‘We’re talking about several hundred firms. That’s going to take a while,’ Pavlik says. ‘Perhaps the Federal Police should do that one, they’ve got more people.’
‘Mr Pavlik, I’m not going to talk right now. Miss Aaron, please come with me.’ Demirci puts Aaron’s hand in the crook of her arm and hurries to the lift with her. ‘Normally I would bring in a case analyst from the State Office of Criminal Investigation, the LKA. But you know Holm better than anyone else. I’d love to take your condition into account, but I can’t afford to. Sorry.’
‘No need.’
*
‘Miss Helm, I need to speak to the Senator of the Interior.’
‘Straight away. Enderlin, the director of the LKA in Berlin, has called twice. He says the State Office is responsible.’
‘That’s what worries me.’ Demirci goes into the next room with Aaron and closes the door. ‘One moment.’ She makes a call. ‘Mr Enderlin, I’ll keep it short. The Department demands hostage release via the Federal Public Prosecutor, we’re going alone. However, we do need a KT 6 from you.’ The bomb disposal unit. ‘Your team must be ready for duty in thirty minutes, our logistics expert will call you. If further support is required, I’ll let you know.’ Her voice is assuming an irritable undertone. ‘I understand that. But the Interior Ministers’ Conference has already been informed. Goodbye.’
No, they haven’t yet. But they don’t give a damn anyway. Wow.
Aaron feels for the chair by the desk.
‘Half a metre further to the right,’ Demirci says.
She sits down.
‘Is there an alternative to the release of Sascha?’
‘No.’
‘He could refuse a swap.’
‘Why should he?’
‘In Spain he was sentenced to forty-eight years’ imprisonment. When he was transferred to Berlin the sentence was made subject to German law. That means, given the seriousness of the case, that he could possibly be released in twelve years.’
‘That’s your offer? At least another twelve years in jail and then a hope of clemency?’
‘It’s negotiable.’
‘We’re not authorized to promise anything of the kind. Only a judge could do that. He has murdered at least eight people, including five policemen in France and Spain. What judge would get involved in that?’
‘Sascha isn’t a legal expert,’ Demirci says. ‘My chief goal is the release of the hostages. I’m concerned with gaining time until we’ve found the bus. Then we’re in a different position. Holm won’t kill thirty people and himself.’
‘Don’t do it.’
‘What?’
‘Underestimate him.’
A pack of cigarettes rustles. Aaron imagines: the silent circling of the drones, hawks with no prey. Demirci says: ‘The armour you talked to me about belonged to a janissary. You know who the janissaries were?’
‘No.’
‘The Sultan’s lifeguard. They were trained to kill as boys.’
‘Are you referring to Sascha’s upbringing by his brother?’
‘Even though they had sworn loyalty to the Sultan, the janissaries rose up against him. Holm is sending Sascha into a hopeless situation, someone has to make that clear to him.’
‘Miss Demirci, for three hours you’ve been showing us why you’re the head of the Department. So far you haven’t lost your calm even once. But you’re troubled by a bigger problem than Sascha. What is it?’
Demirci puts the cigarette back in the pack. ‘Even if we hand Holm’s brother over to him, there’s still the five million. I doubt that I’ll get hold of a sum like that. Do you think it’s negotiable?’
‘No.’
‘You said money meant nothing to Holm.’
‘Money isn’t what matters to him. It’s power. I could also give you a practical argument. He knows the notes are registered, he has to wash them, and in the end he’ll be left with half at most. But that’s all irrelevant. Believe me: if you don’t fulfil all his requirements, he will make his threat come true.’
‘And die himself?’
‘He isn’t worried about that.’
Helmchen is on the intercom: ‘It’s the Senator of the Interior, for you.’
‘Thank you, Miss Helm.’ Demirci turns to Aaron. ‘Would you please excuse me?’
‘If you don’t mind, I’d like to listen in.’
‘Fine.’ She switches to speaker phone. ‘Demirci.’
