‘No such luck,’ Scholz had said gloomily. ‘It’s about our Karneval float for Rose Monday. They’re after my head because the finishing of the float and costumes is so far behind schedule.’
Fabel walked into town from his hotel and climbed the cathedral steps above the Bahnhofsvorplatz, the main square that sat between Cologne Cathedral and the city’s central railway station. Ahead of him was the Collonaden shopping mall attached to the station. The winter sun was knife-sharp in the cold air and scarf-muffled crowds milled around the square. This was the heart of the city. It had been for nearly two thousand years and the concentric circles of Cologne’s main thoroughfares radiated from it like ripples in a pond. Maria was out there somewhere on some half-baked revenge mission. She was here to catch up with Vitrenko. The chances were that she would. And that he would kill her.
He had only been waiting for ten minutes when a tall man with greying hair approached him. Fabel noticed that Ullrich Wagner was much more casually dressed than he had been the last time they had met, in van Heiden’s office in Hamburg.
‘I see you got my message,’ said Fabel. ‘I’m glad you could come.’
‘After what you told me on the phone the other day, I could hardly not come.’ Wagner looked up at the dark mass of the cathedral. One of the spires was encased in scaffolding that looked toothpick-fragile compared to the spire’s mass. ‘There’s always scaffolding somewhere on it… it took three hundred years to build and it looks like it’ll take an eternity to repair.’ He smiled. ‘I must say it’s very Graham Greene
… meeting at the cathedral and everything.’
‘I didn’t want to meet at the Police Presidium. I’m working this Karneval case with Benni Scholz. I didn’t want, well… to confuse things. I didn’t have time to head out to BKA headquarters, and you said you would be in Cologne…’
‘Listen, it’s not a problem. By the way, I just wanted to ask you
… your decision… you know, what you said on the phone. Is that your final decision?’
‘Yes…’ Fabel thought back to his phone call to Wagner from his office in Hamburg immediately after he had heard from Dr Minks about Maria’s absence.
‘I have to say, I agree that we have to get Frau Klee out of the picture. Not just because she’s compromising our operation again, but for the sake of her well-being. But I have to be frank, Herr Fabel…’
‘Call me Jan…’ Cologne’s informality seemed to be affecting Fabel.
‘I have to be frank, Jan: I think Frau Klee is finished as a police officer.’
‘Let’s concentrate on saving her life first, then we’ll see about saving her career.’
Fabel had only been in the cathedral once before and as he and Wagner stepped through the double doors into the main body of the building he recalled his previous awe. It had to be one of the most impressive buildings ever built. The vast vaulted space that opened up before them seemed too huge to be sustained in the fabric of the building. For a moment the two men remained silent as they each took in the majesty of the cathedral and its enormous stained-glass windows. On the way in Fabel and Wagner passed a shortish, stocky man with thick sand-coloured hair and a dense bush of moustache. He appeared to be wearing several layers of woollens under his stockman coat. His spectacles were perched on the top of his head and he was peering up, frowning, at one of the detailed stained-glass panels. He had a pen and a thick notebook clutched in one hand and a guidebook in the other.
‘Excuse me…’ He turned and spoke to them in English as they passed. ‘Could you tell me… there is a coat of arms up there. You see
…’
‘It probably signifies one of the wealthy merchant families in Cologne,’ said Fabel.
‘That is the strangest thing,’ said the man, perplexed but smiling. ‘That is quite definitely… absolutely definitely… a rhinoceros… But the guide states here that this panel dates back to the Middle Ages. I thought in Germany you would not know of such things at this time…’
‘Are you Spanish?’ Fabel spoke his mother’s language like a native and had an ear for foreign accents in English.
‘I live in Spain, but I’m Mexican, actually. Paco is my name,’ said the tourist and smiled broadly. ‘I am a writer and such things interest me.’ He shook his head in awe. ‘And this is a most interesting city…’
‘I’m afraid I have no idea. I’m from Hamburg myself…’
‘Maybe it was a family who traded with Africa,’ said Wagner. ‘But Cologne started off as a Roman city and had contacts throughout the Empire. It’s always been a trading centre for the rest of Europe. For the world. But I’m afraid I can’t tell you what the significance of the rhinoceros is.’
