When he went outside, he saw a handful of the team-building participants starting to appear. Ingrid Froon and Hoshiko Kimura did some stretches together, the tall, powerful Dutchwoman towering over the Japanese athlete who was nevertheless her match on the bike. A few metres from them, Jean Poirier chatted with Niklaus Gast and Eric Chapman, all three looking rested and relaxed.
Burke studied Gast. The Swiss was the epitome of composure, not just at that moment but every time Burke saw him. If Gast was guilty of murder or something else, wouldn’t he display at least some kind of anxiety? Moments earlier, Burke had been confident he was right about Gast’s involvement in Blake’s death. Now he wasn’t so sure.
Then Burke noticed Kendall Young coming down the gangplank with Gert Vanderkamp, David Fraser and Dietrich Beck on his heels. They were talking quietly among themselves.
Secrets. It was all about secrets, Burke thought.
When everyone had shown up, Delisle and Hable performed their usual routine. Burke paid little attention, choosing instead to watch the riders for any odd signs of behaviour. He saw nothing.
Just before they were ready to go, the police escorts showed up. Plaschke was among them, dressed in uniform and driving a marked vehicle.
Burke saw Plaschke nod at him.
Then the ride began.
It went quickly at the start. The route was straight and easy to follow, stretching through quiet farmland. The impressive hills that had bordered the Danube for the first 300 kilometres of the trip started to disappear.
As the cityscape of Vienna began to appear to the east, the route became busier with commuting cyclists and pedestrians. When the path turned onto a road frequented by motorists wishing to avoid main arteries, the police on motorcycles slowed the pace to ensure safety.
Once the route crossed a bridge onto the Danube Island, the cars and trucks disappeared, including Plaschke in his police vehicle. The greatest competition for space came from people on roller blades, poling themselves down the path as if training for cross-country skiing.
Burke stayed a little closer to the group than normal, hoping he might catch something interesting being said.
But he heard nothing out of the ordinary.
And he saw nothing unusual.
The group rode expertly. By now, everyone was familiar with the cycling tendencies of their riding mates and anticipated every move. Burke had to admit they had become an impressive peloton.
And, as usual, he saw Niklaus Gast moving with ease and efficiency, totally in control.
Chapter 57
When they finally rode into Vienna with their police escort, Burke couldn’t help but feel overwhelmed. The city of 2.5 million in the metro area was fully alive with traffic, people and noise; it was impossible to appreciate the city’s stunning architecture when one moment of distraction could produce a crash.
Once the group moved onto a narrow bike lane, the two motorcycle cops were forced to ride nearby on the street. Aware of the increased risks, Renata Hable slowed the pace by half. The cyclists behind her kept to a single line. Burke could tell most of them were nervous; they weren’t pedalling as smoothly as before, their shoulders were hunched up, their heads darted about nervously and they all gripped their brakes, ready to stop in an instant. The tranquil countryside of two hours before seemed far away indeed.
The toughest part was crossing the main street and riding to the Prater, the city’s enormous public park.
They made it without any close calls.
“We’re here and we’re finished,” Hable said over her shoulder as she pulled into a parking area shaded by trees. The park’s massive ferris wheel was 100 metres away.
The cyclists stopped around her, got off their machines and started shaking hands and exchanging high fives. A few even hugged. Everyone was smiling. The riding part of the tour was over and they had made it into Vienna.
Except for Bennett Blake, thought Burke. And Wilson Talbot.
Staff from the company which had supplied the rental bicycles were already there and started collecting the machines to load onto an extended rack behind an oversized van. As they worked, Burke glanced at the two motorcycle police who had turned off their machines and stood a few metres away from everyone. Burke saw them exchange a look. Then Karl Plaschke pulled into the lot and got out, walking over to the two officers and nodding.
Something was going to happen, Burke thought.
That’s when three police cars and two police vans showed up with a dozen uniformed officers pouring out and approaching the group of cyclists. Two unmarked cars quickly joined them with Burke seeing Christian Martin climb out of one.
“What’s going on?” Hable asked the officer closest to her.
The flic nodded toward a short, wiry, 35-ish man dressed sharply in a dark blue suit with a grey tie. This was obviously the officer in charge, Burke realized. The man came over and in accent-less English and without using notes, he said: “I am Chief Inspector Alex Eisler of the Austrian federal police, and I want the following to step forward: Kendall Young, Dietrich Beck, Roger Langford, Gert Vanderkamp, David Fraser and” – he took a pause – “Niklaus Gast.”
Burke saw all the named individuals exchange looks except for Gast whose face was frozen in a look of surprise.
No one stepped forward.
“I do not want to repeat myself,” Eisler said in a cold voice.
Finally, Kendall Young took a couple of steps forward. Vanderkamp followed. Moments later, all but Niklaus Gast had removed themselves from the group.
Eisler stepped around them and walked up to Niklaus Gast. “I also require your presence, Herr Gast.”
Burke was surprised that the policeman in plain clothes knew Gast’s identity.
