Normally, Nik would have inspected the whole building after getting inside but he knew that if Verbeck spotted him he’d run off. He wished he had his gun and hoped there weren’t any surprises waiting for him upstairs. Each stair creaked as he made his way up to the first floor but Verbeck carried on his telephone call regardless. His voice was calm, almost monotonous. It was the complete opposite of how he’d talked back at his house. There was a flat on the first floor with the front door missing. Nik went inside. The floorboards had been taken up and the lights on the ceiling had been covered for protection. Verbeck’s voice got louder the further Nik went inside the flat. He pushed a piece of tarpaulin out of the way and walked into a large room with bay windows. Verbeck was standing in front of the window. He’d taken off his headphones and his phone was in his pocket. Instead of being surprised to see Nik, his face was sad and full of remorse.
‘I’m sorry,’ he said, sinking his head.
Before Nik even had the chance to say something, he heard the clicking of a pistol hammer. A slim woman emerged from a side door, pointing a SIG P226 at Nik. It was an efficient and powerful gun and the distance between him and the woman was minimal. He’d have three bullets to the chest before he could scratch his head.
‘Hello, Herr Pohl. Nice to meet you at last.’ Her accent had a slightly north German twist. Nik raised his hands and looked harder at the woman. She was wearing a dark grey trouser suit, modern and exquisitely tailored. Her blonde hair was tied back. If it wasn’t for her big nose and yellow teeth, she would have been very attractive.
‘Do we know each other?’ Nik asked.
‘I know you,’ answered the woman calmly. ‘You’ve caused me quite a bit of hassle over the past few days.’
‘Because I messed up your connection with the CID?’
‘Herr Hübner wasn’t our only connection,’ she remarked. ‘But I’ll admit, he was one of the best. As was Dr Cüpper, who has had to go underground because of you. And now, without those two, there’s been a bit of a hole.’
‘Not to mention the clinic closure.’
‘Oh, we’ve got nothing to do with that,’ the woman said with a smile.
‘But you did have something to do with Roswitha, didn’t you?’ said Nik. ‘You hanged that girl outside my flat and left her to die.’ The woman shrugged her shoulders. ‘When Roswitha can talk again, she’ll tell me who it was and if you had anything to do with it, I swear you’re finished. And I swear it won’t be a nice death.’
She laughed. It was a mixture of surprise and arrogance. She knew without a doubt who would come out of the current situation the winner. ‘Why didn’t you just leave the case alone? Then nobody would’ve got hurt. Your colleague would still be alive, and I wouldn’t have to shoot you.’ She turned to Verbeck. ‘You should leave. Wouldn’t want you throwing up at the sight of blood.’ Verbeck nodded and walked off with his head still hung low.
Nik weighed up his options. The woman was too far away for him to grab her gun. She seemed calm and her hands were steady; she didn’t look like someone who would hesitate when it came to the crunch and was clearly experienced in this kind of situation, as if she’d been in the army or worked in security. The hallway was just one step backwards. One jump and he’d be near the staircase and away from the line of fire. But Nik had heard the scrunch of tarpaulin while they were talking, which meant a second person was waiting at the door, probably also holding a SIG in their hand.
