Deep Pain

by Marcus Hünnebeck

  Panting, she let go. Only now did she realize the door stood open behind her. She threw it shut, then squatted at Schütze’s side and felt for a pulse.

  33

  Till and Dorfer arrived on the third floor, where a young woman waited for them. The short-haired blonde wore long, dark-blue sports pants and a white sweater.

  “Are you really the police?” she asked.

  Dorfer showed his ID. “Where is Mr. Schütze?”

  “What do you want from him? Has he done something wrong?”

  “We fear his life is in danger. May we come in?”

  “In mortal danger? I told you, he’s down in the basement.”

  “Which room in the basement? What’s he doing there?”

  “Training. He said he built himself a small workout room there. Weight bench and all.”

  “Which room in the cellar is it?” Dorfer asked.

  She shrugged. “Stefan and I have only been together a couple weeks. I spent the first night here yesterday. He asked me to come see his little kingdom after he’s done working out. I was going to do that later.”

  Dorfer turned away. “Let’s go!”

  They headed to the stairs. When they reached the bottom, they came across two cellar doors leading away from the hallway.

  “Me on the left, you on the right.”

  Till opened the door. In front of him lay a dark corridor lined with five more doors. He shook the first one. Locked. Same result with number two. But the third one swung inwards.

  “Dorfer!” cried Till. “I found him!” He went to Schütze’s side and felt for a pulse. Nothing. Immediately he began administering chest compressions.

  “Shit!” Dorfer said. “Is he still alive?”

  “No.”

  “Maybe we just missed her. I’ll run to the road. Keep going!”

  Dorfer disappeared again while Till continued to pump. The chief inspector’s fears had come true. And they hadn’t been able to prevent the murder.

  Dorfer returned. “No sign of her. I’ll inform Dellhorst. He’ll have to take care of the rest.”

  “This is pointless,” said Till, out of breath. “He’s dead.”

  “Then stop.” Dorfer pulled out his cell phone. After a few seconds he reached his superior. Dellhorst promised to send a large contingent of police officers and then ended the call.

  “Are you protecting the other potential victims now?” Till asked.

  To his amazement, Dorfer shook his head. “I know Dellhorst. He’s concentrating on the investigation. On capturing Spannberg by means of a dragnet. I’m sure he’s ordering roadblocks and is not focusing his attention on preventive measures. At least another hour before the machinery gets going.”

  “Then we have to warn the others. Immediately.”

  “No, I’ve got to stay here. Receive the colleagues. At least now Dellhorst takes me seriously.”

  “What good does it do the others?”

  “Nothing. But I can’t leave.” Dorfer sniffed. Then he pulled out the piece of paper with the addresses and gave Till his car key.

  “Check out the others. Tell them to be careful.”

  “They won’t believe me. I’m not a cop.”

  “Do it anyway. You’re very convincing. Like a good cop. I’ll try to send officers after you as soon as possible. Now go!”

  34

  Ulla Dickrich found Taylor sitting in his room, staring down at the floor. Was he immersed in some imaginary world? Or was he moping?

  “Are you okay, sweetheart?” she asked.

  He raised his gaze. “I miss Mom,” he whispered softly.

  His words almost broke her heart. Since sitting on the floor with him would hurt her hip too much, she pulled up a chair. “I miss her too. But I’m sure she’ll get better soon, and you can see her. Or she can move in here. There’s plenty of room.”

  “Hopefully.” All of a sudden, Taylor sobbed. Tears ran down his cheeks.

  “Taylor, please. Don’t cry. Everything’s going to be fine, I promise.”

  The boy climbed up into her lap. Ulla winced at the pain, but then pressed her grandson against her chest. Silently she stroked his head. While Taylor cried, she feverishly thought of ways to cheer him up. She shifted her weight slightly to relieve her hip joint.

