by Val McDermid
M: You think it will work?
P: i think it’s the only way to cover our backs. once it’s out in the open, it’ll take them weeks to set up a proper task force because nobody will want to give up jurisdiction, and they’ll all be fighting over which country is the lead investigator. meanwhile, we can get on with our own investigation. jordan is going to ask her dr hill to do a profile for us, so we will have a head start. we still have a chance to do ourselves a big favour here, but nobody can point the finger at us for doing anything we shouldn’t have.
M: I suppose it makes sense. But it won’t be easy to persuade Maartens to look to Europol for help. He has very old-fashioned ideas about organization. He’s against anything that takes police work off the streets and into the office.
P: so you have to make it look like there’s something in it for him. maybe he’d like the glory of being the first person to spot that there might be a serial killer out there? because it’ll be his name on the report, not yours, right?
M: Good idea. He could make it look like a triumph for traditional police work, if I persuade him right. I’ll try in the morning.
P: let me know how it goes.
M: Tomorrow night?
P: i’ll try. make it late, though. midnight. if everything goes right, jordan will be working late, which means i might have to as well. sleep well, babe.
M: Slaap ze, liefje. Tot ziens.
Tadeusz Radecki excused himself from the restaurant table when he saw that the number calling his mobile phone belonged to Darko Krasic. In the passage leading to the toilets, out of earshot of his respectable companions, he answered its insistent chirrup. ‘Yes?’
‘When will you be home, boss?’ Krasic asked. ‘I’ve got some news for you.’
‘Good or bad?’
‘It’s nothing that needs urgent action.’
‘Won’t it wait till tomorrow?’
‘I think you’ll want to know this.’
Tadeusz looked at his watch. ‘Meet me there in an hour.’
‘OK. See you then.’ Krasic ended the call and Tadeusz walked back into the noisy restaurant. They were already at the coffee stage, so the party would be breaking up within the half-hour anyway. And since he had no intention of offering to escort home the single woman his four comfortably coupled friends had invited along for his benefit, there would be no problem in getting back home within the hour. Darko had sounded very enigmatic on the phone. But wondering about something he couldn’t guess at was a waste of energy, and Tadeusz had never been inclined to worry about anything before he had to. He joined in the conversation round the table as if his call had been of supreme unimportance, but precisely thirty minutes later, he pushed back his chair and announced that he had an early start in the morning. He dropped a sheaf of banknotes on the table to cover his share of the bill, kissed all three women on both cheeks, hugged his male friends and left.
The familiar black Mercedes was sitting outside his apartment building when he turned the corner into the street. As Tadeusz approached the front door, Krasic emerged from the car and fell into step beside him. ‘So, what’s this mysterious news?’ Tadeusz asked as they entered the lift.
‘It’ll keep for a few minutes longer,’ Krasic said.
Tadeusz laughed. ‘You are so cautious, Darko. I promise you, this lift isn’t bugged.’
‘It’s not that. You might want a drink when you hear what I have to tell you.’
Tadeusz raised his eyebrows, but said nothing more until they were both inside his apartment. He poured two glasses of Armagnac and handed one to Krasic. ‘Now, tell me what it is that is so terrible I need a brandy before I can hear it.’
Krasic looked less than his usual imperturbable self. ‘It’s bloody strange, that’s what it is.’ He walked over to a set of shelves where three photographs of Katerina were displayed in silver frames. ‘I finally managed to get some information about the motorbike.’
Tadeusz experienced a convulsion in his stomach, a strange turbulence that seemed to rearrange his internal organs. Whatever he’d been expecting, it wasn’t this. ‘You have a name?’
‘No, nothing that straightforward. Our man went back and talked again to the teenage boy who recognized the bike as a BMW. The kid was really enthusiastic. He kept offering to have hypnosis, to see if he could come up with any more details.’
‘And?’
‘It took a little while to get the session organized, but eventually, he got some woman to come along and put the boy into a trance. And the kid came up with quite a bit more detail.’
