Broken Glass

by Alexander Hartung

  Asking for drugs would have been far too obvious. Leo would know Nik had seen the handover. He moved in closer to Leo and glanced around the corridor as if he was trying to make sure nobody was listening. ‘You know, maybe a bit of harmless fun with a young lady? The guests in here are far too old for me.’

  Leo looked Nik up and down once more, still unsure what to make of him. ‘Then today’s your lucky day, my friend,’ he said at last. ‘Every second Wednesday we organise an informal little party in the yoga room.’

  ‘A party?’ Nik asked, impressed. ‘I thought drugs were banned here.’

  ‘Well, loud music isn’t a drug,’ Leo explained. ‘And none of the patients here are sex addicts, so the staff kind of turn a blind eye for the night and let a select group of . . . ladies come to the party.’ He shrugged his shoulders, proud of his little venture. ‘There’ll be virgin cocktails, milkshakes and tasty finger food.’

  ‘Sounds perfect.’

  ‘Kicks off at eight. So see you then.’ Leo patted Nik on the shoulder and walked away. Nik waited until his new friend was out of sight before going back to his room. He now knew how Olga had ended up in the clinic and was intrigued to see what else he’d find out at the party.

  Nik had never been to the yoga room before, but he assumed the loud music was coming from there and followed the noise. The bass was booming, making the windows vibrate and there was a DJ in the corner of the room. He was wearing headphones and playing with knobs on a mixing desk. Next to him was a table filled with Spanish tapas, Greek olives and bitesize wholegrain canapes. Another man stood behind a small bar cutting up fresh fruit, which he then used to mix bright red drinks. A young woman was assisting him. She would collect any empty glasses, wash them and hand out fresh drinks. There were male guests standing in the middle of the room talking to young women. Going by their tight-fitting clothes and high heels, there was no question why the women were there. At the side of the room was a dark, handsome man talking to three of the female residents. He looked like a Spanish bullfighter: tall and strong, with long dark curls that fell past his shoulders. You could see his well-formed, hair-free chest under his white see-through shirt. Nik counted sixteen patients but no staff. No Alois to monitor their behaviour, no Gunnar to keep the peace and no Pia . . . being Pia.

  ‘Nik!’ Someone called his name over the music. Leo came over to him and hugged him. ‘It’s cool if I call you Nik, isn’t it?’ He was back to his usual self again and didn’t give off a hint of distrust as he went to shake Nik’s hand. ‘My name’s Leopold von Waldbach but friends call me Leo.’

  ‘Nice to meet you.’

  Leo passed him one of the red drinks. ‘Tastes like a strawberry margarita, just without the tequila.’

  They said cheers and Nik took a sip. The strawberries were deliciously fresh despite the time of year and the drink had just the right amount of syrup. But without the tequila, it lacked that all-important kick.

  Nik noticed one young woman in particular. She was barely eighteen, with dyed red hair, and she towered over most of the guests in her high-heeled boots. She was wearing dark blue lipstick and a very light foundation. Her full backside curved perfectly, and was enhanced further by her short black leather skirt.

  ‘Our number one product,’ said Leo as he caught sight of Nik’s face.

  ‘How d’you get the girls in?’

  ‘Got a little deal going with the management,’ explained Leo. ‘Patients were pouncing on each other, you know. Wasn’t exactly making for the best atmosphere and took a toll on the success of the treatment.’ He took a sip of his drink. ‘So now they let in a group of prostitutes every fortnight to deal with the urges. The female patients seem pretty content too.’ He gestured with his head towards the bullfighter.

  ‘And how does it work?’ Nik asked. ‘Do I need a number or something?’

  ‘It’s done according to how long you’ve been staying here. My fat friend over there, Waldemar, he’s always here. Last time he came in, he’d been found in a champagne bath with a blood alcohol level of three point one. Had to be resuscitated. That was four months ago.’

  ‘Long time to be in rehab.’

  ‘Yeah, you’d think so. But Waldemar’s only in sixth place.’ He turned back to Nik. ‘So, why you here then?’