  Outside it would soon be dark. A walk to the playground was out of the question. They needed a distraction where they were not dependent on weather or daylight. A few weeks ago on a Sunday they had gone to the movies. Taylor had enjoyed it immensely. He’d only been to the theater four times in his life.

  “Shall we check the internet to see if there’s a nice movie playing in the theater right now?” she asked.

  He looked up at her with big eyes. “Really? Yes, please!”

  “Then let’s go to the computer.”

  Taylor jumped up. Ulla breathed a sigh of relief and hobbled after the boy into the living room. He started the PC. She sat down in the chair and called up the homepage of the nearest cinema.

  “Sonic!” cried Taylor.

  “What?” Ulla asked.

  Taylor pointed to a blue figure at the edge of the screen. “That’s Sonic.”

  “Should I know him?”

  “Grandma!” Taylor sighed. “He’s one of my favorite video game characters. Is there a movie about Sonic?”

  She skimmed through the movie listings. “Yes, it looks like it’s a new release. What’s it about?” She found the description and read it aloud. “ ’In the film adaptation of the popular video game, Sonic the Hedgehog must put a stop to the villain Doctor Robotnik.’ ”

  “That sounds awesome!” Taylor said. “Can we go?”

  Ulla checked the showtimes. The next performance began in less than an hour. “If we hurry, we can make it.”

  “Then we’ll hurry. I’ll run to the toilet. Yeah. I’m Sonic.” Taylor revved up, then dashed off.

  Smiling, Ulla looked after him. “Thank you, you blue racing angel,” she whispered. “I don’t know how else I could have made Taylor laugh so quickly.”

  She turned off the computer. Shortly afterward her grandson stepped out of the bathroom.

  “Did you wash your hands, too?”

  “Shit!”

  ***

  Five minutes later they left the apartment. In the hallway they met their neighbor Jutta.

  “You’re going out?” Jutta asked in surprise.

  “To the movies,” Taylor explained, beaming.

  “Oh, how nice. Which theater?”

  “The one at Dammtor,” Ulla said.

  “Which film? Is it something I might enjoy?”

  “Sonic the Hedgehog,” Taylor said. “It’s a lightning-fast blue hedgehog fighting evil.”

  “That sounds pretty exciting. Pity. If it were Heidi or something, I’d go with you. Well, have fun.”

  Taylor turned to his grandmother. “Who’s Heidi?”

  35

  “Oh, no,” Spannberg said.

  She had been driving slowly, in search of a parking space, when she saw her next target leaving the house with his grandmother. The boy was wearing a cap and gloves.

  Spannberg stopped at a driveway and flicked on her blinker. By the front door of the building, Ulla Dickrich unlocked a vehicle. She helped her grandson inside and buckled him in.

  “Why today? Why now?”

  Taylor Fischer’s father was called Constantine. A few months before his son was born, Constantine had raped and killed a woman. An unbearable pressure had built up in him because his wife had to rest a lot during pregnancy and this pent-up pressure had exploded sexually—at least that was how he defended his crime in therapy sessions. The same pressure had probably been released during the prison riot. After Spannberg had finished off Stefan Schütze, Fischer’s son was next in line. After that, she would take on Karsten Hansen’s father, since Hansen had not given birth to children.

  Unfortunately, a murder in pub
lic was much more difficult to carry out compared to gaining access to an apartment under false pretenses.

  Spannberg made a decision. Even if it meant losing time, she would follow Taylor and his grandmother. She watched as their car lined up in traffic. Spannberg let two more cars pull up behind them, and then she pulled into traffic too. Taylor was now the most important person on her list. She couldn’t let him get away.

  ***

  A quarter of an hour later, they arrived at the Alsterterrasse parking lot. Spannberg would wait until the two of them got out. She would approach them and shoot the boy. If the grandmother were to shield her grandchild, Spannberg would shoot her too. The parking lot was unguarded. Perfect.

  Taylor’s grandmother skillfully steered the vehicle into a narrow space. She then turned around in her seat and said something to her grandson. She got out and hurried to the nearest parking machine. Taylor remained in the car.