‘Thank you, anyway,’ said the tourist.
They were about to walk away when Wagner checked himself. ‘Oh, there is one meaning it might have.’
‘Oh?’
‘There was a lot of symbolism borrowed from pagan times to represent the various aspects of Christ. They were big on bestiaries in the Middle Ages and used exotic animals as symbols for Christ or the resurrection. The Phoenician myth of the phoenix and the image of the pelican were both used to represent the resurrection.’
‘Why the pelican?’ asked Fabel.
‘Back then they thought pelicans ripped open their own chests to deliver their young.’
‘And the rhinoceros?’ asked the tourist.
‘The rhinoceros was a symbol of Christ’s wrath. Righteous vengeance.’
‘Most interesting…’ said the Mexican. ‘Thank you.’
Fabel and Wagner left the tourist still looking up at the stained-glass window, shaking his head in wonder.
‘Impressive…’ said Fabel, with a smile.
‘I was brought up in a very Catholic family,’ said Wagner wryly. ‘A lot of it sticks.’
Fabel and Wagner sat on a pew near where the immense stained-glass window soared high and wide, splashing the floor’s flagstones with puddles of red, green, blue.
‘Amazing, isn’t it?’ said Wagner. ‘Did you know that Cologne Cathedral was the world’s tallest man-made structure until the end of the nineteenth century? It was the Eiffel Tower that replaced it, I think. Or the Washington Monument.’
Fabel nodded. ‘So much stone. No wonder it took three hundred years to build.’
‘This isn’t simply a place of worship: it’s a physical statement. A big statement. Big God and little us.’
‘I take it that despite your Catholic upbringing you’re not the most religious person, Ullrich?’
‘After going through the Vitrenko Dossier it’s pretty easy to believe in the Devil, if not in God.’
‘I’d like a look at the dossier. Would that be possible?’
A cathedral guide in a monk’s habit, with a cash box and a guidebook dispenser strapped to his belt, walked past. The monk paused to ask an American tourist to remove his baseball cap.
‘This is still a place of worship,’ the monk-guide said in English.
‘It’s on strictly controlled release,’ said Wagner after the American and the guide were out of earshot. ‘You have to sign a register to even look at it. But I’ll see what I can do, Jan. However, if you are getting involved in this, we need you to get involved professionally. One renegade Hamburg cop trampling all over this operation is enough.’
‘Fair enough. Were you able to run the checks I asked for?’
Wagner’s expression suggested it had not been an easy task. ‘Hotel Linden off the Konrad-Adenauer-Ufer. She checked in three weeks ago. The nineteenth of January. Stayed a week and checked out on the twenty-sixth. You do know that getting this information was not entirely legal?’
‘You’d make a good spy, Ullrich.’ Fabel smiled. He remembered that the Linden was on the list of hotels that he and Anna had found in Maria’s apartment. ‘Could I have a look at the Vitrenko file tonight?’
‘Tonight?’ Wagner pursed his lips. ‘I’ll see what I can do. I’m not supposed to take
a hard copy out of the office… I’ll come by your hotel about eight.’
‘Thanks. I really appreciate it.’
‘That’s okay, Jan. Just remember what we agreed.’
‘I will,’ said Fabel. ‘See you tonight.’
He watched as Wagner walked towards the west door of the cathedral, past the Mexican tourist who still stood writing notes and studying the stained-glass window detail of a rhinoceros that should not have been there.
4.
Olga Sarapenko spoke to Buslenko on her cellphone while Maria kept her gaze fixed on the monitor screen, focused on the indistinct grainy image of the front door to Molokov’s villa, waiting for Vitrenko to re-emerge.
