Nemesis: Innocence Sold

by Ross, Stefanie

  “What about his lawyer?”

  Sven took a deep breath. “If I’m not mistaken, we’ll meet him when we meet Tannhäuser. I hope we’ll be back soon and be able to take this guy on.”

  “I’ll keep an eye on him. And for Tim’s sake I’ll be especially nice to him.”

  CHAPTER 25

  On their way to Tannhäuser’s office, Sven informed Sandra of his agreements with the prosecutor’s office and the MEK.

  “How did you know things were going to go like this? And when in the world did you get all that done?”

  “Last night, when everyone was asleep. I got an earful for calling people that late, but it was worth it.”

  “Go on through,” said Ms. Walter, Tannhäuser’s secretary.

  Sven stopped and looked at all the coffee cups on a serving tray. He looked at Ms. Walter, who winked at him. “He would certainly have offered you coffee, but not his visitors. It was also only under protest that he moved to the conference room.”

  “Great,” said Sven. “Sorry, Sandra. You can’t yet know how to assess our boss’s mood. It’s very simple: coffee and conference room, and all is right with the world. If you sit right in front of his desk and are addressed only by your last name, that’s like a storm warning. In between there are some intermediate stages.”

  “And? Have you ever landed right in front of his desk?”

  “Ever?” Sven said, making Sandra and Ms. Walter smile. “Tannhäuser was already my boss when I was working undercover for the drug unit. There are some disadvantages in being known that well by your boss.” He opened the door and turned to Sandra. “But also some advantages.”

  Other than Tannhäuser, three men and a woman looked at them from the conference room. Tannhäuser and Senior Prosecutor Friedrichs, a stocky man in his fifties, stood. With a slight delay, the other men followed their example and greeted Sandra and Sven. Given the suits and BlackBerrys on the table, Sandra assumed they were attorneys. She didn’t know the men but was familiar with their names. The criminal defense lawyer Hans Ludewig was among the most expensive and unfortunately also the best the Hanseatic city had to offer. His colleague Jörg Bohnsack had positively embarrassed the Hamburg police a few weeks before and, due to a few minor errors by some of her colleagues, achieved an acquittal instead of a certain conviction. Sandra didn’t like it at all that two high-profile attorneys were taking on the defense. Sven had apparently counted on this, and Sandra hoped he knew a way that wouldn’t end in their being forced to release the bastards.

  With tense anticipation, Sandra greeted the prosecutor Natascha Berg. When they had last encountered each other, Natascha had refused to initiate proceedings against Mark and had rejected each of Sandra’s accusations. Her behavior at the time had been legally unimpeachable, but Sandra had noticed during their dealings that the prosecutor had a friendly relationship with the SEAL, and she doubted her objectivity. Back then Sandra had hated going up against the tight phalanx of Sven and Natascha Berg; today, she was counting on their bond. In other circumstances, she would have laughed about the change of sides; now, she sat calmly and returned the prosecutor’s smile.

  “We’re still waiting for two gentlemen who should be here any moment,” Tannhäuser said. He was obviously not interested in small talk, and he blocked every attempt by the older attorney to make conversation, while Sandra thought about who they might be waiting for. Dirk was a sure bet, and she hoped the other man wasn’t Daniel. By this time, she knew how he would react to this meeting. Extreme irritation would be putting it mildly.

  Her concern was unjustified; Dirk entered alongside Kerlinski. The detective nodded to the attorneys and greeted Tannhäuser and the representatives of the public prosecutor’s office much more heartily. With this, the fronts were established, but apparently this wasn’t enough for Kerlinski. Almost effusively, he turned to Sven and Sandra and thanked them once again for their help. Sandra wisely refrained from explaining that she had been sleeping on Daniel’s couch when his daughter had been rescued.

  Dirk and Sven followed the drama with neutral faces; only their eyes betrayed that they were enjoying the show. This would be interesting.