A plan began to form in Nik’s mind. A very stupid, dangerous and painful plan. But it was his only chance of leaving this place alive. He sighed and waited until Verbeck had reached him on his way to the door. Then he grabbed him by the shoulders and shoved him into the blonde woman. Verbeck fell on top of her, breaking the line of fire. She would need a moment to push him off her. And it was in that exact moment when Nik made his move. He ran to the old-fashioned bay window, covered his head with his arms, closed his eyes and jumped through the glass. If he’d remembered correctly, he’d just miss the container and would land in the snow-covered garden. It hurt like hell when he hit the ground and he’d gathered so much momentum that he rolled, shoulder first, through a cherry laurel bush. He ignored the pain and moved along the ground to the container. He heard a shot. Then a second, louder shot from a bigger gun. So there had been a second person behind him. He felt the hissing of bullets pass his head. Pressed down to the ground, he made it over to the fence. The container was high enough so that the woman wouldn’t be able to shoot him from the first floor. His trousers were ripped at the right knee and blood was streaming down his left arm, probably from a shard of glass that had lodged itself under his skin. But he didn’t have the time to deal with it. He crawled to the pavement, then stood up and limped towards the main street. There was a stabbing pain in his knee but he had to get out of that side street. He took off his jacket and used it to cover his bleeding arm. When he got to the junction, he noticed a sign outside a restaurant advertising a lunch-time buffet. He opened the door, nodded to the staff with a friendly smile, and sat at a small table beside a group of senior citizens who had just got up to go to the buffet. Nik clenched his fists together under the table, trying to hide his pain. Fortunately, everyone in the place was far too engrossed in the buffet to take any notice of him. He sat with his back to the wall, not taking his eyes off the entrance. But neither Verbeck nor the blonde woman appeared. He was safe for the time being.
Chapter 14
Nik made his way by taxi to the U-Bahn, took it to the next station, and then walked for two blocks. He needed to make sure nobody was following him. When he arrived at his flat, Balthasar was waiting at the front door with a first-aid kit in his hand. While Nik got himself a beer from the fridge, Balthasar spread out his equipment in the living room. He cut Nik’s sleeve open and looked closely at the wound.
‘It’ll need eight stitches,’ he said, wiping away the blood and disinfecting Nik’s arm.
‘Let’s go then.’
‘Without anaesthetic?’
‘Wouldn’t be the first time.’ Nik took off his boots and pulled up his trouser leg. A large shard of glass had got wedged in his leg between his ankle and the middle of his calf. The pathologist nodded, impressed at the size of the wound. Nik took out his phone and called Jon.
‘What happened?’
‘I got away by the skin of my teeth. But we’re getting closer to our answer.’ Nik sucked in air through pursed lips and screwed up his eyes as Balthasar positioned the first stitch. ‘I met the person in charge of all the dirty work. Sorry, the woman in charge.’ Nik told Jon every detail. Her height, appearance, accent, hair colour and that unnervingly pale skin. ‘When we find the person giving her orders, we’ve got our culprit. Blondie only tidies up loose ends.’
‘I could put the info through the database but if she’s a pro I’m not going to find much.’
‘No, there’s no point. I’ll get the information out of Verbeck.’
‘It was him behind it all?’
‘No, Verbeck doesn’t have the balls or the brains to set up that kind of trap.’
‘So what d’you want with him then?’
‘Blondie’s number. That alone is worth a second visit. But this time I won’t be as friendly.’
‘Don’t forget your new girlfriend will be waiting for you,’ Jon warned.
‘Oh, I know. I’m sure they’re watching Verbeck’s place as we speak,’ said Nik. ‘I’ll need a diversion.’
‘What you thinking?’
‘The hire car is still outside Verbeck’s front door. Find some petty criminal who’s my height and size and give him the spare key. Whoever it is has to take the car and race it away past Verbeck’s house. If Blondie’s anywhere nearby, she’ll follow it and I’ll have time to get to Verbeck.’
‘And how are you going to get inside? He’ll not let you in a second time.’
‘With a sledgehammer.’
‘What?’
‘Like I told you, the windows a
re so secure breaking in is impossible. The front door had a safety lock that’s linked to the frame in six places. Getting in with a crowbar would take me ages so I’ll just smash the wooden door apart with a sledgehammer . . . and march on in.’
‘The police’ll be there in two minutes.’
‘I reckon it’ll be more like five. There’s no station nearby. And that’ll be enough time to at least get hold of his phone and beat him up until he hopefully gives me a name.’
‘Do you want to go to jail or something?’
‘I’ll put something over my face and take a couple of things away with me so it looks like a robbery. Hopefully, Verbeck will be high, so he can’t give the police a clear statement or spew out the real reason I was there.’