‘Taras says we’ve to stay put,’ Olga said after she hung up. ‘He’s going over to Lindenthal. It’ll take him at least twenty minutes to get in position. If Vitrenko doesn’t leave before he gets there, Taras will pick up the Lexus and tail it.’
‘Alone. Buslenko’s taking the same risk I did.’
‘Taras knows what he’s doing.’ Olga made an apologetic gesture. ‘Sorry, you know what I mean. He’s specially trained.’
‘So are the people he’s tracking.’ Maria spoke without shifting her attention from the screen.
Olga pulled up a chair next to Maria and they both sat watching the lack of activity. Two guards. One on the door, the other patrolling the house. It seemed an age before Olga’s cellphone rang. The exchange was brief.
‘He’s in position. We have to let him know which way the Lexus turns when it comes out of the gates.’
5.
Fabel ate on the way back to his hotel. He sat in a corner booth on the ground floor cafe-bar of an old brewery close to the cathedral, drinking the traditional Cologne beer which, like the unique dialect of the city, was called Kolsch. Kolsch was always served in the small, narrow, tube-like glasses called Stange and Fabel noticed that as soon as he drained one another was brought without him ordering it. Then he remembered it was a Cologne custom that, unless you placed your drink mat on top of the glass, you would be continually supplied with fresh Kolsch. The way he felt at that moment, Fabel found the arrangement more than satisfactory. He thought about how good it would be to sit in the cosy brewery cafe and get quietly drunk. But of course he wouldn’t. Fabel had never in his life been truly, falling-down drunk. To do so would mean losing control, allowing himself to become subject to the random, the chaotic. A waiter in a long apron appeared and said something completely unintelligible. Fabel stared at him uncomprehendingly then laughed, again remembering Cologne traditions. In a place like this the waiters were called Kobes and spoke in thick Kolsch, usually peppered with colourful phrases. The waiter grinned and repeated his question in High German and Fabel placed his order.
Cologne was so different to Hamburg. Was it possible, Fabel wondered, to change your surroundings and change yourself to suit? If he had been born here, instead of in the North, would he be a different person? The waiter arrived with his meal and a fresh glass of beer and Fabel tried to put it all from his mind. For now.
6.
It had been four hours but Maria had turned down Olga’s offer to take over watching the monitors. It was getting dark and the villa was reduced to a dark geometry broken up by the brightness of the windows. Suddenly two lights came on above the front door, illuminating one of the guards.
‘Tell Buslenko they’re on the move…’ Maria barked at Olga.
The door swung open and Vitrenko’s bodyguard emerged. The Lexus door opened for someone still inside the villa and out of sight. Then a tall dark figure was framed in the bright doorway. Again a shudder of recognition. He might have changed his face, but at this distance some primeval instinct identified a form burned into Maria’s memory. He stopped, his silhouetted head angled. Maria felt ice in her veins: it was as if Vitrenko were looking through the camera, directly at her.
He stepped forward and into the Lexus, out of view.
Maria followed the car as it drifted silently down the drive and out of the gate. ‘They’re turning right.’
The Lexus was gone. Vitrenko was gone.
‘Taras has picked them up,’ said Olga Sarapenko. ‘They’re heading out towards the autobahn. He wants you to help him with the surveillance.’ She tossed Maria a walkie-talkie. ‘Channel three. Taras will guide you in. I’m to man the command post here. I’ll liaise between you and Taras and update you on any developments.’
‘Wouldn’t it be better for you to go?’ asked Maria. She suddenly felt very afraid and ill-equipped to deal with the consequences of catching up with Vitrenko. ‘Aren’t you better trained for this?’
‘I’m just a police officer like you. The difference is that you’re a German police officer. Taras thinks that might be useful if things get complicated.’
‘But I don’t know this city…’
‘We’ve got all the geopositioning kit we need to direct you. Use your own car. You’d better go. Now.’
It was dark, wet and cold. Cologne glittered bleakly in the winter evening. It was a straight drive to Lindenthal through Zollstock and Sulz. The radio lay mute on the passenger seat. After ten minutes and as she approached the Stadtwald park, Maria picked it up.
