‘Very well,’ he said in a voice like grating steel, ‘but once the prosecutor issues the arrest warrant, I look forward to pursuing our conversation.’
*
Back at the legation, after thanking Sharp Nose and agreeing to meet in an hour to go through everything, I went straight down to the comms room and dialled Plico. His terminal was busy. Asking me to please stop pacing around her office as if I were a wolf stalking prey, the duty signals officer handed me a mug of strong tea and suggested I sat down to wait. Ten minutes later, the terminal pinged and Plico’s face appeared.
‘I heard.’ His voice was leaden. ‘Galba’s messaged me the short version.’
‘Galba?’
‘The lawyer you call Sharp Nose. Are you asleep or something?’
‘She’s never given me her name.’
He looked away for a moment.
‘I didn’t do it, Plico, if you’re wondering.’
‘No, I don’t see you as a mad axewoman. You’re more the pressed windpipe type.’
‘Thanks so much.’
‘Don’t use that snotty tone with me and don’t use it in the cooler or you’ll get beaten up.’
‘Is it that bad?’
‘The reason Galba got that temporary release, and so quickly, was because I persuaded our justice minister to telephone her opposite number in the Prussian government. We promised you wouldn’t leave the legation and you’d voluntarily surrender if they formally arrested you.’
‘What!’ I shrieked. ‘Mars’ balls, Plico, if you hadn’t sent me that message at the airport, I would have been on that plane and home by now, safe with my daughter.’
‘If you’d gone straight to the legation, you wouldn’t be in the shit you’re in.’
‘Really? It sounds as if I’d be in it anyway.’
‘True. They’d only apply for extradition. Which, although it’s not technically “undiplomatic”, we’d have a hard job defending.’ He looked at me steadily.
‘You know it’s Caius behind this?’ I said.
‘How can he be? He’s in jail.’
‘Yes, now he is, but what in Hades was he doing at Grosschenk’s house that took so long he got caught? And don’t tell me he was only burning paper. He’d do anything to sink me.’
‘Is it that bad between you?’
‘Yes.’ Plico didn’t need to know all the back history, but I was starting to become frightened. ‘That police director, he knew. When he asked me to translate that note, he knew exactly what it said.’
‘Then they have something else. We’ll find out when the public prosecutor discloses the evidence. You’d better pack a toothbrush. They’ll be back for you tomorrow.’
XV
‘Is that strictly necessary?’ Galba, alias Sharp Nose, asked as Scholz nodded at the uniformed Schupo to handcuff me. As the cold metal slipped over my wrists, I shivered.
‘She’s being arrested for direct murder – it’s regulations.’
Scholz and two uniforms had arrived at the legation front entrance at 08.30 that morning, Scholz clutching the arrest warrant. Evidently, they’d been able to convince the public prosecutor there was enough evidence to detain me. Galba and I had been ready since 08.00, sitting in the public area. I’d dressed in practical neutrals and packed some essentials in a small case. Fabia and another Praetorian hovered nearby in fatigues, not their normal indoor service uniform. I sighed mentally; she could look as tough as she pleased, but it wasn’t going to change anything.
A green and silver police car waited outside, watched by the two Praetorians patrolling the driveway between the building and street. Parked behind it was a legation car and driver for Galba.
I flicked my fingers at Fabia to press the door release. She looked at me, pleading.
‘Steady, Fabia,’ I murmured.
We stood and Scholz served the custody order on me which I handed to Galba without taking my gaze off his face. Nor did I look away while he cuffed me until he took me by the arm and led me out to the car.
We drove round to the side of the grey concrete and glass police building. A studded steel gate slid open barely enough to let the vehicle through. One of the uniforms took me through a barred gate to the registration desk. The eyes of the custody sergeant wore exactly the same bored expression as the PGSF one at home. And the smell of instant coffee, sweat and stale air was the same. I nearly smiled, but willed myself to remain detached. For all intents and purposes I was in hostile territory in enemy hands. Preserving my inner core and keeping outer calm were essential.