‘And how d’you plan on getting away?’
‘It’ll be dark, so a thirty-second lead will be enough time . . . even with a smashed-up knee,’ replied Nik. ‘Two or three fences later, they’ll have lost me. I’ll dump any crap I took and disappear into the woods. Five hundred metres and I’m at the U-Bahn.’
‘In the dark?’ Jon’s voice was sceptical. ‘So when d’you want to go over there?’
‘Tomorrow around five a.m. There’ll be no traffic and whoever’s watching the house will be tired by then. By the time Verbeck notices I’m doing something to the door, I’ll be inside.’
‘You know if Blondie pops the driver before he even gets to drive away, the plan is useless. Or if a police car’s nearby, they’ll be on you before you get inside, or the door might actually be made of iron with a timber covering, or—’
‘I know, I know,’ interrupted Nik. ‘Loads could go wrong. But that’s what makes it so thrilling, isn’t it!’ He felt another shot of pain searing up his arm. ‘Are you nearly finished?’ he snapped at Balthasar.
‘Stop moaning,’ replied the pathologist, pulling the needle out of Nik’s arm. ‘If you want to be of sound body tonight, then this has to be sewn up properly.’
‘I’ll deal with the diversion,’ said Jon on the phone. ‘I know a guy who’s fast-footed and a good driver. Hopefully, Blondie will buy it. If not, the break-in can’t even begin.’
Nik took a taxi to Verbeck’s neighbourhood. A couple of painkillers had thankfully sorted out the pain in his knee and arm. It was nineteen minutes to five. The cold night and drizzly snow were perfect for his plan. At five o’clock, Jon’s driver would arrive at the car and start the engine. If Blondie was clever, she would have put a tracker on Nik’s car so she could follow him easily. Whatever the case, someone would appear. A sports bag hung down heavily over Nik’s shoulder. He’d wrapped up the sledgehammer in towels so it didn’t bulge too suspiciously. When he got to the junction, he hid himself behind an SUV. Verbeck’s house was sixty metres away. He’d have enough time to look around and get into a good position before Jon’s diversion kicked off. Nik had expected the street to be quiet and free of people but instead a blue light was flashing through the snow and there was the sporadic rumble of voices.
‘Shit.’ He crept closer and saw a police car and an ambulance parked right in front of Verbeck’s apartment building. He was too far away to see anyone on the street but it would be too risky to move any closer. It wasn’t as if Nik lived in the area, and walking around with a sledgehammer in a sports bag might call for a bit of explanation. Nik threw the bag over a fence into the next garden and went back to the junction. He walked one hundred metres north before turning into a street that ran parallel with Verbeck’s. With a little help from Google Maps, he’d been able to study the area earlier that day and plan his escape route. But before escaping from the police, he would take the route towards Verbeck’s house. He climbed over two fences, crossed a large grassy area with a swimming pool and used an overhanging apple tree to reach the garden behind Verbeck’s flat. The lights were on inside. Two male police officers, a female medic and two men in civvies were standing around Silvio Verbeck, who was lying naked on the living-room floor. His eyes were wide open and a trail of vomit was running over his cheek and on to the floor. He had a plastic tube in his left arm and there was a syringe on the floor beside him. Instead of dealing with the body, the medic was filling out a form, so Nik could safely assume Verbeck had been dead a while. He must have overdosed.
Nik scanned the living room and couldn’t see a phone lying about. At least not from where he was standing. The police had either already packed it up as evidence or Verbeck had dumped it earlier that day at the block of empty flats.
Nik closed his eyes and clenched his fists. Yet again, whoever he was up against was ahead of him and now they were gone.
The smell of the unventilated basement would have been too much for most people. The place was scattered with mouldy Chinese takeaway leftovers and inhabited by a man who washed and changed his clothes once a week, if he was lucky. Everybody else had already turned around and left the bungalow as quickly as possible but Sara was still there. After experiencing the stench of a rotting, maggot-infested corpse, you could pretty much deal with any smell.