  Sandra’s gaze fell on the prosecutor, who managed to conceal her amusement behind a businesslike expression. After reaching a wordless agreement with her superior, she took over the moderation of the conference. “Since we all have busy schedules, we should get right to the point. I don’t have to point out that this way of proceeding is extremely unusual. But given the urgency of your request, my boss and I have agreed to this meeting. I must also admit that what you’ve hinted at here has made me curious. The accusation of arbitrary police action and the claim that the arrested suspects should receive a reward rather than be sitting in a jail cell has naturally gotten our attention.” She tapped a fat file folder sitting in front of her. “Are you certain we’re talking about the same case?”

  In Sandra’s view, this statement was a clear victory. It was thanks to Sven that every regulation had been followed to the letter, and the attorneys found accusing them of procedural errors to be a hard nut to crack. Within a few minutes, Ludewig switched tactics and attacked Sven, as the highest-ranking police officer other than Tannhäuser, directly, accusing him of incompetence and a serious misunderstanding of the situation: his clients had in fact only been attempting to rescue the girl themselves when they were arrested by the police.

  Sandra stared at the attorneys in disbelief. She hadn’t expected such nonsense from them. She almost choked as she kept herself from making a comment to this effect.

  Tannhäuser leaned back, surprisingly calm. “That’s all you have? Your wild theory conflicts with the statements made by my incredibly competent colleagues.”

  The younger attorney, Bohnsack, obviously felt uncomfortable and seemed more interested in a message he had received on his BlackBerry.

  Ludewig raised his hands in an apologetic gesture. “One could certainly interpret the events of last night in this way, and doing so would help us all.”

  “Why us?” Natascha Berg asked. “To me, this looks like an airtight case. I don’t have the slightest doubt that the custodial judge will decide in our favor. Do I really have to explain the concepts of risk of flight and risk of suppression of evidence?”

  After receiving a prompting look from his colleague, Bohnsack spoke for the first time. “No. Thank you very much, Madam Prosecutor, that will not be necessary. But we wanted to offer you an opportunity to keep the identity of the client you arrested and treated extremely brutally last night from becoming known to the public. It seems obvious to us that the police have attempted to distract attention from the true perpetrator and even to help this perpetrator.”

  Puzzled, Sandra looked at the attorneys. This was turning more and more incomprehensible. Bohnsack seemed not to be feeling particularly well when he removed some photographs from his file folder. “I’ll confine myself to the short version. Our clients were offered an opportunity to purchase the girl, as it were. The gentlemen responded to this offer and hoped they’d be able to resolve the matter on their own and subsequently hand the real perpetrator over to the police. Call it youthful arrogance. My clients couldn’t suspect that these perpetrators are on very good terms with the police and that they would end up in the sights of the public prosecutor’s office and the LKA.”

  The only explanation for this plea that occurred to Sandra was so crazy she almost choked when she took a breath. “You’re suggesting that—”

  Her gaze strayed to Kerlinski, who had gone chalk white and interrupted her: “Have you gone insane? What is it you’re suggesting? I’m supposed to have . . . ?” With every word, the private detective had gotten louder until he was roaring without restraint, and Sandra couldn’t blame him.

  “Take it easy, Michael. We’ll take care of this,” Dirk said to restrain him when the detective leaned far across the table.

  Unimpressed by Kerlinski’s self-righteous outrage, the attorney p
ushed the photographs over to Tannhäuser. “I think these pictures speak for themselves. Take a look, and then let’s talk about what we can do to make this embarrassing situation go away.”

  From where Sandra was sitting, she was able to look at the photographs alongside Tannhäuser. She recognized Kerlinski immediately; he obviously seemed to be perpetrating an offense against a blond girl who was at most five years old. In the background, Sandra could make out a narrow strip of sand, gray-blue sea, and clouds that would have been at home in a picture book. The action was taking place in front of a roofed wicker beach chair. She looked at the barely visible shadow in front of the beach chair and shook her head. Without respect for hierarchy or the police chief’s horrified silence, she grabbed the photograph and contemptuously threw it to the attorneys. “I’d like to repeat Mr. Tannhäuser’s question from a few minutes ago: Is that all you have? Just these obvious fakes you probably slapped together last night? Just because someone knows how to use an image-editing program, you cast doubt on the involved officers’ mission report? You see how the sun’s shining out from behind the clouds over the sea? Now please tell me why the shadow of the beach chair suggests the sun’s just passed the zenith. A cheap photomontage! You should be ashamed of yourselves. Doesn’t the principle of due diligence apply to attorneys?”