After being released from the handcuffs, undergoing the most cursory medical examination and the most thorough search I’d ever had, I was allowed to dress, even to keep my watch. I’d left my usual rings and earrings locked in my luggage at the legation.
Juno knew how frightening this cold, detached handling would be for an ordinary person. A policewoman and her male colleague took me to an interview room and pushed me down on to one of the chairs. He left and she took up position by the door, folded her hands behind her and painted a cold expression on her face. On the wall facing me was the expected mirror through which they watched. If they followed standard technique, they’d wait for ten minutes to unsettle me. I folded my hands in my lap and closed my eyes, feigning sleep.
I’d counted to a shade under six minutes when I heard the door open.
Scholz was accompanied by two other men, both in suits, the older one in high quality grey wool, plus beautifully polished English brogues, the younger in chain-store from head to foot plus a dark brown handlebar moustache and sideburns. While the younger one unpacked recording equipment from a cardboard box and fiddled around with cables and microphones, Scholz and the other man sat down opposite me.
‘This is Herr Kästner from the Public Prosecutor’s Office,’ Scholz began. ‘You will answer his questions, please.’
The older man looked at me gravely, but said nothing. His silver hair was neat, his face square. He was unremarkable, but solid. He opened a small leather case and perched a pair of gold half-glasses on his nose and opened his file. He started asking routine questions, but I said nothing. After five minutes, he paused.
‘Why are you not answering my questions? Your silence could damage your case.’
‘I’m sure you’ll forgive me, but you know I can’t answer any questions without my lawyer present. And I’m equally sure you don’t want to waste any more of your time talking to yourself.’ I gave him my most charming smile. He glanced at Scholz who glowered at me. What in Hades did he expect? That I’d roll over and play dead?
‘These are purely preliminary administrative questions, Frau Mitela. I’m sure we don’t need to bother counsel for the moment.’
‘Oh, I think we do, Herr Kästner, or we are going no further.’
‘I don’t understand. Detective Scholz assured me you had waived the presence of a lawyer for the preliminary session.’
‘Oh, really?’ I bit back, my voice so cold I nearly froze myself. ‘Could I see this waiver?’
Kästner searched through the papers in his file while I took some quiet breaths to calm down. Scholz sat hunched over, stone-still. After a minute of rustling paper, the prosecutor turned his gaze on the detective.
‘Well, Scholz, where is it?’
Scholz mumbled something, stomped out and slammed the door behind him. Five minutes later, he came back with the personification of the Furies in the shape of Galba.
*
Kästner was right, the questions were routine, but Galba fought every one, even insisting they put my title in my name. I’d never said ‘No comment’ so many times. She demanded a break with sandwiches and coffee, and privacy for a client consultation. Under some papers, she slid a scrambler on to the table.
‘Optio Fabia gave me this. I wouldn’t trust this lot to walk across the room, let alone not listen in.’ She spoke in a very strong southern Castra Lucillan accent, just in case they could. That suited me; I’d been born o
n our estate there and could talk bucolic along with the rest of them.
‘I’ll serve notice on them for violation of procedure for a start. That was a stupid trick that cop pulled and it can only help us. Then we’ll go for early full disclosure.’ She glanced at me. ‘There’s something going on here and I don’t know what. Anybody detained by the police must be brought before a judge and charged within twenty-four hours of the arrest, so we’ll be in court tomorrow morning. We should find out more then.’
‘Thanks, Galba, I appreciate your help. But try not to wind the prosecution up too far.’
‘Well, the misogynistic bastards deserve all they get.’ Then she did something miraculous – she grinned.
*
The prison van that collected me had high windows so I only knew we’d arrived at the remand centre by the jolt that nearly threw me off the metal bench in my tiny cell. A grating of metal on concrete – the gate closing – a short drive, then the van lurched to a stop.
The door was flung back on its hinges and a guard jerked his head at me.
