Time Heals No Wounds (A Baltic Sea Crime Novel)

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Time Heals No Wounds (A Baltic Sea Crime Novel) Page 24

by Hendrik Falkenberg


  As Hannes walked through the ballroom to the exit, he saw many famous faces. In one corner he saw the governor, who was excitedly chatting with Christian Ternheim. He wondered if Ben was there mingling and grinned at the thought.

  “We’ve come together here tonight because we’re united in the same goal: the fight against childhood leukemia!”

  Christian Ternheim walked away from the podium. A short film played on the screen behind him, showing the emergence, spread, and symptoms of the disease. When the film was through, there was a collective stunned silence in the hall. Some guests wiped their eyes. Mr. Ternheim stepped back up to the podium.

  “As you know, Lagussa specializes in psychiatric drugs, so we’re unable to contribute actively to the fight against this terrible disease. But as a modern company with deep roots in the community, we believe it’s our duty to get involved.”

  Applause broke out, while a camera moved closer to Mr. Ternheim.

  “Many of you have supported us in this commitment for years. I therefore wish to extend a special thanks to you. Without you, none of our successes would have been possible!”

  There was more applause.

  “Thank you . . . I would also like to thank another person who is sadly not with us tonight. A woman whose commitment to the fight against childhood leukemia was the impetus for this evening’s event. My sister unfortunately passed away a few days ago in a tragic accident. She would have been proud of this evening and seen it as encouragement for her tireless efforts. Now it’s up to us to continue her legacy. I . . .” He paused for a moment. “I ask that you rise from your seats and quietly commemorate my sister for a moment.”

  Chairs were noisily pushed back and flashing cameras recorded the silent crowd.

  “Thank you,” Ternheim said into the microphone. “But we should also not forget the heroes who are the stars of this evening: the countless children suffering from leukemia all over the world. We have already achieved a great deal! Last year, for example, we opened a treatment center in South Africa and . . .”

  Fritz’s thoughts began to wander, and he glanced around the room. While the majority of the audience listened attentively, a famous actress whispered with a soccer player, a television presenter yawned, two business leaders were quietly chatting, and the hottest C-list celebrity couple was staring googly-eyed at each other. The cameras were trained on every person of note in the room, all of whom tried to appear both dignified and concerned as the shot was taken. Fritz shivered and hoped the evening would end soon.

  At that moment there was a loud bang. Some guests shouted.

  Fritz carefully scanned the room. The blast had sounded like a cannon, and it was now followed by the rhythmic sounds of an army marching with heavy boots on asphalt. This was clearly not part of the presentation. A sharp whistling gave the impression that bombs were being dropped. Fritz knew these sounds from wartime documentaries. A loud explosion was followed by the rhythmic steps growing closer and closer.

  On stage, the screen lit up, and white text moved slowly across a black background.

  Lagussa

  Multinational

  Long-Standing Tradition

  Supports Mental Health

  Committed to the Fight Against Leukemia

  Several-Time Winner of Employer of the Year Award

  But do you have all the facts about Lagussa?

  The whole truth requires a look back to the Nazi era.

  Financially Supported the Nazi Party

  Used Forced Labor

  Conducted Medical Experiments on Concentration Camp Prisoners

  War Profiteer

  Never Brought to Justice

  The cover-up is over!

  For evidence of Lagussa’s dark past go to:

  www.truth-about-lagussa.de

  The room filled with rumblings and whispers. The photographers jostled at the edge of the stage and photographed like crazy. People took out their smartphones and typed in the web address. Fritz noticed frantic activity behind the tinted windows of the control room. He commended the protest and could not explain how Ben’s group had managed to do this without being noticed.

  Suddenly everything fell silent, and the screen went black.

  A moment later, a visibly shaken Ternheim reappeared on stage and grabbed the microphone. He cleared his throat several times and waited for silence.