  ‘Too many parties, too much alcohol and too many exceptions,’ Nik began. ‘Or at least that’s what my dad said. So he gave me a choice. Either I go to rehab or he pulls the plug on my inheritance and his local Bavarian folk club gets enough money to buy lederhosen and dirndls for all eternity.’ Nik took a sip of his cocktail. ‘And you?’

  ‘Repeat offences for driving without a licence under the influence of drugs,’ said Leo. ‘Even my well-paid lawyer couldn’t save me from jail last time after I hit a school bus at a hundred and twenty.’

  ‘Hundred and twenty? That’s not that fast.’

  ‘In a pedestrian zone it is,’ added Leo.

  ‘Oh.’

  ‘Been here for four weeks and I’m still waiting for the doctor to say I’m good to go home.’

  ‘Nothing you can do? Say you’ll donate a load of money for another yoga room or something?’

  ‘Already tried,’ replied Leo. ‘As well as loads of other things. But nobody gets out of here unless you play along.’ He took Nik’s glass. ‘These strawberry smoothies are boring.’ He changed the subject. ‘The bartender’s made something new for us.’ He went over to the bar and spoke to the young man, who handed over two glasses. Leo passed one to Nik.

  ‘Champine,’ explained Leo. ‘A non-alcoholic champagne made from fizzy water and pine needles.’ He raised his glass to Nik’s and downed the drink in one. Nik did the same. It tasted awful, like pressed tree bark. It took all his effort not to spray the whole lot back out again. ‘And? What d’you think?’

  ‘Disgusting.’

  Leo laughed and patted him on the shoulder. ‘Don’t worry. I’ve got two hours until the redhead’s taking me to my room. We’ll find something you like.’

  Nik’s next drink was called Seedlip, a clear water that had been infused with herbs and spices. And the one after that, a mixture of vegetable juice and woodruff vinegar. And it was while drinking the vegetable juice that Nik noticed his knees start to shake.

  ‘You all right?’ asked Leo.

  ‘You sure there’s no alcohol in these?’ Nik asked. The room started to spin and the bass got deeper and slower. He tried to lean on the wall.

  ‘Can I get some help over here?’ Nik heard Leo say. ‘Our newbie’s not doing so well.’ It was the last thing Nik heard before he sank to the floor, unconscious.

  Nik woke up in his bed still in his clothes from the night before. His head ached, and he still had the awful taste of pine needles in his mouth. His eyelids were stuck together with a layer of gluey sleep. His watch said 9.23 a.m., which meant he’d missed breakfast. But that wasn’t a problem. The thought of food made him retch. He staggered slowly into the bathroom and turned on the cold tap. He let the cold water run over his head until he could think again. He picked up the towel and dried his hair while looking at himself in the mirror. Despite the extortionate haircut, he looked terrible. His eyes were red and swollen and there was a large patch of saliva on the arm of his crumpled shirt. His top button had been ripped off. Nik chucked the towel in the shower and went over to his cupboard, where he pulled out his metal suitcase. Down beside the wheels was a tiny hidden compartment. He used a thin nail file to open it and pulled out a mini folding phone. The X-ray machine in the clinic wasn’t as powerful as the ones at airports, so a little lead covering had been enough to get it past the staff. He turned on the phone and was surprised at how good the reception was. There had to be a radio mast not far from the clinic. He looked up Jon’s number and pressed call.

  ‘Morning,’ Jon said after the second ring.

  ‘Hello,’ Nik growled. His voice was coarse.

  ‘If you weren’t currently sitting in a rehab clinic, I’d swear
you’d pulled an all-nighter.’

  ‘That’s basically what happened. Except this time it wasn’t down to me. Someone spiked my drink.’

  ‘What? Did you ask the wrong questions or something?’ asked Jon.

  ‘Didn’t even get that far but whoever it was searched my room while I was asleep.’

  ‘And you noticed that even though you were drugged?’

  ‘No,’ Nik barked. ‘I used the hair trick.’

  ‘No idea what you’re talking about.’

  ‘You should watch more old Bond films.’ Nik grabbed a bottle of water from the fridge and took a swig. ‘You stick a hair over the gap between the cupboard door and the frame. If you do it down at the bottom no one can see it. And when the door’s opened, the hair falls to the ground.’

  ‘And was there a hair on the ground under your cupboard?’