‘Svoboda.’
‘Senator, an hour ago we talked about Holm and the death of three of my men. The situation has escalated. Holm has got hold of a coach. He’s threatening to murder thirty hostages. Possibly children.’
Svoboda takes remarkably little time to process that information. ‘Where is the coach?’
‘We don’t know. Somewhere in Berlin. They’re searching with all available forces.’
‘What are Holm’s demands?’
‘He wants his brother to be released.’ There’s a whole world in Demirci’s pause. ‘And five million Euros.’
Svoboda snorts audibly.
‘I’d like to take this case on.’
‘You’ve already done that. Enderlin complained about your tone. OK. Don’t you think you should have talked to me first? Or has the line of duty changed overnight?’
He’s known about the abduction for ages. And he’s making Demirci work. What a bastard. That’s exactly how I remember him.
*
Ten things that Aaron doesn’t miss:
postcards
her face at seven in the morning.
the films of Almodóvar
girls putting on their make-up in pub toilets
constantly checking the rear-view mirror
men gawping at her
the eyes saying something different from the mouth
menus with pictures
looking into a cold tin of ravioli
*
‘We specialize in hostage releases,’ Demirci says. ‘Holm has given us a two-hour ultimatum. I wanted to be sure the LKA wasn’t treading on our toes.’
Svoboda writes down each word separately in his file. ‘Three of your men are dead. I doubt the Department has the necessary strike capability today. Apart from that, I need to get you out of the inevitable media crossfire, not least because of my duty of care. You should know, however, that I have ordered an investigation. The press release is going out tomorrow morning. You have the chance to give a statement.’
Yes, of course. Care is your great speciality.
Demirci stays calm. ‘Holm insists on negotiating exclusively with us. Or more precisely: with Jenny Aaron. That’s a plus. She knows Holm very well.’
‘And I know Miss Aaron,’ Svoboda says. ‘When she was still with the Department she was lucky enough to be protected by your predecessor, otherwise she would have had to leave the service in the first year. She had certain abilities. But patience and skill weren’t among them. Her character is completely unsuited to a negotiation like this. And – dear God – a blind woman.’
Aaron suddenly sees him in front of her: his slack, gluey skin, his baggy cheeks, his manicured bony fingers. He would step over a dying beggar. She remembers this man as well as she remembers Boenisch and Runge.
The desire to speak constricts her chest. But it would compromise Demirci. A pack of cigarettes and a lighter are placed in her hand. She senses Demirci’s self-control, lowers her pulse rate, takes the first drag.
‘Miss Aaron enjoys my complete trust,’ Demirci replies. ‘She is advising me. Her analysis is extremely valuable. I couldn’t imagine better.’
Svoboda spreads his words as a peacock spreads its feathers. ‘Sometimes there’s a lack of imagination. So: what’s your strategy?’
‘I’ve had Holm’s brother fetched from prison. He will get here shortly. We will try to make him give up. I haven’t raised my hopes. Everything depends on the demands being met.’
‘Five million Euros is completely out of the
question.’
‘Senator, please: Holm will stop at nothing. If we try to get clever, he’ll kill the hostages.’
‘Half a million and no more.’
Aaron wishes she could knock Svoboda’s complacency out of him, the shrug with which he sets the price for umpteen human lives. The door opens quietly. Helmchen whispers something in Demirci’s ear. Aaron can only make out the words: ‘Two – before.’ Helmchen leaves them alone again.
Demirci’s voice is thick. ‘I’ve just learned that the corpses of a couple have been found in a flat on Leipziger Strasse. Both victims had their necks broken. Directly opposite the flat is the hotel room where Jenny Aaron was staying. We have to assume that Holm killed the couple. Presumably last night.’
The ceiling crashes down on to Aaron’s shoulders. Demirci stands on the rubble making a phone call. ‘He has killed six people since yesterday. Thirty more will mean nothing to him. We need that money. Right now.’