  “Distinguished guests, we ask your pardon for this incident, which was apparently engineered by a group of troublemakers. It’s shameful that a charity event would be disrupted in this manner! Our security team has everything under control. We ask that you continue to enjoy the evening. We will take a short break. Please, take this opportunity to find refreshments at the bar. We will continue with the program in a half hour. I thank you for your understanding.”

  “What about the allegations surrounding Lagussa’s past?” shouted a journalist. “Is it true that Lagussa was in cahoots with the Nazis?”

  Ternheim visibly wrestled with the question. “Tomorrow we’ll hold a press conference to discuss the incident. This evening honors our fight against childhood leukemia. Let’s not provide a forum for the actions of a few rebels.”

  Murmurs of both approval and disapproval could be heard. Fritz got up and left the room. The stairs to the control room were blocked by two security guards, prompting Fritz to pull out his badge. The two men moved aside. He seemed to arrive at the control room at just the right time. A young man with horn-rimmed glasses was being held in a headlock. Mr. Ternheim was also in the small room, heatedly talking to an employee who was apparently in charge of the audiovisuals, while Ms. Stahl stood next to him, her face pale. The man in the headlock was gasping for air.

  “Are you trying to squeeze him to death?” Fritz said to the muscular security guard.

  “You stay out of this. He’s the one responsible for this mess!” He grabbed the young man by the hair and yanked his head back and forth.

  “That’s enough,” Fritz said and pulled out his badge. “Let go of him now! Mr. Ternheim, call your rabid dogs off!”

  Finally, they let the man go. He rubbed his neck and breathed deeply.

  “Damn, it wouldn’t have taken much more! What are you? Vigilantes?” said Fritz as he knelt down next to the young man. “Everything okay?”

  The young man gave a strained nod.

  “Get him a glass of water,” Fritz said to one of the security guards, then turned to Ternheim. “I have to say, you should be glad I barged in here. That could have been bad! How did the boy gain access to the control room?”

  “He tricked us,” said the AV guy. “Somehow he got a fake ID. He lied to me and said I was wanted downstairs to be informed about a change of program. He claimed it was just a small detail, so I quickly ran downstairs. There was, of course, no one, and when I tried to get back into the room again, the door was locked and the guy launched his thing!”

  Fritz nodded and glanced over at Ternheim, who looked completely distraught, his face wet with sweat. “Mr. Ternheim? How would you like to proceed? If you’d like to press charges, I’ll call a couple of colleagues.”

  “Yeah . . . no . . . I don’t know!” He shrugged in despair. “That would probably be best, I suppose. What do you think?”

  “Well, it depends. Maybe you should talk to your PR department. If the allegations are true, then it might not be worth it. But you also don’t need to decide now. We should take down the man’s details as a precaution.”

  “Then let’s do that. But could you maybe take care of it? There’s already been enough turmoil. I don’t want our guests to be upset by the presence of uniformed police officers.”

  Fritz shrugged. “That’s not really my job, but okay.” He turned back to the young man, who had been given a glass of water, and pulled up a chair. “I suppose you don’t deny being responsible for this incident?”

  “Responsible? Responsibility is a good word. Lagussa must finally take responsibility for the crimes committed during th
e Nazi era. Do you know that this company and the Nazi Party—”

  “I didn’t ask you about the history of Lagussa. What’s your name?”

  “Frank Richter.”

  “Do you have an ID on you?”

  Frank pulled a wallet out of his pocket and fumbled for his ID card.

  “Can I have a pen and paper?” Fritz asked the AV guy and took down Frank’s information. “Did you pull this thing off by yourself? Are any of your fellow activists still in the building?”

  “I know my rights and refuse to answer any questions.”

  Fritz sighed. Apparently, he was dealing with a battle-hardened activist. “You’re hereby banned from the premises and will leave the building immediately! The two gentlemen you’ve just met will escort you out. No more violence.”

