip she had observed every speed limit, every traffic regulation. And because she hadn’t stopped over in a hotel and had paid for all fuel with cash, there was no evidence that she had crossed the border.
Birta switched on the music system and Wolfgang Haffner filled the car. The German jazz and the Norwegian winter landscape fitted together perfectly and she eased back into her seat. But she found she couldn’t stop thinking back to the cafe and the woman with her children.
Birta’s client’s place was to the north of Drobak, set deep into the forest on the shore of a small lake. She knew he worked from home and this had been the ideal location for a meeting. She had even identified the ideal window in his schedule.
She parked in a car park in Drobak: she had established in her reconnaissance that it was unmetered and not overlooked by CCTV cameras. She changed in the back of the car, pulling on three layers of thick woollen socks, partly to keep out the cold but mainly to allow the heavy oversized men’s boots she then put on to fit her: carrying out a meeting in snow was a blessing and a curse at the same time. She would leave the tracks she wanted, where she wanted. But she’d have to take care not to leave unintentional signs of her passing.