‘I said no,’ Svoboda snaps. ‘It’s a complex situation with a very particular dynamic. Are you overstretched?’
Aaron pushes against the enormous burden on her back. She gestures to Demirci that she needs to talk to Svoboda.
‘One moment,’ Demirci says.
She opens the door, waits for a moment and closes it again.
‘Senator, I asked Miss Aaron to do this.’ A dramatic pause. ‘Miss Aaron, do you think there’s a chance that we might adapt Holm’s conditions to our own possibilities?’
‘The release of his brother and the five million Euros aren’t negotiable,’ she says. ‘They’re both a sine qua non.’
‘You’re eloquent, I’ll give you that,’ Svoboda says. ‘But your complacency throws up the question of why you of all people should negotiate with him.’
‘It was his choice.’
‘Maybe because he saw you as a pushover.’
Aaron hesitates only very briefly. ‘We know each other. I’m sure you remember our last meeting.’
‘Should I?’
‘Certainly I should. You were Secretary of State for the Interior at the time. A colleague and I were on an undercover mission in Naples. They insisted that we go to Berlin and give you a report in person before our crucial meeting with the head of the Mazzarella clan. You were told that it would endanger the operation, but you didn’t care. When we got back to Naples an attempt was made on my life. It turned out later that the clan had been watching us, and our cover had been blown by our flight to Berlin. The Internal Affairs report confirmed in great detail your responsibility for what happened. But it was kept secret. The fact that the Federal Minister of the Interior was a fellow party member may have had something to do with it.’
‘How dare you? Miss Demirci, I would like to speak with you alone.’
‘Just as it never reached the public,’ Aaron continues unmoved, ‘that the German branch of the clan tapped your phone and were therefore extremely well informed.’
‘This conversation is closed.’
‘Not entirely. I took the liberty of copying the report. You decide whether I pass it on to the press or whether five million Euros will turn up at the Department in no more than an hour. In used fifties and hundreds. You just have to call the Finance Senator. You’re eloquent, after all.’
There’s a click. Svoboda has hung up.
Demirci takes the pack of cigarettes out of Aaron’s hand and lights one. Aaron smokes too. She taps her watch. The computer voice says: ‘Seventh of January. Thursday. Ten a.m., twenty minutes, three seconds.’
Eighty minutes until Holm’s ultimatum runs out.
‘Now we have a common enemy,’ Demirci says.
‘Would you rather have that bastard as your friend?’
Demirci’s voice falters. ‘Do you really have a copy? I’m just asking because my career depends on it.’
‘No. But your predecessor does. I’m sure he’d be delighted to fax it to me from Sweden.’
At that moment Aaron sees herself leaving the terminal in Schönefeld with Niko. Children are shouting by a bus, a Scandinavian language.
A snowball rolls down an aeroplane.
Aaron walks to the exit with a bag of hot chestnuts.
The children watch sadly after her.
‘We’re looking for a bus with a school class from Scandinavia. I don’t know which country. The bus is probably from Berlin.’
‘What makes you think that?’ Demirci asks, surprised.
‘If I tell you, you won’t take it seriously. Let’s just leave it there.’
Demirci presses the speech button and passes the phone to Helmchen. Again a helicopter flies over the house. ‘We can give Svoboda one more minute. If he hasn’t called by then I’ll clear my desk.’
‘He’ll call. He knows I’m not bluffing.’
‘What makes you so sure?’
For the first time in her life she says: ‘I’m Jörg Aaron’s daughter.’
The phone in the waiting room rings.
‘My predecessor gave me exactly the same advice.’
‘What was that?’
‘Only ever to address the men by their surnames. But I can’t bring myself to do it.’
‘That was yesterday. I like your style today.’
‘Are you still in touch with him?’ Demirci asks.
‘We speak on the phone from time to time.’
‘How are things going for him in Sweden?’
‘He catches big fish.’
‘Say hello from me.’
The door opens. Helmchen: ‘The money’s on the way.’
