Nik opened his eyes and looked at Eberhard Lossau’s photo. It was definitely possible he was ruthless and rich. And he looked unprincipled enough to be able to kill people. But neither Tilo nor Cüpper would have trusted him. Not this little boy. Lossau would barely be able to intimidate an angst-ridden junkie like Verbeck.
Nik was ripped from his thoughts when his phone rang.
‘Something’s happening,’ said Jon.
‘With the report or the post-mortem?’
‘Both,’ Jon replied. ‘The post-mortem finished an hour ago. I sent on the details to Balthasar. And since then the report has been uploaded on to the server.’
‘Good news first, please,’ said Balthasar, who was apparently also on the line.
‘The autopsy was carried out diligently. Everything points to a suspected case of poisoning, with poison being found in venous blood, stomach contents, organ samples and hair samples. So the given cause of death – Heroin Overdose – is plausible. All the signs are there. Silvio Verbeck fell unconscious and choked to death on his own vomit. What’s interesting though is how much heroin was in his system. It was fatally high. Five milligrams of that stuff would be dangerous for someone who isn’t used it but Verbeck had ten times that much in his system. That would’ve finished off the most ardent of junkies.’
‘Suicide?’
‘Not impossible,’ answered Balthasar. ‘But Verbeck was a coke addict. Why did he suddenly go and inject heroin?’
‘What does the CID report say?’
‘Three bags of heroin were found alongside drug-related paraphernalia. High-grade stuff. Barely cut.’
‘So there are two possibilities. Suicide or murder.’
‘The way you described it, Verbeck was definitely in a mess after your visit,’ said Balthasar. ‘But it’s hard to believe he’d OD because of it.’
‘Yeah, but the question is, why was he found with three bags of heroin on him?’ added Nik. ‘As you said, Jon, five milligrams alone would have been more than enough. That suggests it wasn’t suicide.’
‘OK, so let’s assume it was murder then,’ said Jon.
‘Did the report mention any evidence suggesting the involvement of other people?’ asked Nik.
‘None of the neighbours saw anything. There was no mention whatsoever of a blonde woman. And no signs of forced entry.’
‘So Verbeck let his murderer in willingly.’ Nik stood up and walked around the flat contemplatively. ‘And he shot up willingly as well. No signs of a fight?’
‘Nothing in the report.’
‘I might have an idea,’ said Balthasar hesitantly. ‘Verbeck had an injury on the side of his head. Apparently from hitting it on the sofa when he fell . . . which is possible. He could have done it when he fell unconscious. But . . .’
‘. . . someone could have smacked his head on something to begin with.’
‘It wasn’t a serious injury but enough to black out or get disoriented.’
‘And give someone enough time to inject him with heroin,’ added Jon.
‘As soon as that stuff was in his system he couldn’t do a thing,’ Balthasar continued. ‘And that gave the murderer enough time to prepare the crime scene and clean up any evidence.’
‘How did anyone find out about Verbeck?’
‘Coincidence,’ said Jon. ‘The neighbour’s dog had to go out around four. The owner couldn’t be bothered going for a walk, so he just let him out in the garden. He saw the light was on in Verbeck’s place and when he moved closer he saw him lying on the floor. He called an ambulance immediately but the only thing left for the medic to do was pronounce him dead.’
‘And when did he die?’
‘By the time the medic arrived, rigor mortis had set in on the eyelids and masseters. Time of death was declared midnight.’
Nik sighed. ‘Another witness gone.’
‘I’m afraid there’s no good news about the phone either. None of your CID colleagues picked it up and I didn’t see it in any photos.’
‘Email me everything anyway,’ said Nik. ‘It’s unlikely, but I might still think of something.’
‘Will do.’
‘And now there’s just Eberhard Lossau to deal with. Hopefully, he’ll tell us something before he also gets popped with no explanation.’
‘Lossau got back from his business trip this morning. I’ll hack his computer tonight and have a look around. By tomorrow morning I’ll have a good idea of who he is. Then we can get going on him.’