She carefully stepped over the mountain of takeaway boxes and old food, trying at least to keep her cashmere jumper clean. Her shoes were already a write-off after stepping into a sticky puddle of coagulated coffee. She could have made the owner pay for it, but it was already going to be hard enough to get him on her side. And she needed him. He was the only person who stood a chance of finding out who Nik was working for.
Damian Inger was schizophrenic, which made it impossible for him to build good relationships. The threat of violence was enough to set off a panic attack that could last for hours, and that was not what she needed right now. Damian also had agoraphobia and never left the house. His computer was his life. His need for food was satisfied with Chinese takeaways, while his sexual needs were fulfilled by a latex doll, which waited for him patiently on a tattered old couch. And it was on this couch where Damian also satisfied his need to sleep.
‘What d’you want?’ he asked sternly, flipping his long hair out of his face. He looked at her angrily before letting his eyes wander down to her knee-length skirt.
‘An amazing hacker who doesn’t give a shit.’
‘Not interested,’ he replied, sitting himself back down at his computer.
‘But you need something to get by, don’t you?’
‘I’ve currently got two hundred nicked credit card numbers on my computer. That should be enough money for a while.’
‘I didn’t mean money,’ she said, shaking a little bag filled with white powder.
‘I’m done with that stuff.’ He waved it away.
‘Really? That’s a shame,’ she said seductively. ‘Purest coke out there. Right from the source. Catapults you into dimensions you couldn’t imagine.’ She pressed her thumb into his unshaven chin and lifted her foot on to the side of his chair. He stared at her calf lustfully, biting his lip. ‘And I was so looking forward to partying with you.’ She licked his ear slowly and grabbed him between the legs. She laughed. Damian was hers.
Waiting had never been Nik’s forte but he knew he would have to put the investigation on hold until Verbeck’s post-mortem had been carried out and the CID had finished their report. He’d tried to sleep, but after two hours had woken up from a nightmare bathed in sweat. In the end he’d decided to get up and search Alois’s records again for clues. But it was useless. He ordered a pizza and worked all evening, but couldn’t find a solid lead anywhere.
He stood up and walked over to the wall where he’d pinned up everything he had on the case. Right at the top were photos of the three women: Viola, Kathrin and Olga. Viola and Olga were still registered as missing, while Kathrin had been murdered. Each photo had a piece of string that led to the words ‘Rehab Clinic’; it was the only common factor between them. Underneath that were photos of Alois, Dr Gawinski, Gunnar and Leopold. Again, each of the men was linked to the clinic. Leopold’s death had proved Gawinski was willing to go to any lengths for his illegal medical trials, but Nik w
as pretty certain that these trials had nothing to do with what had happened to the women. But even so, he would bet any money that their stories were linked to somebody else they had all met at the Meadows Beauty Resort.
Nik hung up Verbeck’s photo beside the clinic and put a strike through it. Verbeck had met the culprit but was just a follower. Nik looked at the photo of the second suspect, Eberhard Lossau. His black hair was combed over in an obnoxious side parting. He was clean-shaven and looked more like a teenager than a man in his late twenties. His smile was fake, as if he’d really had to force the corners of his mouth to go up. He was pushing his shoulders back and held his chin up in the air but even then, he had an awkward air of instability about him.
Nik closed his eyes and tried to paint a picture of Lossau. He didn’t seem to have exceptional political influence and his wealth alone didn’t make him guilty. Obviously, some rich people are ruthless egotists who take glorious pleasure in annihilating the competition, but that didn’t mean they ran around killing everybody. And Nik could rule out organised crime: Tilo might have been an evil piece of work, but he had been too hard to blackmail since he didn’t have any family and money alone wasn’t enough for him. He wanted power and authority, and that meant the one pulling the strings in all this must at least have some political power, as well as extensive financial resources to be able to afford someone like Blondie. And of course, he had to be callous enough to have no qualms about getting rid of anyone who posed a threat.
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