‘I poured it all out.’
‘You poured it out?!’ Nik was furious.
‘Nik, are you not aware how much flatulence is—’
‘Stop!’ Nik cried. ‘I need to make some space in the fridge.’ He slammed the door again.
‘OK, but don’t throw it away! It’s a special delivery straight from Italy!’ Balthasar called from the landing. He put his ear up to the door and heard a window being opened. Swiftly followed by a series of smashes, then car brakes, a horn and the harsh clatter of metal.
‘Oh well, karma is a bitch, I suppose,’ said Balthasar, smiling and rounding up his bags. It looked like he’d have to spend a few nights in a hotel. Thankfully, he’d only packed the bare necessities. He stopped for a moment. ‘Feels like I’ve forgotten something.’
‘Oh my God, that’s disgusting!’ Balthasar heard Nik shouting from inside the flat.
‘Oh, that was it!’ said Balthasar joyfully. He put his head up to the door. ‘Now be careful, Nik,’ he called. ‘Latex is delicate!’
Chapter 13
The sunny weather matched Nik’s mood perfectly and the snow had a calming effect as he walked through the English Garden, newspaper in hand. ‘Haven’t seen you this happy in a long time,’ remarked Mira. Despite it being milder, she was still wearing her winter jacket, a scarf and a woollen hat. Nik pointed to the front page. Underneath a photo of the clinic were the words ‘Medical Trial Scandal’ printed in large letters. And underneath that was a photo of Dr Gawinski.
Mira nodded approvingly. ‘How did you pull that off?’
‘With a mixture of evidence and forgery,’ Nik began. ‘Thanks to the files, samples of my blood and the stolen samples, there was no doubt Gawinski was testing out disulfiram on people without their knowledge.’
‘And why?’
‘To treat alcohol addiction. If taken together, alcohol and disulfiram can be deadly. The side effects are horrific. But if someone could alter the substance to limit the side effects to feeling unwell and throwing up at worst, it would be a fantastic way to treat alcohol addiction . . . and it would rake in billions.’
‘Actually sounds like a good thing.’
‘Well, yeah, but Balthasar reckons if Gawinski hadn’t tested it like he did, on patients who were clueless, he’d only have made minimal progress.’
‘Why didn’t he just go about it legally and test it on willing people?’
‘Because it never got approval. So instead, he just used his patients as guinea pigs. All that money he was making at the clinic went towards researching and refining the substance.’
‘Did anyone die?’
‘Balthasar thinks there were two cases where the interaction between the medication and alcohol led to death. But it’ll be up to the public prosecutor to decide that. We gave the press all the bits of evidence that make for sensational headlines. We had to ruin Gawinski’s reputation.’
‘And what did you fake?’
‘The report on Leo’s death,’ said Nik. It still hurt to think about him. The way he’d faked being drunk so Nik could get away. ‘We forged a letter from Gawinski to Alois and the clinic’s security manager where he recommends Leo should be dealt with because he’d found out about the trials. They killed Leo after I got the files off the computer, so there was no mention of him anywhere. We needed something that would give the investigators a prod in the right direction.’
‘And what really happened to him?’
‘His death certificate says he had a fatal fall, but the public prosecutor has ordered an autopsy. And now, because of the press leak, there’s so much attention surrounding Leo’s death that nobody would be able to cover anything up. Not like Kathrin, who just had to disappear silently.’
‘And what is the deal with Kathrin? And Viola and Olga for that matter?’
‘We found files on Kathrin’s stay in the clinic but nothing whatsoever about Viola or Olga. Them going missing had nothing to do with the medical tests.’
‘So it was just a coincidence that all three were in the clinic?’
‘God no,’ said Nik with complete conviction. ‘That’s the only connection we have. Just because we can’t link those two to the tests, doesn’t mean there isn’t a link to the staff or patients. We just need to find out who.’
‘And how are you going to do that? You’re suspended, so it’s not like you can just interrogate Dr Gawinski or the patients.’
‘With a timeline,’ Nik explained. ‘We know when Kathrin stayed at the clinic. And we know the days of the parties when Olga and Viola were working. So now we need to get the names of the staff and patients who were in the clinic at the same time as Kathrin and compare their photos with the people at The Palace on the night Viola went missing.’