The CID and forensics reports turned out to be solid and convincing, and any cover-up on that side seemed unlikely. Which didn’t exactly help Nik. He still didn’t know who Blondie was or who she worked for. At around two in the morning Nik went for a long walk. Munich was covered with a silky, unblemished blanket of snow. But the walk only distracted him a little. He went home and was making his second coffee of the morning when his phone rang.
‘What a night,’ said Jon, yawning. ‘Lossau’s business computer was more secure than the CID’s.’
‘You hacked the CID?’
‘Maybe best you don’t know all the details,’ replied Jon.
‘Was it at least worth the hard work?’
‘I’m still downloading stuff but as yet I haven’t managed to put together a good profile of Lossau.’ Jon cleared his throat. ‘He comes from a dynasty of bankers who go all the way back to the Royal Bank of Nuremberg. After the Second World War, the three brothers invested their capital in various companies with varying degrees of success, and that brought about a handsome fortune for the family. Eberhard Lossau is the only son of Willibald and Agathe Lossau. After finishing school and his undergraduate degree in Munich, he studied in various places abroad . . . from Boston to Fontainebleau . . . where he sometimes did well, sometimes not so well. Overall, his studies were a chaotic time, but when he joined the family’s own holding company in 2012 things began to quieten down. Today he’s responsible for foreign business and is almost always on a plane. Officially at least.’
‘And unofficially?’
‘According to his file, he’s a regular at the clinic. Coke and alcohol. From the family’s point of view, it’s easier to tell people he spends long periods of time on business trips. Probably the reason he has the international position in the first place.’
‘Any connection to our women?’
‘He could have met Viola at Munich Uni or known of Kathrin’s start-up through work. And it’s possible he went to Olga for sex. But as usual, our only link is the clinic.’
‘Any cross references? To Tilo, Dr Cüpper or Blondie?’
‘Nothing,’ said Jon. ‘Aside from the CCTV of Verbeck and Lossau together at The Palace, there’s no connection to anyone else.’
‘I’ll have to talk to him face-to-face.’
‘Compared with Verbeck, Lossau’s wealth is off the scale. His company personnel file says he’s got a chauffeur who used to work in security. And they have some of the best lawyers out there, so the CID spiel won’t work.’
‘I’ll sound out the situation first and then think of something.’
‘I’ve sent the holding company address to your flat. Along with directions to his family home outside Munich.’
‘Did you find anything else about him?’
‘Very little—’ Suddenly, Jon’s voice was interrupted by a shrill beep.
‘What was that?’ asked Nik.
‘What the hell?’ said Jon, confused.
Nik heard Jon hitting the computer keys frantically. ‘What is it?’ Nik asked.
‘They’ve put a tracker on my computer.’
‘A what?’
‘A program to get my location.’ An alarm went off. It pierced the air like a hammer hitting a plank of steel. ‘They’ve found me!’ Jon cried. ‘They’re at my door!’
‘Who?’
‘The blonde woman and her friends.’
‘Go, for Christ’s sake!’
‘I know, but I have to start the self-destruc
t first or they’ll find you.’ There was the smashing of a window pane.
‘Just get out!’
‘Just a second . . .’ Something hissed loudly like a firework before a loud boom sounded over the phone. Nik could hear the room shaking.
‘Jon?’
Something crashed to the floor. Men were shouting.
‘Good luck, Nik,’ Jon said softly, like a man who’d given in to the inevitable. ‘Don’t give up.’ There was a shot and the line went dead.
Chapter 15
Nik walked back and forth around the flat, staring at his phone and waiting for a call that would relieve his anxiety. He’d tried to call Jon back four times, but the phone was dead. He’d also got hold of Balthasar at work, but he didn’t know Jon’s emergency hiding spot. Nik didn’t have access to the CID server, so he turned on the local TV channels, listened to the radio and kept an eye on the news online. But there was nothing. Just a case of bodily harm in Obersendling and a traffic collision in Milbertshofen. Nik’s phone rang, snapping him out of his obsessive search. It was Balthasar.
‘Anything?’ Nik asked hopefully.
‘No,’ he replied. ‘I was counting on you and your skill at finding clues.’