  ‘Yes,’ said Nik before downing the rest of the water. ‘But it’s actually a good sign someone drugged me and searched the room. Means they’re wary of nosy patients and trying to hide something.’

  ‘Who was it?’

  ‘A new friend. But I don’t know if he’s got anything to do with our case or if he’s just afraid I’ll blab to someone about his drug business.’ Nik started a new bottle. ‘Did you link Viola to the clinic yet?’

  ‘No,’ answered Jon. ‘I know how Olga ended up inside but I’ve got no idea what Viola’s got to do with it. Maybe she’s got a file in there.’

  ‘Doubt it, but I’m gonna have to speed things up in here. I’ll start dropping her name. Maybe someone will react to that. And in the meantime I’ll see if there’s a file for Kathrin.’

  ‘I tried all night to access clinic data but didn’t get anywhere – it’s like the clinic isn’t online.’

  ‘It isn’t,’ Nik confirmed. ‘My therapist’s got an old-fashioned hanger file for me and writes all his notes by hand. And he’s got two cabinets in his room with enough space for hundreds of files. The computer in his room is either just for show or used for other things.’

  ‘God, that is old-fashioned,’ mumbled Jon.

  ‘Yeah, but secure,’ said Nik. ‘Means hackers like you or journalists can’t download the data.’

  ‘True. So how d’you plan on checking to see if Kathrin was there?’

  ‘The old-fashioned way too. Pick some locks.’

  ‘I put your lock pick in the secret compartment,’ said Jon.

  ‘It’s no good. All the doors in here are electric. The staff use personalised key cards to open the locks. I’ll need to use my nimble fingers.’

  ‘You’ve got nimble fingers?’ Jon sounded astonished.

  ‘You’d be surprised,’ said Nik. ‘You learn a lot dealing with hundreds of break-ins and thefts at the CID.’ Nik was exhausted and sat down on the bed. ‘When everyone’s asleep, I’ll go and look at the filing cabinet. Let’s hope I find something.’

  Chapter 10

  Nik couldn’t think of a worse way to start the day than a conversation about addiction, his childhood and what he imagined himself doing in five years. There were all those patients in the clinic and it was actually Alois who needed therapy the most. But Alois had a doctorate in psychology, so he got to sit on the other side. And despite all his self-assurance, he wouldn’t have realised Nik was a police officer if Nik had gone in with his badge stuck to his forehead.

  But it was Alois’s self-adoration that gave Nik time to study the room. There were neither motion detectors nor cameras and the lock on the filing cabinet was very basic. The windows were made of security glass and the brackets on them were burglar proof. Not even a crowbar would break the window out of its hinges. Nik would have to get one of the employee’s key cards.

  The fact that the filing cabinet was locked was a good sign, as it meant other people probably had access to the room. And since all the locks in the clinic were identical, that was certainly a possibility.

  After an hour of chat, Nik made his way past the yoga room, towards the relaxation area. The yoga room was now completely void of any signs from yesterday’s party. He lay down on a massage table and let a robust young woman push him around for an hour. She squeezed out all the tension that had built up from the night before, while he sipped peacefully on a freshly squeezed orange juice. The essential oils were just the right strength, and for the first time since he’d arrived at the clinic, Nik was able to enjoy the perks of having bucketloads of money. Even if it wasn’t his own.

  After his massage, he wandered over to the swimming pool. It was twenty-five metres long, heated and situated in a lavish conservatory. All around the pool were loungers with thick cushions where guests could nap.

  Leo’s friend Waldemar was sitting on a chair reading a newspaper. There was a plate of sliced fruit and a large jug of water on a table beside him. The dressing gown barely covered his belly. He had short, thinning hair and long sideburns. All in all, with his wobbly chin, small protruding ears and pale skin, the man reminded Nik of Porky Pig. The only thing missing was the red bow tie. He was breathing heavily and scrunching his eyes up, as if he’d forgotten to put in his contact lenses. But his general demeanour was like that of a contented old man who’d just done a line of coke and had sex with a prostitute.

  ‘Good morning,’ Nik said, sitting himself down on a chair opposite Waldemar. The man looked up from his paper and squinted. He blinked for a couple of seconds while trying to work out if the face was familiar.