‘Sounds like a lot of work.’
‘It is.’ Nik smiled. ‘But not for a computer whizz.’
‘Looks like you’ve grown quite fond of this Jon bloke.’
Nik gave Mira a sharp look. ‘Jon threatened and blackmailed me into doing this case. I’ve been beaten up twice, tortured . . . and I was almost shot! And he’s the reason I got suspended!’
‘But he did uncover a medical scandal.’
‘By accident,’ Nik reminded Mira.
‘But isn’t it nice to know you caught a ruthless doctor who would’ve just carried on killing . . . or getting to expose all that corruption at the CID?’
Nik groaned stubbornly.
‘He even got you enjoying your job again. Can’t remember the last time you were this chatty.’
‘Now you’re just exaggerating.’
Mira laughed. ‘OK, so Jon’s way of getting you on the case might not have been the most orthodox, but one thing’s for sure, he definitely knew you were the right guy for the job.’
Nik’s phone started to ring. He looked down at the screen. ‘Speak of the devil,’ Nik mumbled, answering the call. ‘Yep?’
‘I’m finished,’ said Jon, sounding relieved. ‘That was torture but we’ve got two new suspects. Both were at the clinic while Kathrin was there, and both are on the club footage. Crappy quality, but you can see their faces.’
‘Great.’
‘Jump in the hire car and drive towards Obergiesing,’ said Jon. ‘I’ll send you the first suspect’s details in a minute.’
The flat could have been bachelor-pad heaven. A two-hundred-square-metre loft-style apartment with dark parquet flooring scattered with light grey rugs, and a large white sofa. It also had a modern kitchen, a large LED TV and a Jacuzzi on the patio, which looked on to a back garden full of apple trees. But currently the place was a rotting mess. Completely neglected by whoever was staying there. The floor was hidden under a sea of unopened letters, newspapers, empty champagne bottles, old takeaway boxes and dirty clothes. The white couch was covered in large coffee stains and dirty plates were stacked high on top of the hob. The curtain at the patio door had been ripped down and left draped over a broken stool.
‘This is what you normally see with junkies,’ Nik said into his phone as he peeked through the living room window. ‘Not your typical junkie hideout though.’
‘Belongs to Silvio Verbeck. The son of a property mogul who owns buildings on Marienplatz and Kaufingerstraße. Silvio inherited one of those buildings from his dad and gets a healthy income from the rent.’
‘And what does he do?’
‘He’s got shares in a bar and two restaurants. You can see him on every other photo on their social media sites.’
‘Anything else?’
‘Thirty-four years old. Born in Munich. Picked up twice for drug consumption – so no driving licence. But he’s never been to jail.’
‘Any violent offences?’
‘No,’ Jon answered. ‘He’s been a resident at Gawinski’s twice. The first time for six weeks, the second for three months. He must have had contact with the women during that time.’
‘I’ll knock.’ Nik went to the front door, which was covered by a small awning, a
nd saw two cameras. One directly above the entry system and the other at the edge of the awning. There was a small, well-kept garden in front of the entrance area, which itself had been laid with light-coloured paving slabs. Silvio clearly wanted to keep up appearances on the outside of the building. Nik pressed the buzzer. He heard a loud gong from the front door. There was a long silence. He was just considering whether he should break into the flat when a man’s voice came over the intercom.
‘Hello?’ He sounded like he’d just woken up.
‘Hello, Herr Verbeck. It’s Inspector Pohl from the Munich CID.’ Nik held up his fake badge to the camera. ‘I need to talk to you about your stay at the Meadows Beauty Resort.’
‘Don’t know it,’ said the man.
‘Maybe you haven’t read the news, but the clinic’s been shut down and all files have been passed on to the public prosecutor’s office,’ Nik lied. ‘Your files are there too.’
‘That’s private information,’ Verbeck replied. ‘And I don’t have any time. Call my lawyer.’
‘Herr Verbeck,’ Nik went on, ‘I just need to speak with you for a few minutes. A couple of questions, and then I’m gone. Or . . . I can just get my colleague from the drug squad to come down with a search warrant for your flat. Whatever the case, you’ll have to talk to me at some point.’
Verbeck said nothing. Then the buzzer sounded, and Nik pushed open the door.