Then Burke noticed Gast looking anxious, the first time he had seen the Swiss look out of control. Then, with a blink, Gast seemed back to his normal self. When he looked at Eisler, it almost seemed he was looking at a servant. But he didn’t disobey the flic’s command, joining the others.
Then Eisler nodded and instantly each of the six cyclists who had been named found a police officer at each elbow.
But Eisler wasn’t done. “I also want Eric Chapman.”
Burke watched as the Canadian calmly walked up to Eisler, almost as if he was expecting to be called. Chapman was one of the inner circle? Or was he a lone wolf like Gast? Either way, thought Burke, the Canadian was in trouble.
“You will go with Inspector Martin and Sergeant Plaschke,” Eisler told Chapman who nodded and started toward the two Krems officers standing together.
Eisler looked at the remaining members of the group, scanning their faces with intensity. When he got to Burke’s face, he stopped for a moment and stared. Burke instantly felt uncomfortable and wondered if his name would be called next.
It wasn’t.
“All of you will be taken to your ship which is already docked,” Eisler said. “Don’t leave the ship until notified that you are permitted to do so. You can expect to be interviewed again by police in the case of Bennett Blake.”
Burke had questions he wanted to ask, but he said nothing. Everyone else kept quiet as well.
The police behind Eisler were now directing the inner circle plus Gast into police vehicles. Burke saw they weren’t being rough, but they weren’t being gentle either. As for Chapman, he got into the back seat of Martin’s car without any force being applied.
“In addition to your being taken to your ship, I am going to demand all of you provide us with your cellphones,” Eisler said. He reached into his suit-jacket pocket and pulled out a document. “If you need to see the warrant for us to do so, I have it here.”
No one asked to see it although Burke noticed several of the remaining cyclists looked annoyed.
An officer walked up to the group, holding a large metal box and motioning for everyone to drop their phones in there. When she got to Kimura, the Japanese resisted for a moment.
“Fraulein, please,” the officer said. Kimura waited a moment and then put her phone with the others. Burke wondered why she had hesitated. Then it was Burke’s turn and he quickly provided his phone.
“Now, please go with my officers to the ship,” Eisler said, motioning to two officers ready to escort them to one of the oversized police vans.
Burke couldn’t help himself and asked if Eisler was now in charge of the Bennett Blake investigation.
“I am, Herr Burke, and I’m hoping I won’t have any problems with anyone here.”
Burke was surprised the flic knew his name. And curious about what Eisler meant about not wanting “any problems with anyone.”
As the group started walking toward the van, Eisler drew Burke aside by gently pulling on his elbow. “Herr Burke, as soon as you get to the ship, you will be my first interview. So I expect you to make yourself immediately available. Understood?”
Burke nodded and started toward the van. As he walked, he heard Eisler tell a senior uniformed officer in rapid-fire German to “process the six individuals as quickly as possible and without any problems.”
Something was wrong. Burke did a quick count. Eisler wanted six people processed, but he had named seven individuals. And then he knew that Eric Chapman, sitting in the back of Martin’s vehicle, was the odd one out.
But why?
As he studied Chapman who sat without expression in the vehicle, he noticed Karl Plaschke get into the passenger’s side, obviously leaving his vehicle for someone to handle. A moment later, Martin got behind the wheel and then they left.
Burke turned and spotted a uniformed officer getting into Plaschke’s marked car, start it and drive off.
A lot was happening. And happening fast.
Chapter 58
The dock by the Reichsbücke, the city’s most famous bridge among more than 1,700 in the metropolitan area, was in chaos.
As the van pulled up, Burke saw a score of police officers hauling all kinds of computer gear off the Sunna and over to a half dozen waiting vehicles. Then he spotted a familiar face ̶ the older man who had accompanied Inspector Martin onto the Sunna just before the side trip to Herzogenburg and had worn a grey suit with trouser cuffs. He was still dressed in the same suit, but this time he was the one in charge, directing officers where to put the equipment. When one young flic carried a laptop computer like it was something to be juggled, the man stopped him and dressed him down in language that made the officer blush and apologize. When the flic continued on, he carried the laptop like it was the world’s rarest jewel.
Several other police were cordoning off the entrance to keep away curious bystanders and to ensure no one on board left. The media had obviously heard what was happening because there were two TV vans, a couple of cars from radio stations and about a dozen journalists shouting questions and trying to get closer to the ship.
“You’ll need to stay close to me and my officers,” said the burly sergeant in command of Burke’s van once the vehicle stopped about 40 metres from the gangplank. He looked from face to face. No one argued.
Once Burke’s group were outside the police van and into the open, a handful of journalists noticed them and rushed over, asking questions of the sergeant and then, when he didn’t answer, of Burke and his fellow cyclists.
Burke noticed no one in his group was eager to talk although Renata Hable told a couple of journalists that “you know as much as we do.” Her comment didn’t put them off because they kept firing questions.
Burke fell back to get a better sense of the scene, but almost immediately felt a push in the back. He turned and saw one of the flics from the van standing behind him and motioning for him to catch up. Burke didn’t protest. The officer was at least 10 centimetres taller and almost twice as wide.