  “Mr. Ternheim, we should talk in private,” Fritz said as the control room emptied. “It’s quite possible there may be more people here involved in this, and they might have even more surprises in store for you. Maybe you should consider canceling the event.”

  Ternheim shook his head. “This evening needs to end on a high note, and there are a number of prominent guests who have come especially for this gala.”

  “Whatever you say. It’s your decision. Nevertheless, we should talk briefly about the incident. Obviously Lagussa’s high on the list of an anti-Nazi group. Perhaps the death of your sister has something to do with it.”

  “All right. Do you have your phone on you? I can contact you later. Let me discuss what to do next with Ms. Stahl and then calm a couple of guests down. Later, we can talk in private.”

  Two hours later, Fritz strolled between the high tops on the terrace. The official program was over and the band was playing light dance music. Guests had already begun leaving, and the incident was still the main topic of conversation.

  Fritz saw Anna scanning the outdoor area in search of something. He waved to attract her attention and then made his way over.

  “Oh, hello, Mr. Janssen! Have you enjoyed the evening?”

  “Certainly. I hope you won’t get in trouble because the event didn’t go as smoothly as planned?”

  “At the moment, Mr. Ternheim is taking out all his anger on the poor guy in charge of the audiovisuals, even though he didn’t really make a mistake. But I’m no fool. Tomorrow, it’ll probably be my turn.”

  “It’s good that I ran into you. Mr. Ternheim and I wanted to talk in private this evening. He hasn’t called. Do you know where I can find him?”

  “Strange, I haven’t seen him since our conversation in the control room.”

  “He was going to call me, but so far . . .”

  Anna looked worried. “I’ve tried several times to reach him, but he isn’t picking up. Maybe he’s stuck in a conversation with an important guest.”

  “He must be around here somewhere. I’ll see if I can find him. But I don’t want to stick around much longer. Tomorrow’s looking to be another long day.”

  “If I see him, I’ll remind him he was supposed to get back to you,” she promised and headed toward the stage.

  Fritz decided to take a stroll around the grounds. He felt weary to his bones. He nibbled from the buffet and popped a strawberry in his mouth. He saw Anna again, and she looked tense.

  “Did you find Mr. Ternheim?” she asked.

  “No, and he hasn’t contacted me either.”

  “I’m really worried now! None of my colleagues has seen him, and some guests have asked about him. And he can’t be reached by phone. It just goes straight to voice mail.”

  “Maybe he left?”

  “He wouldn’t do that, not with this guest list! Besides, his car’s still in the parking lot. You know, this may sound a little paranoid, but what if more of these activists infiltrated the event and—”

  “You mean he might have been kidnapped?” Fritz asked. “Honestly, Ms. Stahl, I can’t imagine that. This group wants to draw attention to Lagussa’s past, and tonight, they succeeded. But I don’t think they’re the type of people who would kidnap someone. But I can talk to my colleague who has . . . well, certain contacts in this group.”

  “I’m probably just imagining things,” she said. “But his disappearance is strange. He knows how important the host is on nights like these.”

  FRIDAY NIGHT

  After a grueling session out on the water, Hannes peeled off his soaking clothes, hopped into the shower, and put on a tracksuit. Even if he overdid it, he still wanted to visit the gym for an hour in order to catch up on his routine. He was just about to push his gym bag back into the locker when his phone rang.

  “Hi, Fritz, what’s up?”

  “Listen, what did Ben and his colleagues actually have planned? They caused a scandal at the beginning of the gala, but I’m afraid they might have had something else up their sleeves too.”

  “Why, what happened?”

  Hannes grinned as Fritz gave his version of the events. Ben wasn’t lying when he said the newspapers would report in detail on the story.

  “What makes you think something else is going to happen?”

  “Because the activist in the control room was not alone, and Mr. Ternheim has disappeared.”

  Hannes laughed. “Are you suggesting Ben kidnapped him?”