The smell inside the flat was even worse than the mess. The living room window hadn’t been opened in days and the air was warm with the sour smell of booze and mouldy food. Verbeck met all the criteria of a well-to-do drug addict. His brown hair was greasy and dishevelled, he hadn’t shaved in days and his skin was a sickly pale tone. He had a small cut above his left eye, probably the result of a fight. His tailored white shirt was creased and stained and the top two buttons were undone. As was the fly on his Karl Lagerfeld jeans. He was wearing Bugatti sunglasses and an ostentatious gold ring on his index finger. His hands were shaking and sweat beaded his brow. He forced out a quick and grudging ‘Hello’ as Nik shook his hand. He stank and clearly hadn’t washed in days. His mouth let out a heavy stench that mismatched his bleached teeth. Nik gestured towards the couch and they both sat down.
‘Herr Verbeck, why did you stay at the Meadows Beauty Resort?’
‘Well, it wasn’t for the manicures,’ he answered snippily, wiping his nose with the back of his hand. Verbeck showed all the signs of an addict in withdrawal and would want to get rid of Nik as quickly as possible. Nik could use this to his advantage.
‘If you don’t mind me asking, what’s the um . . . problem?’
‘Drugs.’
‘And which ones?’
‘Coke, for fuck’s sake,’ Verbeck snapped. ‘So I do a bit of charlie now and again. So what? They used to put the stuff in Coca-Cola and no one cared. They should start again . . . might calm people down a bit.’ He pressed his hand down firmly against his lap in an attempt to stop the shaking. Nik took out a notepad and wrote something down. He was going to drag the meeting out as long as he could; Verbeck looked unstable and his eyes were springing in all directions, as if he was on the lookout for an imaginary stalker. But periodically they would rest for a moment on an antique office desk. Probably where he kept his drugs.
‘Did you make any acquaintances at the clinic?’
‘Acquaintances?’
‘Yes. Other patients, members of staff, doctors . . . ?’ Nik suggested. ‘People you saw on a daily basis?’
‘Mostly just that bastard, Alois.’ Verbeck got angry just saying his name. ‘Felt like smacking him the first time I met him. Always looking up at the ceiling to think. Arrogant piece of shit.’
‘Anyone else?’
‘Of course,’ he said, turning his palms towards the ceiling impatiently. ‘Class leaders, canteen staff, cleaners. What a stupid question.’
‘What about Leopold von Waldbach?’
‘Never heard of him.’
‘Peter Maier.’ Nik made up the name.
‘No.’
‘Viola Rohe?’
Verbeck’s eyes darted to meet Nik’s, holding them there for just a second. But it was exactly the second Nik needed.
‘Don’t know anyone called Viola.’
‘Oh. That’s strange,’ replied Nik. ‘Because Viola was in the clinic at the same time as you.’
‘There were loads of patients there at the same time as me. D’you think I spoke to all of them?’
‘Viola wasn’t a patient. She helped out at the Wednesday-night orgies. Not as a prostitute. Giving out drinks.’ Verbeck’s eyes were brimming with panic. ‘Coming back to you now?’
‘I never went to those parties.’ It was so obvious Verbeck was lying, Nik could have laughed.
‘If you say so,’ Nik said. ‘But you see, I’ve got video footage of you at The Palace on 22 and 23 October 2016. And guess who was working behind the bar that night?’
‘Get out!’ Verbeck shot up from the couch and pointed to the door. ‘I don’t need to listen to this shit.’
Nik calmly put his notepad back in his pocket. ‘Actually, you do. Just in a slightly more formal setting.’
‘Out! Get out!’ Verbeck was waving his arms around frantically.
Smiling contentedly, Nik stood up and walked towards the door, which he then slammed behind him. His plan had worked. They had a new suspect. By the time he had got to the street, Verbeck had rolled down the blinds. So Nik climbed over the garden fence and watched him through the glass patio door from behind a hedge. Verbeck was on his mobile, gesticulating madly. The door was well insulated but Nik could still make out some words.
‘And why the hell’s he turning up at my house?’ cried Verbeck, falling back on to the couch. His voice was shrieking and his body trembled. He went on talking for another minute before throwing his phone down. He left the room and went in what looked like the direction of the bathroom. Nik climbed nimbly back over the fence and got in the car. He called Jon.