  With the last sentence, Sandra attempted to reestablish the professionalism she had abandoned. When the silence continued, she began to feel increasingly uncomfortable. Then the prosecutor laughed. “You have a sharp eye. One can tell you’ve dealt with such material—more than my highly paid colleagues on the other side of the table.”

  Ludewig ignored the prosecutor and instead looked intently at the photos. Finally, he nodded. “You’re completely right. I must apologize; perhaps you’ll understand that I wasn’t particularly inclined to take a closer look at the photos than necessary, but it would have been better if I had done so.”

  “You should apologize to Mr. Kerlinski,” said Ms. Berg.

  Visibly discomforted, the attorneys avoided the reproachful looks and showed great interest in a painting on the wall that depicted a four-mast vessel in a storm. Sandra expected a continuation of the sham battle, but she was mistaken: Ludewig pulled himself together. “That didn’t go optimally,” the otherwise well-spoken attorney said, stating the obvious.

  The senior prosecutor, who had held back until now, stood up and looked at the attorneys with disapproval. “Despite the fact that we’re on opposite sides in court, I’ve absolutely always appreciated your work up to now. If I consider how many very busy people’s time you’ve wasted, ‘annoyed’ is much too weak to express how I feel. I’d like to make reference to the moral aspect of this, but I’ll skip it. If you would like to say anything more, please do so.”

  Sandra didn’t expect the prosecutor’s appeal to be successful, but it was. Supporting himself with both hands on the table, Ludewig pushed himself upright and found his smile again. “I must indeed apologize for the waste of time, particularly because we, in contrast to you, will be able to bill our clients for it. Off the record: after I’d listened to the facts the first time, I made it clear to our client that the chances of success were extremely small. I received the photos only this morning.”

  Bohnsack took over seamlessly: “We both should have been less trusting—I’ll admit that—but I won’t apologize for doing my job.”

  After a frosty farewell, the two attorneys left the office. Senior Prosecutor Friedrichs took his farewell, mentioning a follow-up meeting; Dirk and Kerlinski went off to make another attempt to confront the newspaper publisher.

  “Let’s see if we get farther than the parking lot this time,” Dirk said and earned a smile from his superior.

  A few minutes later, Sandra was once again standing in the hall off which Sven and Dirk’s offices and the interrogation room lay. Now, however, she was accompanied by the prosecutor, who had joined them without explanation.

  Sven pointed at his office. “You still have something—or am I wrong?”

  Natascha Berg gave them a forced smile. “I’m not here to admire the view. Five minutes and I’m gone—or not.”

  Despite the implied threat, Sven politely held the door for her and laughed after taking a look at his desk. “Ms. Walter’s great—or our boss wanted to show us he’s satisfied.”

  A seductive selection of cookies and a thermos of coffee stood where his files normally were. Also a silver pitcher of milk and a sugar dispenser. “Well, make yourselves at home,” Sven said and reached for the phone to thank Tannhäuser’s secretary.

  Sandra took it upon herself to pour coffee for everyone and calculated how long she would have to jog to burn off one of the chocolate cookies. Then she shook this thought off. Cookies from a supermarket looked different; these were more likely to have come from an expensive Hamburg confectionery. She would be crazy to let this opportunity slip away; she helped herself.

  Natascha Berg did the same. “That’s going to take at least two miles, but these things are worth it,” she said.

  “Do you run, too?”

  “No, Nordic walking, and please don’t make any remarks about the sticks. A friend and . . .”—after hesitating, the prosecutor smiled—“and Pat take care of that. I’m really glad nothing happened to that hothead this morning. Sven, my compliments on the files. Your efforts have paid off.”

  Sven nodded and stretched. He grimaced when a vertebra cracked. “God, I need a vacation.”

  The mention of Pat made Sandra absolutely sure that the prosecutor knew of the involvement of the SEALs in their investigation. Sven ate a cookie and stared at the ceiling. “It’d be easier if we just killed all those guys.”