‘I don’t have access to the CID server anymore. Tilo’s account has been frozen and only Jon had the other access info. So I can’t see if there’s been a shooting. Blondie’s probably beating every last detail out of Jon before she dumps him in the Isar.’
‘So what are you going to do now?’
‘What d’you mean?’
‘You’re free,’ said Balthasar. ‘Whatever it was Jon was blackmailing you with doesn’t matter now.’
Balthasar was right. Nik could go back to his flat, wait for his suspension to end and start working his normal hours at the CID again. The Breitling watch Jon had given him would get him through a couple of months until then.
‘Jon sent me the address of another suspect not long before he disappeared.’
‘So you’re not giving up?’
‘It’s been a long time since this was just about Jon’s search for Viola. And anyway, it was the last thing Leo asked for.’
‘Do you need help with it?’
‘All the help I can get.’
‘Well, where do we begin?’
‘With Eberhard Lossau. And if it turns out he’s responsible for those women going missing, then I’ll deal with him my way.’
Three days had passed and Lossau still hadn’t shown any sign of strange behaviour. His chauffeur would wait outside his house for him every morning at half past eight. Today he was wearing a navy suit, a white shirt and a red tie. He had a camel hair coat over his suit and was carrying a briefcase. Lossau was fatter than in the photos Nik had seen. He had less hair and his skin was an unhealthy shade of red. He held his head slightly downwards, resting his double chin on his chest. His eyelids were swollen like a boxer’s after a fight and his hair was sloppily combed over to the side. The Mercedes made its way into the morning traffic while Lossau sat in the back reading the paper. His driver went via Oberföhring, took a right at the hospital, past the Isar and over the Maximilians Bridge to a modern office block. It took them half an hour. The driver opened his door and Lossau went into the building and took the lift up to the company offices on the second floor.
Nik parked the hire car in a spot in front of the building and waited. Like every other morning, he scanned the local news, but yet again there was nothing about what had happened to Jon. His mobile was still dead and Balthasar hadn’t heard from him either. Nik was raring to follow Lossau into the building and beat everything out of him, but the satisfaction from that wouldn’t last long. He had nothing he could use against Lossau: the files from the clinic had been sourced just as illegally as the photos from The Palace; there was no obvious connection between Lossau and Blondie or the other women; and he didn’t know Silvio Verbeck well enough to claim any link there. But the fact that he was the only remaining person to have been at The Palace and the clinic, meant that he was Nik’s last hope of finding out what had happened to those women. And if Lossau knew Verbeck, and Verbeck knew Blondie, that was enough to convince Nik that Lossau was involved somehow. He might even be pulling the strings, and if that was the case, a CID agent on suspension was hardly going to shake him, even with the threat of violence.
If Nik wanted to make any progress, he’d have to monitor Lossau and hope he led him to a new location or to Blondie. Nik closed his eyes and sighed. He felt helpless, and having to sit in the small hire car, watching the office block and hoping for something to happen was frustrating.
At ten o’clock the car door opened and Balthasar got in. He was wearing a thick winter jacket and a woolly hat. He handed Nik a takeaway coffee and a chocolate doughnut.
‘Still nothing,’ said Balthasar.
‘Someone I know at forensics described all the bodies that have come in but none of them fitted Jon’s description.’ Nik held up his phone. ‘I’m also keeping an eye on the police ticker. But there’s been nothing there either.’ He hit the steering wheel with both hands.
‘And what about here? You seen anything?’
‘It’s been three days and I’m beginning to ask myself if Jon got the right man,’ Nik said. ‘Lossau leads a boring businessman’s life. There’s not been anything suspicious. No police, no blonde woman and no one else who seemed in the slightest bit suspect.’ He took a sip of coffee. ‘I’m gonna get closer at lunch time and if nothing interesting happens by the end of the day, I’ll go and visit him at his house.’
Nik saw Balthasar’s concern. A break-in was risky and irresponsible, but the pathologist was equally anxious and frustrated, so he stayed quiet. He’d put extra make-up on his eyes in an attempt to hide his lack of sleep. There wasn’t a trace of his usual cheerfulness; instead he was serious and pensive. He laid his hand on Nik’s shoulder. ‘Be careful.’ Then he got out of the car.