‘It’s looking good,’ Nik began. ‘I’d barely even finished saying “Viola” when he went off on one and screamed at me to get out.’
‘So could he be involved in her disappearance?’ asked Jon.
‘It’s possible. But in his condition, he wouldn’t be able to hide a thing. Tilo would have never trusted a junkie like that and he also wouldn’t have risked Dr Cüpper’s career by using him.’ Nik sighed. He still didn’t understand it. ‘Nah, Verbeck definitely isn’t at the top of the food chain. What’s his family situation like?’
‘His dad’s dead. His two older brothers manage most of the family property company. And . . . his mum lives in Marbella. There are rumours that the brothers don’t get along. Silvio wasn’t allowed into a charity event organised by the family company not long ago.’
‘So we can rule out the Verbecks as a supporting party.’
‘Sounds like it,’ replied Jon. ‘So what now?’
‘Verbeck called someone as soon as I closed the door and he was instantly fighting with whoever it was. Something else will happen today. Either Verbeck will get visitors, or he’ll leave the house to meet up with someone. Until then, I’ll wait in the car.’
‘Would it be worth breaking in?’
‘It’d be difficult,’ said Nik. ‘The door and windows are pretty much impossible to break. You can get into the garden easily but all the glass in the house is safety glass. Unless he happens to leave the patio door open, I’m not getting in. And I didn’t see anything of interest inside the place anyway. No computer, no tablet. No files or records. Not even any books. The only thing that might be of any use is his mobile, but I’m not breaking in just for that. I can get it off him when he’s out and about. If he’s off his face on coke he wouldn’t notice a pink elephant following him down the street.’
‘OK, well, while you’re waiting, I’ll try to find some more on our second suspect.’
‘Who is it?’
‘A young businessman called
Eberhard Lossau. Don’t know much about him but I know he’s on a business trip in China right now. Gets back in a couple of days. So we can concentrate on the rich junkie for the time being.’
The front door opened and Verbeck came out wearing a winter jacket and a woollen hat. He kept his head down, like a Hollywood star who doesn’t want to be recognised.
‘Show time,’ said Nik, getting out of the car. ‘Let’s see if my new buddy leads me to the big boys.’
Luckily Verbeck went on foot. Following him through Munich’s traffic without him noticing would have been a challenge. It was Wednesday lunch time and the pavements were reasonably quiet. The snow had stopped but it was still cold and people would only leave the house if they really had to. Verbeck was waiting to cross the road when his mobile rang. He took a set of Bluetooth headphones out of his pocket and put them in his ears. He began to talk. His voice was calm now and he wasn’t gesticulating or screaming anymore. He was concentrating so hard on the telephone call, it made it easier for Nik to follow him. He would have loved to get closer and listen to what he was talking about but he had to keep a good distance. There weren’t enough shops on his side of the street where he could hide if Verbeck suddenly turned around, nor were there enough people to just slip into a group. But he didn’t turn around once. Nik followed him for another fifteen minutes before Verbeck stopped at a junction. He looked around, trying to find the right way, then pressed his hand to his ear as if he was listening to directions. He finally nodded and went down a small side street. Nik stayed at the corner and watched as Verbeck walked down the street slowly, looking left and right, trying to find the right number. He finally stopped at a building with a shipping container in front of it and went inside.
Nik waited until Verbeck had disappeared and followed him inside. It was a classic old Munich building made from sandstone, with intricately carved window pediments and a small garden at the front which was separated from the road with a high metal fence. The doors had been left slightly ajar, as if someone was expecting Verbeck to arrive. Nik went in carefully and looked up. The place smelled like screed and the bannister on the wide wooden staircase had been covered with tarpaulin, as had all the landings and staircases. The interior was clearly being refurbished. Nik closed his eyes and focused on any sounds. He couldn’t hear footsteps or anything to suggest people were working in the building. He also hadn’t seen any vans at the front door. Apparently nobody was working today. The only thing he heard was Verbeck’s hushed voice coming from upstairs. Nik couldn’t understand a word and waited for other voices to join in the conversation. But none did. Verbeck was still alone. Something strange was going on.
Broken Glass Page 20