  This was Spannberg’s chance. She could carry out the deed without collateral damage. She parked, pulled the handbrake, and left the engine running. Quickly she slipped out of the car and made her way toward Taylor.

  Someone honked, startling Spannberg. She had been too focused and had almost run in front of a station wagon. The driver wiped imaginary sweat off his forehead.

  Spannberg took two steps back to let the driver past, watching helplessly while Taylor’s grandmother returned to her car. The old woman put the parking ticket behind the windshield and helped her grandson get out.

  The opportunity had passed. And now the people in the station wagon were parking and getting out. Spannberg changed her plan. She guessed where Taylor and his grandmother were going. Maybe she could do the deed there. She walked to her car, turned off the engine, locked up, and followed her target. The boy babbled incessantly at his grandmother while holding her hand.

  36

  The front door stood open. Till rang the bell, then knocked on the door.

  “Mrs. Dickrich?” he shouted.

  Behind him, a door opened.

  “Young man, what’s all this noise?” an older woman asked.

  Till turned to her. “It is urgent that I speak with Mrs. Dickrich and especially with Taylor Fischer.”

  “You just missed them.”

  “How close?”

  “By a good ten minutes. Any message for Ulla?”

  “Do you know where they went?”

  The neighbor frowned. “Why do you ask? Who are you, anyway?”

  Should he claim to be a policeman, as Dorfer had advised? In a split second Till made a different decision. “Excuse me,” he said with a smile. “Very rude of me. I am Till Buchinger. Mrs. Dickrich hired me.”

  “For what?”

  Till reached into the inside pocket of his jacket and pulled out a slightly worn business card, which he pressed into the woman’s hand. “I’m a narc.”

  The neighbor took a look at the card. “From the police?”

  “No. But I work closely with the police. I am more like a private detective. It’s about Taylor’s father. Mrs. Dickrich pays me for information I get from prison.”

  “As I said, you just missed them. They’re going to the cinema at Dammtor.”

  “Do you happen to know what movie?”

  “Something with… Sony, I think? I don’t know. Something about a blue hedgehog.”

  “Thank you! That helps me.”

  Instead of running downstairs, Till called the elevator. While he waited, he pulled up the cinema homepage on his phone. He quickly found the film. It started in less than an hour.

  In the elevator, Till pressed the first floor button and checked his phone’s signal. Sufficient, even in the elevator. He called Dorfer and filled him in.

  “Theater?” Dorfer said. “Shit! Dellhorst has changed his mind again. He’s organizing personnel right now to protect all targets. I’ll have someone on site with you in ten minutes. But going to the movies is going to complicate things.”

  “You could have them paged and meet them at the movie theater.”

  “I’ll suggest it to Dellhorst. I don’t know if he’ll go for it. Could you go there as an advance guard? I’d feel better if you did. You know the movie?”

  Till mentioned the name and start time.

  “I’m sure that theater is packed with kids. The way I figure Dellhorst, my boss doesn’t want to cause a panic.”

  The elevator door opened. Till stepped outside. “I’ll get going. Let me know what you set up with Dellhorst.”

  Till ended the call. He had to hurry. Like a blue hedgehog scurrying through rush-hour traffic. Unlike Dickrich’s neighbor, he knew exactly who Sonic was.

  37

  Spannberg kept an eye on Taylor and his grandmother. As expected, they walked from the parking lot to the nearby movie theater. On the way there, Spannberg saw no opportunity to kill the boy. Too many people around.

  She lined up behind the two of them at the box office to find out which film they planned to see.

  As inconspicuously as possible, she observed her surroundings. The checkout area was video-monitored. If she committed the crime here, the cops would see it eventually. But by then she would already be on her way to her next victim.

  “Hello,” Taylor’s grandmother said to the young cashier. “We’d like two tickets for Sonic.”