‘Komm.’
My file was signed and stamped at the reception desk, and again after another search, and yet again by the doctor after another medical examination. None of them looked at me as a person; I was a mere case number to be processed.
‘This is a remand prison for women and youths,’ the last warder said, ‘but we also take short sentence prisoners. You are not permitted to mix or speak with them.’ She looked down at her precious file. The features on her hard face contracted. ‘You are marked down to be held in a separate cell.’ She sighed. ‘I’ll have to put you in the juvenile wing – we don’t have any spare singles here in the women’s area.’
Curious stares focused on me as I passed through the women’s section. Silence fell as they tracked me. I stared straight ahead, clutched my case and a towel they had given me at reception. Each time the barred gates clanged shut behind me, I felt I had penetrated further into a never-ending lobster pot.
The noise in the juvenile wing was twice the level of that in the women’s wing. The warder pulled open a studded metal door and gestured me to enter. At least the door locked behind me cut most of the noise out. It was only when I was alone, lying on the bed that I started trembling. I looked round at the grey-walled room, narrower than a ship’s cabin; a token barred window, steel washbasin, lavatory pan, chipped plastic-topped table screwed to the floor and plastic chair were the only other furniture apart from the bed. And then there was the smell of strong disinfectant that didn’t quite mask the smell of vomit.
Galba thought she was cheering me up by saying it was only custody, not remand, and would only be for one night. She would work tonight to draw up a watertight surety document that would get me released into the legation’s custody, whatever the charges. As an office-based functionary, she’d never slept on frozen ground near the top of a mountain for days with the wind trying to take your face off or been in hostage training which included playing the victim role. This room was luxury in comparison.
No, I was apprehensive about what lay behind this. I’d dismissed Scholz as a pain in the neck; he simply didn’t like me. But putting me in the frame for Grosschenk’s murder smacked of something far more serious. If convicted, I could be put away for over fifteen, maybe twenty years. I stuffed my hand in my mouth. Marina would be twenty-one when I got out. The tears escaped at last.
*
Next morning after a surprisingly good sleep, I did what I could with my hair and creased clothes. It was important I looked and felt confident before the judge. But as the warder fastened the handcuffs round my wrists, I noticed stains on one sleeve from the splash of gravy caused when one of the catering orderlies had slammed a bowl of stew down on the table the previous evening. Well, I’d enjoy a long soak in a hot bath and a change of clothes back in the legation tonight, and get rid of the smell and the stains.
XVI
Galba was waiting for me in an interview room in the Moabit criminal court. Her severe black tailoring, sleek hair and immaculate make-up made me feel even more unkempt. She glanced at her watch.
‘We’ve got fifteen minutes. Apart from that stupid note which was obviously mischief-making, I don’t know what in Hades they have on you. But somehow Scholz managed to persuade the prosecutor to sign that arrest order.’ I stared down at the table, almost numb. If Caius was behind it, he would have been thorough. All my life he’d always been one step ahead of me.
‘It’s only a preliminary hearing and they’ll only take it further if the judge thinks the evidence is good enough to take it to trial. You were incapacitated for most of the time after you escaped from Grosschenk’s house. I’ve got the doctor’s report from the Unfallkrankenhaus and I’ll call him if necessary. Scholz is off the case, so we can slate him for prejudice. We’ll be out in thirty minutes. Then they can start looking for the real killer.’
We were three hours. Prosecutor Kästner explained about the note found in the mouth of Grosschenk’s severed head, quoting my comments and that the paper was the type used by Roma Nova armed forces. I jerked my head up at that. How in Hades had he found that out? Then, while praising my courage and bravery in escaping from Grosschenk’s house, he turned it round, and referring to what he implied was my military record in his hand, made me sound as if I were a trained assassin. Next, he outlined my very understandable motivation – Grosschenk had tried to kill me.