  Natascha pressed her hands against her ears. “I don’t want to hear that. Understood?”

  His brow furrowed, Sven’s gaze wandered from the cookies to the prosecutor. “Why not? I thought I was talking to Tim’s godmother. The strict prosecutor would never sit here and grab my last chocolate cookie away from me, would she?”

  “I didn’t; there were only three. Keep your hands off the vanilla cookies because I like those, too, and make sure that you continue to operate respectably within the confines of the law. Understood?”

  Sven saluted. “Yes, ma’am. But right now those sonny boys are on my agenda. Do you want to watch?”

  “Of course, that’s why I’m here. I just wasn’t sure if it was all right with you.”

  “No problem. I’ll probably refrain from using the rack and hot needles; otherwise you’d just have to close your eyes.” He yawned as he stood. “When I’m done with them and have taken care of the paperwork, I’m going to sleep for an entire day.”

  “Finish your coffee first, and give yourself a five-minute break,” said Natascha, and Sandra agreed. It was clear from looking at Sven that he had barely slept the last few nights. She knew it wouldn’t be possible to take care of the paperwork in a few minutes.

  “If you say so.” Sven dropped back onto his chair. He responded to a knock on his door with a growl.

  Matthias entered. His gaze swept immediately to the plate of cookies; then he drew Sandra into his arms. “Man, girl. You’re getting up to things. Are you doing all right? Everything OK? Is Doc behaving himself? I’ve already made clear to him what’s going to happen if he’s not nice to you.”

  Sandra enjoyed the big hug; then she remembered Sven and the prosecutor. “I’m sure Daniel trembled with fear when he heard your threat,” she said with a smile. “I’m sorry I haven’t been in touch. But I still don’t have my phone back, and I’ve hardly had time.”

  “Don’t worry about that. The short e-mail you sent yesterday said plenty. At least after that I knew you were still alive. But I’ve just been with Stephan, who thought I’d find you here, and he was nice enough to give me a brief summary—extrabrief, one might say. But I liked your move with the taxi. Finally arrived, right? I’m glad.”

  Sandra shrugged and pushed the cookie plate over to h
im. “Admit it, you smelled them, right? These are different from the ones you usually eat, so enjoy them.”

  Matthias grabbed a cookie. His shining eyes made her smile. “Are you here officially or unofficially?” he asked, recognizing the prosecutor’s presence for the first time.

  “Good morning to you, too, Matthias. If you like, I can forget your unconventional methods for five minutes and concentrate on the result.”

  “It’s quite harmless, anyway. Daniel’s carrying on in Stephan’s office. He and some colleagues are going over various materials and looking for connections and so on. But they have another starting point. Daniel’s just spoken to Tom on the phone; Tom’s established a connection between Martin and Jake. Now they’re sitting in Doc’s modest hut and speaking computer jargon to each other while Tom runs around outside with Kaspar,” Matthias said, not eating the last vanilla cookie.

  “Who’s Kaspar? Oh, it doesn’t matter now, anyway.”

  The prosecutor’s last comment was made in reference to the tempting pastry with the dollop of red marmalade in the center, which she took from the almost empty plate.

  Sandra followed her example, and, in spite of Matthias’s dachshund look, grabbed the next-to-last cookie for herself and pushed the last one over to Sven. “Think of your figure,” she reminded Matthias before she answered Natascha’s question. “Martin’s my brother, and Kaspar’s his dog. A trained police dog that was supposed to have been put to sleep following an injury because he was allegedly no longer suited for active duty. As if—he’s now completely well again. His dog handler was just an idiot. Martin had participated in the mission and practically adopted him; since then the two have been inseparable. He was worried and showed up at our place yesterday.”

  “Who? The dog?” Sven asked, needling her.

  Sandra smiled and waved this off. The short break and the harmless banter had obviously done Sven some good. She made a mental note to cross-examine her brother later. He must think she was pretty stupid if he thought she hadn’t noticed his gun. She didn’t believe in his “harmless computer evaluations,” but for the time being she was thankful for the fact that he and the SEALs were getting along well, even if they clearly enjoyed keeping their real jobs secret from one another—men and their silly games.