  “What do I know? It’s just . . . Wait a minute, hold on . . . Yes, what is it?” Fritz seemed to have put down his cell phone; Hannes could hear muffled voices. Then he heard Fritz say, “Damn it, what are you saying?”

  Hannes sat down on a bench and waited.

  “Hannes? Get here now! Mr. Ternheim was just found. He’s dead!”

  “You’re kidding me! What . . . Where . . . ?”

  “Get here as fast as you can. I’ll call for backup.”

  “All right, I’ll change and—”

  “No, get here now!”

  When Hannes arrived at the old casino, there were already several emergency vehicles parked in the circular driveway in front of the building. A worried Hannes wrinkled his forehead. Things could get quite unpleasant for Ben. Apparently, it had been a bad idea after all to stage his protest against Lagussa. He quickly headed for the building. A senior colleague who had also been on the beach on Sunday recognized him and raised the police tape. “I’m warning you, he doesn’t look any better than his sister did on that damn beach.”

  Hannes nodded and gulped. Two deaths in one week. Was he really cut out for this?

  When he got to the scene, he saw Anna, who was leaning against a column, her face pale. She stood up and walked over. He felt uncomfortable wearing such inappropriate clothing while she was standing across from him in her elegant dress.

  “What’s going on?” she whispered. “I . . .” Her voice cracked and she began to sob. He stood in front of her with his arms hanging by his side.

  “She discovered the body,” a colleague whispered to him in a sympathetic voice.

  Hannes continued to stand there like a statue before finally taking Anna into his arms and leading her to a small bench. She hid her face in her hands and could not hold back the tears. He decided against comforting her with words and stroked her back instead. Slowly, her body relaxed, and she leaned against him.

  “Feeling better?” he asked.

  She nodded, and he rested his hand on her shoulder.

  She raised her head and looked at him with moist eyes. “We hadn’t seen him for hours. So I thought I’d look up here. I remembered that Mr. Ternheim had insisted on a room where he could talk in private with key guests. That’s why we rented the conference room as well.”

  Anna seemed to stare past Hannes and fell silent. He moved a little to get her attention. She blinked and turned toward him, and her eyes filled with tears again.

  “The door was closed . . . I knocked. When no response came, I opened it . . . and saw him lying right there,” she said, her voice choked.

  “Hannes!”

  When he looked up, Old Fritz was standing in front of him.

  “Please c
ome with me. I want to show you something.”

  “I’ll be back soon,” Hannes said to Anna, squeezing her arm. He got up and followed Fritz across the hall. Anna remained on the bench, staring at the floor.

  “Will she be all right?” Fritz asked.

  “I think so. The sight was too much for her. She’s devastated.”

  “Not surprised. Take a look for yourself.”

  Maria came to meet them at the doorway, wearing white latex gloves. With a languid flick of the hand, she brushed a strand of hair behind her ears. “Be careful, Hannes, it’s not a pretty sight.”

  He wondered if he had a reputation for being queasy after the incident on the beach. As a precaution, he kept some distance from the center of the room, where a figure lay surrounded by several colleagues from forensics. When one of the colleagues stood, Hannes flinched.

  Ternheim’s face had gone blue; the fixed eyes stared at the ceiling. The body was twisted slightly, and the sleeves of his suit and shirt were pushed up on his left arm. Even from a distance, it was possible to see that the skin was branded on the forearm with black numbers. Hannes immediately thought of Helene Ternheim’s forearm.

  He cautiously stepped closer and kept his eyes fixed on the dead man’s arm. This time, the tattoo wasn’t so clumsy: there were no red marks. Six numbers stood out on the pale skin. Four of the numbers were clearly recognizable, while the other two were slightly blurred. Again, it didn’t appear to be the work of a professional. Slowly his gaze traveled up the body, and his breath faltered. What he couldn’t see from the doorway leaped at him from up close. The mouth was wide open and seemed to be stuffed with something.

 

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