Photos of Grosschenk’s bloody head and part-burned body were passed round. One of the assistant judges shot me such a look of contempt and loathing, I shrank under the power of it. How dared he? I hadn’t been convicted, but they already had me serving life. Galba sneered in a legal fashion dismissing everything as circumstantial. Then Kästner gave a little smile and held up a small plastic bag with a gold and blue gemstone drop earring.
Merda.
‘This was found a metre from the body. I have confirmation from the photograph taken at the time by the Unfallkrankenhaus that Aurelia Gräfin Mitela was wearing an earring of this design when she was admitted. But only one.’
‘Objection. How is that relevant? You’re implying my client lost the earring in the forest hut on the night of the assault on my client. She was incapacitated by a broken foot, and fully occupied fleeing from two men intent on killing her. The recording, although not then transmitting in real time, tracks her from the house down the drive to the gate where she was recovered by the backup team. If the earring was found in the forest hut, then it was not taken there by my client. I leave you to speculate how it got there.’
‘The victim was killed in a particularly savage way,’ Kästner panned around the room posturing as if he were a stage actor in his greatest role. ‘The perpetrator must have caused severe physical pain and mental anguish to the victim at the time. I would remind the court that decapitation and body burning are traditional Roman forms of execution.’
The bastard! Galba was on her feet the instant I was. Two hands from behind me thrust me back down and one of the prison warders clamped her fingers round my wrist.
It was Caius. I knew beyond doubt then it was Caius who had killed Grosschenk.
Then Kästner produced an axe on which they’d found traces of blood. It was a wood axe, the sort you’d find on any farm; I’d used one myself on occasion at Castra Lucilla.
‘This is not a particularly difficult tool to use and certainly not beyond the ability of a trained and physically fit woman like the accused.’
By now, the judge was waving Galba down automatically, but she had her turn after the prosecutor had finished.
‘As we have seen, it was impossible for my client to have done anything the night of the attack beyond surviving the murderous assault on her. She was hospitalised and has been convalescing since then. Although the breaks in her foot have healed well and she has regained full use, she is still undergoing physiotherapy. While waiting to testify in the case against Caius Tellus, convicted only recently for criminal consp
iracy and smuggling, she has been working in the Roma Nova legation on light desk duties with only short exercise times outside. She has thus had no opportunity to perform such a killing.’
She looked straight into the judge’s eyes.
‘And I would remind the court that Aurelia Gräfin Mitela was not the only Roma Novan in that house that night.’
‘But she was the only one at liberty as well as being capable of carrying out that killing,’ Kästner interrupted, ‘And, of course, there is that hubristic note and her sudden departure after Tellus’s trial. Moreover, because of the cold conditions in the forest hut, the victim’s time of death has not been established. It could easily have taken place anytime during the weeks after the night she was abducted.’
Galba flicked her hand in the direction of her files. ‘We can easily file a statement of Aurelia Gräfin Mitela’s movements since the day she left hospital which will clear her. If the court pleases,’ she added hastily.
Silence dropped and we waited while the judge scribbled notes.
‘Obviously, there is still more to discover in this matter,’ he said at last. ‘I am not convinced there is enough corroborated evidence to go to trial. We will re-examine in four weeks.’
Galba smiled at me and mouthed, ‘You’re out.’
‘However, because of the seriousness of the crime, the skills and abilities of the accused and likelihood of flight,’ he continued, ‘I am remanding the accused in formal pre-trial custody.’
*
After they took a photograph of me holding a number board, they handed me a prisoner uniform in exchange for my clothes and thrust two sheets of typed regulations and a towel into my hand. I followed a warder into the women’s wing. She led me across a circular hallway with groups of easy chairs, through a barred gate labelled Untersuchungshaft to the end of a short corridor, through another gate into an open space with easy chairs and two plastic-topped tables and metal-legged dining chairs. She stopped outside one of the six half-open doors leading off the area and pointed to the top bunk bed in a shared cell.
AURELIA (Roma Nova Book 4) Page 13