  ‘Name’s Nik.’ Nik offered his hand to Waldemar. ‘I’m a friend of Leopold’s.’

  ‘Ah, yes. Good old Leo.’ He put down his paper and shook Nik’s hand. ‘What would we do without him!’

  ‘Be high and dry, I assume,’ replied Nik. ‘Thank God for his contacts though. Staying off the booze is bad enough for me. Kicking anything else would be hell.’

  ‘You said it.’ Waldemar nodded in agreement.

  ‘How the hell does he do it?’ Nik began. ‘Getting all that stuff past security. Everyone’s luggage is screened.’

  ‘Wouldn’t want to know,’ Waldemar said, trying to move the conversation in a different direction. ‘As long as I get my stuff, I couldn’t care less.’

  ‘Yeah, you’re right.’ Nik caught on and changed the subject. ‘Great place though. So many things to do. It’s a blessing really.’

  ‘Who managed to get you in?’

  ‘Viola Rohe,’ said Nik. ‘She was here last year. Maybe you know her?’

  ‘Name doesn’t ring any bells,’ replied Waldemar genuinely. ‘And I’ve been here a lot.’

  ‘Nice woman,’ said Nik. ‘I’d love to tell you more about her but I’ve actually got an appointment in a minute. Maybe another time.’ He stood up and shook Waldemar’s hand again. ‘Was nice meeting you.’

  For the remainder of the morning, Nik roamed the clinic grounds, sat in the library and got roped into a game of shuffleboard. Everywhere he went, he’d start a conversation. He even told his cleaner a story in his room. By lunch time, he was losing his voice but he’d managed to drop Viola’s name into every conversation. Sometimes she was an acquaintance, sometimes a friend, and at other times just a distant relative. No one he spoke to knew her name but the seed had been planted and he was desperate to see if someone would react. After that, it was time to check out the security in the clinic. He wandered around, seemingly aimlessly, until he came to the back door. This was the door that the staff used to enter and leave, and out of bounds to patients, but Nik was new, so he was counting on the fact that nobody would think twice if he got a little lost. Beyond the back door was a room where the employees picked up their ID when they started their shift and dropped it off again before heading home. It was a procedure that exposed a sense of paranoia among the management. A fear that an ingenious hacker could get their hands on a card and make a copy. They wouldn’t be the first employers to stop staff taking their key cards home, but it was exactly this safety precaution that would help Nik with his investigation.

  He went ins
ide the building and looked around, acting confused. A muscular young man was standing behind a high counter, a bit like a reception desk. The man, who had a military haircut, wide shoulders and a straight back, appeared to be responsible for taking in and giving out the cards. He had hardly any facial hair and his cheeks were dotted with freckles. He clearly had nothing to do with looking after patients and was just a member of security. Behind him was the room where all the cards were stored. From where he was standing, Nik could just make out a man sitting on a chair watching a monitor, but nothing else.

  ‘Can I help you?’ asked the young man in a friendly manner.

  ‘I’m afraid I’m lost,’ said Nik, playing the confused patient to perfection.

  ‘No problem,’ replied the man. ‘Just go down the corridor and you’ll come to a glass door. Ring the buzzer and I’ll let you in. Then you’re back in the patient area.’

  ‘Great.’ Nik raised his hand to say thanks and goodbye. Now he knew where he could get his hands on an employee key card, his job here was done. For now.

  Nik wasn’t exactly heartbroken that he’d have to skip lunch. Having studied the menus for the week, he knew that Thursday’s lunch would consist of broccoli and red cabbage bake. The hour between twelve and one o’clock in the clinic seemed to be a sacred time. A time when everything came to a standstill. There were no therapy sessions, you couldn’t book a massage and even the cleaners parked up their trollies. It was only in and around the kitchen that a few people were still working. The staff had a separate dining hall, which could be seen from a specific spot in the east wing.

  Just before twelve, Nik walked over to a small, private room where the cleaners left their trollies. He squeezed himself into a bend in the corridor and closed his eyes, concentrating on the fast-approaching steps. The thick carpet made it difficult to hear, but he could tell it was a pair of women’s shoes. They squeaked with every step. Just before the person went to turn the corner, Nik took a step. His timing was perfect.