‘You could have phoned her.’
‘This isn’t something I want to discuss with her over the phone. I choose the right time and place. You should try it, Renate. Anyway, Gabi’s choice of career is hardly pressing: she hasn’t even sat her Abitur yet.’
‘Trouble?’ asked Werner when Fabel came off the phone. Anna and Werner had been standing awkwardly during the exchange.
‘The worst kind. Renate. Gabi is thinking about a career in the police. I’m a bad influence, according to Renate.’
‘I wouldn’t have wanted one of my daughters doing this job,’ said Werner.
‘Oh yeah? So what if you had a son?’ asked Anna.
‘You know I don’t have a son, so I don’t know. It’s got nothing to do with gender politics, Anna.’
Fabel took a deep breath. ‘Ready? Then let’s go and walk amongst the exalted…’
They stood waiting outside van Heiden’s office for five minutes. But they weren’t invited in; instead van Heiden emerged from his office, putting on his suit jacket as he did so.
‘Follow me.’ As he spoke, van Heiden cast a disapproving eye over Anna’s jeans and T-shirt.
Hamburg’s Police Presidium had been built in the form of a giant Police Star, the symbol of police forces throughout Germany. The entire Presidium was built around a central circular atrium open to the sky: all office suites, including the Murder Commission, radiated out as the arms of the star from its circular hallways. Fabel, Werner and Anna followed van Heiden along the sweep of the fifth-floor corridor until they came to doors of the Presidial Department. This was where Hugo Steinbach — Hamburg’s Police President — and his deputies had their offices.
‘Police President Steinbach has asked to be involved in this meeting,’ explained van Heiden. He paused for a moment and turned to Fabel. ‘Listen, Jan, I don’t like being caught on the back foot. What have you told Herr Steinbach?’
‘Nothing,’ said Fabel. ‘I thought you-’
Van Heiden shook his head. ‘Looks like we’re both on the back foot. I suppose we’d better find out.’
When they arrived at the Presidial Department, they weren’t directed to Steinbach’s office but were told to go straight into the conference room. When they entered, Fabel was surprised to see Karin Vestergaard sitting at the conference table next to Hugo Steinbach. The Police President stood up and shook hands with van Heiden and then with Fabel. Steinbach was the opposite of van Heiden in many ways. Van Heiden could be nothing other than a policeman and somehow managed to wear his smartly tailored Hugo Boss suits as if they were uniforms. In complete contrast, Hugo Steinbach was softly spoken and had an avuncular, easygoing appearance. To look at Hamburg’s Police President, one would have taken him for a schoolteacher or some rural family doctor. The truth was Steinbach was highly unusual for an officer of his rank in Germany. He had not entered the police at senior level but had started out as a uniformed beat Polizeimeister and had worked his way up through every rank. Fabel knew that part of that journey had involved being head of the Polizei Berlin’s murder squad. Fabel respected Steinbach as an officer, but he also liked him as a person.
‘I know you wanted to talk to Criminal Director van Heiden about what Frau Vestergaard discussed with you yesterday, but I thought we should all have a chat about it. If you don’t mind, Jan.’
‘Hello, Frau Vestergaard,’ said Fabel in English. ‘I thought we were meeting later to discuss this. I had hoped to brief Herr van Heiden, as Herr Steinbach has suggested.’
‘I’m afraid events have moved on a little from then,’ said Vestergaard without a hint of apology. ‘New information has come to light and I felt it would be appropriate to discuss it with Mr Steinbach.’
‘Why don’t we all sit down?’ said Steinbach in a clear attempt to ease the tension between Fabel and Vestergaard. ‘And perhaps you should update Herr van Heiden on what this is all about.’
Once they were seated, Fabel outlined Vestergaard’s theory about the Hamburg-based contract killer and Jespersen’s death not being natural. Vestergaard sat silently throughout Fabel’s commentary in German, her expression as impossible to read as it had been the day before.
‘How sure are we that this so-called Valkyrie is based in Hamburg?’ asked Steinbach when Fabel was finished.
‘With the greatest respect to Frau Vestergaard and her deceased colleague, there is absolutely no proof that the Valkyrie even exists.’ Fabel looked again at the Danish policewoman. There was no sign that she understood what he was saying in German. But there again, he thought, she wouldn’t show it even if she did. ‘To be frank, Herr President, I feel that our foreign colleague here is not being as communicative as she might be.’
‘You think there’s more to this?’ asked Steinbach.
‘I don’t know. In fact, there may be less to her story than meets the eye. And I have to be honest, with this supposed resurrection of the Angel of St Pauli, I can well do without some wild-goose chase. But we’ll get the autopsy report on Jespersen this afternoon.’
‘I see,’ said Steinbach. ‘What do you think, Horst?’
‘I think we can’t afford to ignore the possibility. There are those in the international security community who feel we dropped the ball in not nailing the so-called “Hamburg Cell” before they launched the attack on the World Trade Center. It could be embarrassing if we were seen to have had advance warning of this assassin operating from Hamburg and then for something to happen. A political assassination abroad, for example.’ Van Heiden turned to Fabel. ‘Sorry, Jan… I understand you’re under pressure with this Angel case, but we have to treat this seriously.’
‘I agree. Especially if the autopsy throws up something.’
Vestergaard cleared her throat.
‘I’m sorry…’ Fabel said in English. Then, to the others: ‘Maybe we should all speak in English from now on, for Frau Vestergaard’s sake.’
‘Natural,’ said van Heiden in heavily accented English. ‘We will, of course, you bet.’
The look Vestergaard fired at Fabel eloquently communicated an ‘I-told-you-so’ reminder of their conversation about the difference between how Danes and Germans spoke English.
‘I think Frau Vestergaard has something you should hear,’ said Police President Steinbach. ‘Please, Frau Vestergaard.’
‘My office in Copenhagen has been in touch with me,’ she said. ‘They in turn were notified by the Norwegian National Criminal Investigation Department of an incident in Drobak, near Oslo. This incident, which involved the murder of two men, took place yesterday evening.’
Vestergaard paused while she took her notebook from her bag.
‘Jorgen Halvorsen is — was — a leading investigative journalist for newspapers and magazines throughout Scandinavia,’ she said, referring to the notebook. ‘He was a Norwegian by birth but worked in Copenhagen for a great many years. He moved back to Norway about five years ago. For the sake of his health, you could say. He made some heavyweight enemies in Denmark and Sweden. You see, Halvorsen had two specific areas of interest, areas that were not always mutually exclusive: the extreme right in Europe, and corporate and political corruption. He was assassinated yesterday evening in his home in Drobak. His family were away overnight, so the timing suggests surveillance of the house. Also, Halvorsen was planning a trip abroad. The Far East. Where exactly in the Far East and for what reason we don’t know. But it suggests the killer knew Halvorsen’s schedule and everything points to a timed, planned killing — except that Halvorsen’s gardener obviously happened along at the wrong moment. He was the other victim. Single knife wound to the heart.’
‘And you think this is the work of the alleged Hamburg Valkyrie?’ asked Fabel.
‘It could be…’ Vestergaard shrugged. ‘It was a highly professional job. The other thing is that the Norwegian police had been keeping an on-off eye on Halvorsen’s house.’
‘Why?’ asked Fabel.