‘Such as?’ Tadeusz was leaning forward now, eager as a hound with a scent in his nostrils.
‘Like, he noticed that you couldn’t read the number plate because it was all smudged with mud. He said there was something funny about the number plate. He couldn’t be any more clear than that, but he was very definite that there was something wrong.’ Krasic turned away from the images of Katerina and sat down on the sofa. ‘And he was able to describe the bike much better than he had before. Stuff like the shape of the exhausts, that sort of bollocks. Anyway, our man wrote it all down. Then he got on to BMW and asked what model of bike this matched up with. And this is where it gets very fucking strange.’
Tadeusz drummed his fingers on the wall. ‘Strange how?’
‘According to BMW, the description our man gave them didn’t fit any bike they’ve ever made for sale in Germany. So, our man thinks it’s all been a fucking total waste of time, getting this kid under the influence and picking his brain. Then the man from BMW calls him back.’
‘Christ, Darko, get on with it,’ Tadeusz growled.
‘All right, all right, I’m getting there. The BMW guy had gone and checked with their special projects people and it turns out they did once make a bike that fits the description. It was a limited edition of three hundred and fifty high-performance bikes. Export only. They sold it in the UK and Scandinavia. And get this – almost all the bikes were sold to law enforcement. For traffic cops and special ops.’
Tadeusz looked bewildered. ‘What? That doesn’t make any sense.’
‘That’s what our man said. He asked them how come an export-only bike was involved in an accident in Berlin. They didn’t have a clue, but they gave him all the details of the bike. And when he ran it through vehicle registration, it turns out there isn’t a single fucking bike with this spec registered in Germany.’
‘So you’re saying that whoever killed Katerina, chances are they did it on a foreign police bike?’ Tadeusz took a deep swig of his brandy and paced the floor. This is insane. ‘It makes no sense at all.’
Darko shrugged. ‘I don’t know. I’ve had longer to think about it than you have, and there is one explanation that sort of fits the facts. You know how these fucking motorbike cowboys get about their machines. It’s like they’re joined at the hip. You can imagine one of them deciding to take his undercover traffic bike on a little holiday. So, let’s say for the sake of argument that it’s a Brit. For a split second, he forgets he’s driving on the wrong side of the road, he causes a major accident and he goes into total fucking panic and just steps on the gas. I mean, he’s not even supposed to have the bike over here, and now he’s fucked somebody up big time. Of course he’s going to leg it fast as he can.’
‘And you think that makes sense?’ Tadeusz demanded belligerently.
Krasic shifted in his seat, spreading his overcoat wide and splaying his meaty thighs, maximizing his physical impact to cover his uncertainty. ‘I can’t think of any other explanation.’
‘Neither can I. And that’s what I don’t like.’ He slammed the flat of his hand against the wall. ‘It’s bullshit, however you look at it.’
‘Tadzio, it was an accident. They happen all the time. You’re just going to have to let it go.’
Tadeusz whirled round, his face a rictus of anger. ‘Fuck that. Whether it was an accident or not, somebody should pay.’
‘You’ll get no argument from me o
n that. And if there was any chance of finding out who was riding that bike, I’d be the first in there, making the bastard pay. But he’s out of our reach.’
Suddenly, all the fight went out of Tadeusz. He crumpled into a chair, head lolling back. A single tear gathered in the corner of one eye and slithered down his temple. Krasic got to his feet, awkward in the face of emotion. ‘I’m sorry, Tadzio,’ he said gruffly.
Tadeusz rubbed the tear away with the heel of his hand. ‘You did your best, Darko,’ he said. ‘You’re right. It’s time to let go. Time to move forward.’ He managed a faint smile. ‘I’ll see you tomorrow. It’s time I started thinking about the future.’