  “With pleasure. The film is showing in cinema three. Where do you want to sit? Further forward, in the middle, or in the back? There’s plenty of room.”

  “In the middle,” replied the grandmother.

  “Then you best take row H.” She turned to the boy. “How old are you?”

  “Ten,” Taylor said.

  “Super! Then we have seats H12 and H13. Seventeen euros and ten cents please.”

  The grandmother handed the cashier a twenty-euro bill and accepted the tickets and change. She thanked the cashier and turned away from the checkout area, ignoring the woman standing behind her in the queue.

  The cashier wished them a good time and then greeted Spannberg with a warm smile.

  “I’ll also take two tickets for Sonic,” Spannberg said. “My son is thirteen.”

  “Where do you want to sit?” the cashier said. She didn’t even seem interested in the boy who wasn’t there.

  “Are the center seats in row G still available?” Spannberg asked.

  “I can offer you G12 and G13. Or G14 and 15.”

  “Perfect. I’ll take 12 and 13. How much is it?”

  “Eighteen sixty.”

  Spannberg also paid twenty euros and received her tickets and change. She thanked the cashier and strolled to the ticket checker. Inconspicuously, she let the kid’s ticket disappear into her trouser pocket. She wanted to sit directly behind Taylor. Since she didn’t know which seat the boy would take, she needed both seats directly behind him.

  In her jacket pocket was a pistol with a silencer attachment. She would press the gun into the back of the boy’s head and pull the trigger twice at a particularly loud part of the film. If she was lucky, the grandmother would not immediately notice.

  Spannberg passed the ticket checker. The employee there didn’t seem suspicious that an adult would be attending a children’s movie alone. He told her to have fun. Meanwhile, Taylor and his grandmother arrived at the concession stand. Spannberg watched the two of them. The boy was given an ice cream and they also bought two drinks and a small bag of popcorn. Treats in hand, they strolled to the third movie theater. Spannberg waited a few minutes. She had secured the two seats behind her target. Nobody could take them away from her. So she took the opportunity to check out the few people trickling in. No one seemed familiar to her. No one seemed interested.

  Finally, Spannberg entered the theater, cloaked in subdued lighting. She took the seat directly behind Taylor, who was licking his ice cream. His grandmother paid no attention to the person sitting behind them.

  Spannberg left her jacket on, but opened the zipper.
She let herself sink deeply into the seat. Again and again she glanced at the door to inspect new arrivals. The movie was poorly attended. When the lights went out, at most two dozen people were sitting in the theater. Almost exclusively mothers or fathers with their children.

  38

  Till bought a ticket in the back row and chose the outermost seat. He hoped for a quick callback from Dorfer. The SOKO hopefully dispatched at least two task forces to bring the targets home safely. He did not want to take on this task himself.

  He wondered if the boy and his grandmother were already sitting in the movie theater. He had to assume they were. After all, they had about a quarter-of-an-hour head start. He decided to keep a close eye on the entrance of the theater anyway. Unfortunately he had no clue what Taylor or the woman looked like. The grandmother was probably around sixty, the grandchild around ten or so. So he could exclude anyone who didn’t fit that description.

  Till took up a position a good twenty steps from the entrance. When the pre-program began, he checked his phone. Why had Dorfer not reported back? Till called him, but got his voicemail.

  “It’s me. Buchinger,” he said, leaving a message. “I bought a ticket for the film. It’s playing in cinema three. If you send the police, they’ll find me sitting in the back row, on the far right. So far I haven’t found anyone who could be Mrs. Dickrich and her grandson. They’re probably already in their seats, but I’ll wait outside for a few more minutes. If you can, please call me back. I need to know what your plans are.”

  He ended the conversation, set his phone to vibrate, and watched a father and son hurrying into the movie theater.

  Five minutes later, Dorfer still had not called back. Did Schütze’s murder demand his full attention, or had something else come up? From his position, Till noticed that the lights in the hall first brightened, dimmed, and finally switched off. The automatic doors closed.