Two people sigh.
‘And Sascha is here.’
18
They turned up in a group of six and didn’t say a word. He saw their rage and laughed at what they were thinking. They blindfolded him and cuffed his wrists and ankles, but he enjoyed it and didn’t feel the cold of the metal. They drove quickly, and he knew why. They pushed him into a lift and dragged him down corridors in chains, and never had his feet felt so light. Many doors had closed behind him during those five years. He had hated them all. But this one was worth it.
Because she is sitting behind it.
He is pushed into a chair and his blindfold is removed.
Disappointment rises up in him like bile. He wants to jump over the table and kill Aaron straight away.
She looks him in the eyes.
A thousand times Sascha has imagined how it would be. She always stared past him. The urge to touch the scar on his neck is as powerful as if he’d been underwater for two minutes and suddenly needed to breathe. But he doesn’t want to give the man leaning against the wall and the others standing behind him that pleasure. He concentrates on Aaron’s swollen cheekbone. Sascha has no doubt that it was his brother who did that. He beat and humiliated Aaron, and Sascha wished he could have been there.
But the best thing, the best thing of all, is that she thinks he’s in her power.
That she thinks she’s safe.
He leans back, folds his arms casually behind his head and says: ‘I can see something you can’t.’
Aaron was waiting for Token-Eyes in the interrogation room, so that he couldn’t laugh at her feeling for her chair. She knows Pavlik is there. Still, she will question him on her own, that’s how they said they were going to go about it. But his very presence helps her. Token-Eyes’ voice echoes inside her. It’s scornful, scathing, angry. And yet it sounds like the voice of a child sulking under the Christmas tree because it didn’t get the present it really wanted.
‘I had you brought here because your brother is in Berlin. Do you know where he’s staying?’
He laughs. ‘Blind, and stupid too.’
‘If you cooperate, we could talk about reducing your sentence.’
‘I’m never going back to jail.’
‘Mr Holm, you seem to think we’re going to let you go. That’s ridiculous.’
‘Right, so you’ve just taken me for a little drive?’
‘I’ve told you why
you’re here.’
‘I’m here because my brother fucks you over whenever and wherever he wants. What’s that you have below your eye, you bitch? Did you take a tumble?’
‘He’s holed up with two hostages in a flat near the prison. But that needn’t be a problem for us.’
Token-Eyes giggles. ‘Wow. Has he killed all the others already? And how did he get the coach into the flat?’
Shit.
Aaron waits a moment to relax her vocal cords without showing her tension. ‘We assume that your brother has observed your transport. We want to lull him into a false sense of security. We just need some time. And you will be helpful to us in that.’
‘Blind, stupid, dishonest. Give me a cigarette, you piece of shit.’
‘We’ll free the hostages and probably kill your brother. Do you want to die too?’
‘Are you threatening to shoot me? And where my brother is concerned: he killed three of your men. As if he was scratching his balls.’
Aaron sees herself shooting Token-Eyes in the neck. That helps calm her down. ‘You’re not in a Spanish jail now. You’ve got another twelve years in Germany. Then you might be released.’
‘Blind, stupid, dishonest and desperate.’
‘That’s still better than life meaning life.’
‘You’re the one who’s got life, not me. As far as I’m concerned you can add fifteen years for the ones I had fun with. And could somebody open the window? You stink of Boenisch’s basement. Revolting.’
He’s admitting to the murder of Melanie Breuer just like that.
Any second attempt is a waste of time.
‘I’m supposed to give you something from him. Maybe that bored cop standing against the wall over there would like to reach into my right trouser pocket. No rummaging, though.’
Aaron nods to Pavlik. Token-Eyes gets to his feet. The rub of fabric. He sits down again. Pavlik puts something in her hand. She feels it and looks indifferently at Token-Eyes.
‘Oops, almost forgot: I promised the sick fuck I would tell him how I killed you. And I always keep a promise.’
In the Dark Page 18