Though it pained Krasic to see his boss hurting, he walked out of the apartment with a spring in his step. It looked as though they could finally start concentrating on business again. He had one or two ideas of his own, and he guessed that the time would soon be ripe to broach them. If there was a niggle of concern at the back of his mind about the mysterious identity of the bike that had caused Katerina’s death, he wasn’t going to think about it now. Paranoia was for the weak, and Krasic knew he wasn’t one of them.
21
Tony walked through the arrivals gate at Tegel Airport, scanning the meeters and greeters. Over to one side, he saw a tall, slim woman with spiky black hair holding a small placard that read, ‘Hill.’ He moved towards her, a tentative smile on his face. ‘Petra Becker?’ he asked.
She extended a hand and they shook. ‘Dr Hill. It’s a pleasure to meet you.’
‘Tony please,’ he said. ‘Thanks for coming out here to fetch me.’
‘Not a problem. You saved me having to listen to one of my colleagues complaining that I gave him the impossible task of tracking down a missing six-year-old.’
He raised his eyebrows in a question. ‘I didn’t think that was your kind of case.’
Petra chuckled. ‘It’s not normally. This particular six-year-old is being held hostage by Carol’s friend Radecki against her mother’s good behaviour. And I want her mother’s co-operation, so I have to find the child. But you don’t need to think about that. You’ve got more important things to deal with. Anything I can do to help, just ask.’
She’d already done plenty, he thought, as he followed her to her car. After reading Carol’s e-mail, he’d booked himself on the first flight to Berlin, told his departmental secretary there had been a sudden death in the family and that he was taking compassionate leave as of now. He knew he couldn’t call Carol, but he had Petra Becker’s name and he knew she worked for Criminal Intelligence. A few phone calls had tracked her down, and she had reacted with delight to the news that he was coming to Germany. He hadn’t bothered to explain the reason for his sudden decision; he didn’t want her changing her mind about having him on board because he had too close a relationship to one of the victims.
‘I’ll need somewhere to stay,’ he had told Petra. ‘It’d be helpful if you can book me into the same place as Carol. I know she’s probably being followed, so it’s important that there’s somewhere we can meet where we’re not going to be spotted. If we’re in the same building, it should be easier for us both.’
As they left the airport behind, Petra said, ‘I managed to get you an apartment in Carol’s building. You’re a couple of floors below her, but it’s easy to come and go without anyone seeing you.’
‘Thanks,’ he said. ‘I understand you two are meeting in a women’s health club to do your debriefs?’
‘That’s right. I’m afraid you won’t be able to join us there,’ Petra said with a grin.
‘No, but I can see Carol in the apartment block, and I can presumably meet you at your office? I’m going to need access to all the case materials that you can get for me, so that would probably be the best place.’
Petra pulled a face. ‘That might be a bit of a problem, Tony. You see, officially I’m not supposed to have anything to do with the serial killer cases yet. So if you show up at the office, my boss is going to ask some very difficult questions. How would you feel about working in my apartment? It’s quite civilized, really. All the materials I have are there anyway.’
‘That’s fine by me, as long as you don’t mind having me under your feet. I tend to work quite long hours. And I’m eager to get moving on this profile right away.’
‘I have the case information from Heidelberg and Leiden. And I’ve sent Bremen a request for their investigation reports, so we should have some material from them soon. I told them I believed their case might connect to one of our on-going investigations. I think they were quite relieved at the idea of sharing the load. They’re a small force, they don’t have much experience with anything out of the ordinary.’
‘Good. I need as much information as I can get.’
‘I’m glad we tempted you out of retirement.’ He gave her a quick sideways glance. If she was sufficiently driven by her ambition to be operating outside the rules, he didn’t think she would mind that he too was bringing his own agenda to this case. ‘It was more than that. I knew Margarethe Schilling.’
‘Shit,’ Petra said. ‘I’m sorry. Carol didn’t tell me.’
‘Carol doesn’t know. Did you get the chance to tell her I’m on my way?’ he added, wanting to move away from the painful subject of Margarethe’s death.