‘Olga… Olga, can you hear me?’
‘I hear you.’
‘Where am I supposed to go?’
‘I’m on the autobahn heading north…’ It was Buslenko’s voice. ‘Head for the Kreuz Koln-West junction and take the A57 and head north. I’ll let you know if we turn off. Olga, guide Maria through Junkersdorf onto the autobahn. Vitrenko’s car is not moving fast, but Maria won’t catch up to us till we stop. Olga… any idea where this takes us?’
‘Hold on,’ said Olga. There was a pause. ‘It looks like Vitrenko’s heading out of the city. Could be that he’s heading back up north. Hamburg.’
‘Unlikely at this time of night,’ Buslenko said. His voice over the radio a universe away. Maria felt isolated, cocooned by the darkness and the thick, sleety rain against the windscreen. How had she got herself into this situation? She had taken so much on trust with these people. Who was to say that they were who they said they were? She shook the thought from her head: they had saved her life; they had found Maxim Kushnier’s body and disposed of it; they had given her ill-planned, half-assed mission some kind of coherence and at least a hint of viability.
Maria pressed the call button of her radio. ‘Tell me where I’ve got to go…’
7.
The Hotel Linden was only a few minutes from where Cologne’s Hansaring joined the Konrad-Adenauer Ufer which ran along the Rhine’s edge. It somehow gave Fabel hope to sense something of the old Maria in her choice: the Linden’s situation gave her as central a base as possible without being conspicuous. He told the taxi driver to wait for him and trotted up the steps into the hotel’s small lobby. A pretty dark-haired girl smiled at him from behind the reception desk. Her smile gave way to a frown when he showed her his Polizei Hamburg ID card.
‘It’s nothing to worry about,’ he reassured her. ‘I’m just trying to trace someone.’
Fabel showed the receptionist a photograph of Maria. ‘Ring any bells?’
Her frown deepened. ‘I can’t say that it does… but I’ve been off the last week. Let me get the duty manager.’
She disappeared into the office and returned with a man who was too young to wear such a serious expression. There was a hint of suspicion in the way he eyed Fabel.
‘What’s this all about, Herr…?’
‘Principal Chief Commissar Fabel.’ Fabel smiled and held out his ID again. ‘I’m down from Hamburg looking for this woman…’ He paused while the pretty receptionist handed the photograph to the manager. ‘Her name is Maria Klee. Our information suggests that she stayed in this hotel. But she might have used another name.’
‘What has she done?’
‘I don’t see that has anything to do with your answer to my question.’ Fabel leaned forward on the reception desk. ‘
Have you seen her or not?’
The duty manager examined the photograph. ‘Yes, I have. But she doesn’t look like that now.’
‘What do you mean?’
‘She checked out of here a couple of weeks ago.’ He typed something into the reception computer. ‘Yes, here it is, the twenty-sixth. But when she checked out her hair was cut really short and dyed black. The other thing was her clothes.’
‘What about them?’
‘They were always different. I don’t mean just a change of outfit
… I mean completely different styles of clothes. One day really expensive, the next scruffy and cheap.’
Surveillance, thought Fabel. She had a lead and was following it. ‘Anything else? Did she ever meet with anyone here?’
‘Not that I’m aware of. But she did park her car in the hotel car park without registering its licence number with us. We nearly had it towed away, but one of the porters recognised her as a guest. I was going to have a word with her about it but she checked out before I had a chance.’
‘Did you get the number?’
‘Of course…’ The prematurely pompous duty manager again referred to the hotel computer. He scribbled something down on a pad and handed it to Fabel.
‘But this is a “K” plate… a Cologne licence.’ Fabel looked at the number again. ‘What kind of car was it?’
‘Cheap and old. I think it was a Citroen.’
‘Would you have any idea where she was going from here?’
The duty manager shrugged. Fabel scribbled his cellphone number on the back of a Polizei Hamburg business card.
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