As they went through the crowd and up the gangplank, Burke felt like he was running a gauntlet. There was noise everywhere, pushing and shoving.
When they finally got aboard the Sunna, two officers directed them into the dining room where two other officers, sitting at a table, checked them off a list and then told them to go to their cabins and wait to be contacted.
That didn’t sit well for one of Burke’s group who objected, especially since other passengers were able to wander without such restrictions.
“You’re in a different category,” the officer said.
“What the hell does that mean?”
“It means you are required to remain in your cabin until we contact you.”
The officer glared at the cyclist who matched stares for about two seconds before turning and marching off.
When Burke gave his name, the officer waved a hand to someone. A moment later, Burke was being escorted by another flic down the passageway to the captain’s quarters. When he entered the cabin, Burke didn’t see the captain. Instead, he saw Karl Plaschke, who was standing in a corner of the mid-sized cabin, and Alex Eisler, who was sitting at a table, looking stern but composed.
“Sit, please,” Eisler said, motioning to a chair opposite him. Burke did. “Now, let’s begin.”
Chapter 59
Burke recounted just about everything he had done during the last two days, including his conversation with Plaschke at the beer garden in Tulln. He didn’t know if that would create trouble for the Krems flic, but that wasn’t his problem.
“Now, once more, tell me why you think Niklaus Gast is behind Bennett Blake’s murder,” Eisler said.
As he did, Burke no longer had doubts about Gast’s involvement in Blake’s death. He had seen the man’s face when he had been singled out at the parking lot. For a handful of seconds, the Swiss had looked surprised, then frightened and finally guilty before composing himself. In Burke’s mind, he had never expected to be caught.
When Burke was done, Eisler asked him for his theory about the inner circle. Twenty minutes later, Burke felt he had nothing more to offer. He glanced at Plaschke who remained statue-like.
“I understand a few others on board the Sunna have noticed this inner circle,” Eisler said.
“Yes.”
“But you’re not entirely confident about the part that Gast plays in this small group.”
“I’m not.”
“Last night in Tulln, did you notice Niklas Gast leave during the intermission of the cabaret?”
“I did.”
“Do you know why he left?”
“No.”
“Did you think about following him?”
“I did, but decided against it. It wasn’t my business what he did back in his cabin if that’s where he went. Besides that, I felt if I followed him, he might see me and begin to wonder what I was up to.”
Eisler smiled. “Not your business? Herr Burke, that doesn’t seem to have stopped you before.”
Burke shrugged. And then he decided it was his turn to ask questions. “The computers you’ve taken from the ship belong to the inner-circle participants, don’t they?’
“They do.”
“You’re looking for child-porn on their machines, right? Not just regular porn which probably half the population checks out, but hardcore kiddie stuff, right?”
“Maybe.”
“When did you start suspecting they were into child pornography?”
Eisler waved a hand and said nothing.
“It wasn’t due to anything I said – or was it?” Burke said, glancing at Plaschke.
“It might be but then again, maybe you’re just flattering yourself,” Eisler replied.
Burke searched through his memory for something that was bothering him ̶ and then he had it. He turned back to Plaschke. “That evening when you were talking to Captain Keller, you were organizing something. I recall a crew member getting some orders from you and hurrying off. And the next morning, there was an extra police vehicle on the dock, but no uniformed officers around.”
Neither Eisler nor Plaschke said anything.
Burke had a notion and
pointed a finger at the Krems officer. “Why didn’t you follow Niklaus Gast when he left early from the concert in Tulln?”
“Maybe he was just going to his cabin to sleep,” Plaschke said. “It wasn’t crucial for me to drop everything and follow him.”
There was an underlying message there, Burke thought. There was no doubt Plaschke had an interest in Gast’s actions and yet he hadn’t been worried about what the Swiss would be up to after leaving the concert.
Burke looked at the two men facing him. They were almost willing him to come to some kind of conclusion.
And then, recalling the flics’ conversation with the Sunna’s captain, he had it.
“When Gast and everyone else was off the ship for the concert, you had some police technicians quietly come on board and install a camera in his cabin to monitor his actions in private. And I bet you did the same with the others in the inner circle. They all had cameras hidden someplace in their cabins. And the one who supervised it was that man I saw with Inspector Martin the other day and who’s managing the removal of all that computer gear from the Sunna right now.”
The two flics said nothing.
“You didn’t need to follow Gast back to the Sunna in because you knew you’d be able to see what he was doing once he was on board the ship. And the same applies with those in the inner circle.”
“That’s quite a theory,” Eisler said.
“Your people just needed to put cameras into a few cabins and that wouldn’t have taken long. As for the cameras, they had to be so small they wouldn’t be noticed. They also had to be good because you didn’t want to mess up your best chance to catch anyone in the act.”
Eisler and Plaschke remained silent.
“Maybe, in some of the cabins, you installed more than one camera to ensure you got all the angles. That way, wherever someone was sitting when he went online, you could spy on the screen and see what he was doing.” Burke paused, looking from one man to the other. “I expect you had legal permission to install those cameras just as you had permission to confiscate the computers.”
Deception On the Danube Page 20