‘I hope you don’t mind, but I didn’t tell her yet. She has her first encounter with Radecki this evening, and it’s important she stays focused on that.’
‘You’re right. Hopefully we can link up tomorrow morning.’
‘She’ll be pleased to see you. She speaks very highly of you.’
‘I’ll be pleased to see her, too.’
‘It’s good for her that she has someone around to anchor her into her real life,’ Petra said, swerving to avoid someone trying to cut in front of her. ‘Asshole,’ she muttered.
‘As long as I don’t pull her out of character too much,’ he said.
‘I’m more concerned with her getting stuck in Caroline Jackson. Radecki’s a charming bastard. That’s hard to resist when you’re feeling isolated. I think having you around will help her with that.’
‘I hope so. And her insights will be valuable to me when it comes to drawing up my profile too. She’s got a very unusual mind. She comes at things from odd tangents, sees things I don’t always see.’
‘When will you start work?’
‘As soon as possible. If it’s all right with you, I’ll drop my bags off and maybe you can take me back to your place?’
‘OK. I’ll give you a key so you can come and go as you please. Don’t worry about disturbing me. I’m hardly ever there and I sleep like the dead.’ Petra turned off the Ku’damm into the quiet side street with the apartment complex. ‘Here we are. Let me give you a hand.’
He followed Petra into the small concierge office next to the main entrance. She dealt with his registration, then led him through to the entrance hall. ‘You’re on the first floor. Carol is two floors above you, in 302. I’ll wait here for you while you drop your things off.’
Tony nodded and pressed the call button for the lift. He’d burned his bridges this time. For too long, he’d been telling himself he could be a chameleon, taking on the colouring of his surroundings, fitting in with other lives because in truth he had no fixed points in his own life. But it was slowly dawning on him that he’d been lying to himself. There was a core that was uniquely Tony Hill. And the harder he tried to escape its clutches, the stronger its grip became. Forget blandness, forget conventionality. This was who he was: the hunter, sniffing the air for the delicate scent of his prey. He was back where he belonged, and it felt wonderful.
Carol was alive to the ironies of the opera she was watching from the back of the stalls at the Berlin Staatsoper. Janácek’s Das Schlaue Füchslein, The Cunning Little Vixen. The drama that might have distracted her if a different opera had been before her served only to hammer home the dangers of her mission. The first act unfolded before her; the gameke
eper’s capture of the little vixen; her defence against the dog’s sexual advances and the tormenting of the children; her tempting of the hens into her ambit; her slaughter of the hens and her escape before retribution could be visited on her.
I’m the cunning little vixen, Carol thought. She would allow Tadeusz Radecki to think he’d brought her into his camp at his command. She would resist any attempts to bait her into revealing her true nature; she suspected she would have to find a way to keep Radecki at arm’s length. Then she would sneak into his henhouse, bring his chickens home to roost and get out from under before he could make her pay the price.
As the finale of the act approached, bringing its confrontation between the vixen and her human captors, Carol slipped out of her aisle seat and made her way out of the auditorium. Her heart was racing, her stomach a knot of pain. In spite of the lightweight material of the midnight blue silk sheath she was wearing, she could feel sweat gathering in the hollow of her back. Adrenaline coursed through her. Behind her, applause broke out. It was now or never, she told herself as she headed for the stairs that would take her up to the private boxes. Left-hand side, just as Petra had told her.
Petra had done her homework. According to her, Radecki had recently begun to visit the opera again. He was always alone in his box, remaining confined during the intervals, avoiding mixing with any of his friends or contacts in the audience. He never went to the bars, instead preferring to sip champagne delivered ahead of the performance by one of the opera house staff. ‘It’s a dramatic place to stage your first encounter,’ Petra had said. ‘He always went to the opera with Katerina, so he will already be focused on her memory.’ Tony had agreed that, psychologically, it would be a powerful moment that Carol could exploit. Taken so completely off his guard, Radecki would be more vulnerable to her appearance than in any business context.