Nik waited until 11.30 a.m., put on a wig and some glasses and left the car. He took his suit jacket from the back seat and pulled his tie up to his neck to make the perfect knot. Lossau’s favourite restaurant was about a hundred metres from the office block. He always went there for lunch and took a window seat that looked out on to the street. Nik had watched him eat there alone for the last few days. He sat down at a table with a view of Lossau’s back and dug into a roasted pork knuckle with dumplings. Lossau had good table manners but he threw his food down like it was the only meal he’d see that day and drank more wine than was appropriate for lunch time. He didn’t receive any visits from dubious business partners or hold any whispering telephone conversations. While an attractive waitress cleared away dishes from the next table, he made sure he got a good look at her cleavage. You could claim he was guilty of disrespecting the service staff after ignoring the restaurant manager’s ‘Hello’, leaving a tiny tip and going without saying goodbye. But none of that made him a psychotic murderer.
After Lossau was back in his office, Nik went to a public toilet, where he took off his disguise and put on some casual clothes. He then made his way back to the car and observed the building until it got dark. Lossau had left work around 8 p.m. every day that week and had been driven home by his chauffeur. There had been a light on in his penthouse until midnight and then he’d gone to bed. Nik had watched the entrance the whole time but never saw Lossau creeping out or anyone going in.
Today, however, Lossau left the office block half an hour earlier than normal. His driver was, as usual, waiting for him in a large Mercedes, suggesting this had been planned in advance. Nik put his coffee cup in the holder, started the engine and merged in behind the car. As usual, they went back over the Maximilians Bridge and past parliament, but today, instead of going left towards Oberföhring, the Merc stayed on Einsteinstraße before turning south on to the A8 towards Salzburg. Nik gripped the steering wheel with his left hand and picked up his notepad from the passenger seat. Jon had given him the address of the family estate in In
ntal. Maybe that’s where Lossau was heading. The snow and heavy traffic made it difficult to keep on him, but then, as expected, the car changed from the A8 on to the A93 after the sign for Inntal. When the driver took the exit towards Brannenburg, Nik followed him and then stopped at the side of the road. There weren’t many cars on the roads at that time of day and the estate was too remote for another car to also be making the trip. It would have been too obvious to keep following him. Nik waited twenty minutes before putting the address into the satnav and driving off. Despite the ceaseless snowfall, the large drive down to the house was clear. The Lossau’s family estate sat regally on top of a hill with views of the nearby villages and the Inntal Valley, and the grounds were surrounded by a wall. Although there was snowy woodland all around the building, it would have been easy for anyone inside to spot an approaching car some distance away. He would have to leave the car on a small woodland track and walk the rest of the way.
The snow was getting heavier. Cursing at the stinging snowflakes, Nik lowered his head and went up the drive. He could barely see two metres ahead but at least that would make it hard for any cameras to get a clear shot of him. At the end of the drive there was a large gate. The metal bars were far enough apart to get a look at the estate but too close together for anyone to squeeze between them. The vegetation around the entrance was tidy, but then got thicker the deeper into the wood Nik went. He followed the wall and it became clear from its height and condition that it was more for decoration than for deterring burglars. At one point, some stones had fallen out so Nik placed his foot inside the gap and heaved himself on top. It was very slippery, but he managed to steady himself and land safely on the other side in a small oak forest. Now protected by the trees, he took a good look at the villa. The two-storey building had at least four hundred square metres of room space, spread over one large main house and two side wings. The windows and doors were new and strengthened to the highest standards but were perfect replicas of the original manor house windows. Lossau’s Mercedes was parked at the door but there was no sign of the chauffeur. The drive leading from the gate to the house had been laid with cobbled stones and lined with radiant yellow lamps. The rest of the drive was unlit, meaning Nik could creep over to the side wing at the edge of the wood without being seen. Houses like this always had staff, so with a bit of luck, there would be a separate entrance at the back which would be poorly protected.
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