Nemesis: Innocence Sold

by Ross, Stefanie

  “I’d say so, too—and how good it is that I still have some days left.”

  A smile softened Jake’s rather severe features. “Message received, Doc. This will be interesting.”

  “It will,” said Daniel.

  Before Sandra could follow up about what the exchange meant, Mark and Dirk appeared. Mark dropped into a comfortable-looking armchair, while Dirk, after looking grimly at the chair at his desk, which had been occupied by Jake, chose the other armchair. “That leaves the couch for our turtledoves,” Jake said and grinned. “Should we finally get started? I don’t think it makes any sense to wait for Stephan and Sven.”

  Dirk didn’t wait for anyone to agree but nodded at Sandra. “Go ahead, you have the floor. And before things get any more complicated, please start by explaining the role your brother played.”

  “He has nothing to do with this. He works for the BKA as a systems analyst. He doesn’t carry a gun; he’s a real computer freak and explained to me how I can hide my IP address.”

  Jake raised an eyebrow. “He did a good job with that, but why didn’t the program start automatically when you went online? That would have been safer.”

  “Then you already know that I forgot to start it manually one time? One time and it causes all this? I can’t believe it. But it’s not Martin’s fault. He thinks I wanted the tool so I could download a few songs once in a while. Otherwise he’d never have helped me; he would have told me to go to the responsible units.”

  “Why are you doing all this on your own?”

  Although Mark had asked the question calmly and with no hint of accusation, Sandra jumped up. “Because no one listened to me, that’s why. The responsible units considered it a nutty idea. Of course, no proof, only a theory. But instead of having it checked out, I’ve had to listen to smug remarks about my job.”

  Daniel reached for her hand and pulled her gently but firmly back to the couch. “Calm down. We’re listening to you, and no one thinks you’re crazy. Just start at the beginning.”

  “I’m sorry. It’s just . . . Oh, damn.” Embarrassed, Sandra pushed a stray strand of hair behind her ear.

  Dirk smiled and pushed over a glass with an amber liquid in it. “I’m sure you can use this. Take your time.”

  Her gaze wandered to an assortment of bottles that stood on a shelf next to law texts and various books. “Whiskey?”

  “Single malt. Balvenie, mild, with a note of vanilla. Fifteen years old and aged in sherry casks,” Dirk said.

  Sandra reached for the heavy glass. She typically avoided strong alcohol; the constantly growing number of empty wine bottles next to her trash can was enough for her. A tempting scent reached her nostrils, and after taking a careful sip she determined that Dirk had been right. No trace of the burning or sharpness she would have expected, but a pleasant taste. “Vanilla? I would have guessed caramel. Too bad this stuff’s probably beyond my means. Anyhow, the whole thing started with an assignment at one of those housing centers for asylum seekers. We were actually just supposed to resolve a dispute, but when we got there the suspects had long since disappeared into the maze of shipping containers being used for housing. A young woman—not yet twenty—lit into us and accused us of always arriving too late and said that we didn’t care about her fate or the conditions there and that we were not even interested in how a lot of children were disappearing.”

  Sandra almost got ahead of herself; with a great effort, she forced herself to slow down. “I couldn’t stop thinking about it, and I went back the next day. Alone.”

  Daniel drew a sharp breath. “That wasn’t particularly . . .”

  Mark leaned forward and raised an eyebrow. That was enough to cause Daniel to stop in the middle of his sentence. “Sorry, Sandra. Go on.”

  “Fatiyah told me an unbelievable story. ‘A lot of children’ wasn’t really accurate, but she introduced me to three women whose children had been taken away when they were less than six years old. You can believe me when I tell you that their pain and heartbreak was real. One can’t fake something like that. Other than these tags from the hospital and the birth certificates, they had no documents related to the children. I got nowhere with the authorities. They are either overworked idealists or unbelievable ignoramuses. When I proved unable to help the women directly, I continued through the Internet. You have no idea how many children disappear without a trace each year. In the case of victims from marginalized social groups, no one’s interested; the explanation’s always ‘Returned to the homeland, living with relatives.’ Those cases are simply not followed up on. Others make headlines. In some cases there are strange details. I’ll just mention Peggy down in Bavaria. A mentally handicapped man is identified as the perpetrator, and a number of questions, particularly ones related to the systematic selling of children, remain unanswered. Probably no one will ever know what really happened there. But it fits the pattern.

  “Who has the money to satisfy his perverse desires? Certainly not the little working man around the corner. No, it’s people who have a lot of money. And people who have money also have influence. There are even theories according to which some people at the very top use the kick—this feeling that they can do whatever they want because there are no boundaries for them anymore. It sounds sick, but this kind of thing has a tradition that goes back many centuries. And then there are the people who do it because an opportunity lands right in front of their noses, and they have the necessary power. I’m thinking of all the cases in regular schools, boarding schools, and church institutions. Well, you know, and I’m sure you’re also aware that these cases are often covered up for years. Of course there are also those men who are really sick and fight their tendencies or give in to them, but they are not who I’m talking about here. I think. I don’t know. But I am guessing it’s about money and power. Basically, it’s always either about one or the other.” Again she had gotten too loud and broke off.

  Dirk leaned over the low table and poured her another drink. “We came to similar conclusions when we investigated what happened to Tim. And believe me, the topic doesn’t leave any of us cold. But this vague ‘those people at the top’ doesn’t help us. What concrete indications did you have? You didn’t end up in their sights without a good reason. You must have gotten really close to them.”

  With a crooked smile, Sandra picked up her glass. “Thanks, but if you keep going like this, I won’t be able to think a clear thought pretty soon. I met with Fatiyah again because I wasn’t getting anywhere. It took forever, but then she mentioned the name of someone she thought must be involved.”

  She dully anticipated how Daniel, at least, was going to react when she described what she had done next. It couldn’t hurt to take a little shot of courage, although she was gradually starting to feel the effect of the alcohol. “I put the name through the computer and then took a look at his car and his home—from the outside, of course.” The expected reaction came; Daniel gasped but said nothing. “Then I also followed him a little ways and drank an extremely expensive beer in a filthy bar and was able to pick up a few words. Another guy greeted him with the words ‘killer double-oh seven’ and he answered, ‘Lover for free.’ Through Google, I found a forum with a user who had this nickname. But only after I figured out that ‘lover for free’ was spelled ‘Lover4free,’” she said, holding up four fingers. “Supposedly the page had to do with relationship problems, but what was really going on was mostly superficial sex talk. After Martin explained to me how I could hide my IP address, I spent months participating in the chat room. Two weeks ago, I received an invitation to a private chat. I thought that was the breakthrough. But I didn’t really know what to do next, so I waited for someone to offer me something.”

  “Offer you what? A child?” Dirk asked.

  “Well, again and again there were references to flower deals. The code is ridiculous. The night before last it said that Killer007 would bring a flower that was yellow at the top and brown underneath. After that there were two
combinations of letters and numbers that could have been referring to four years and fifty thousand euros.”

  This time Dirk poured himself a large glass of whiskey. “Fifty thousand? A child’s life isn’t worth any more than that? God damn it, we’ve been over this already. If I’ve understood this correctly, you forgot to hide your IP address one time and then they found you? Jake, what does that mean? Are they in contact with Sandra’s provider?”

  Sandra noted the question implied by Dirk’s comment, but this was hardly the time for a change of topic.

  Jake placed his laptop on the table. “No. They proceeded differently. They were able to circumvent the firewall relatively easily and they—”

  “Just a second,” Sandra said. “How is that supposed to work? My program has performed very well in tests.”

  “You shouldn’t believe everything the ads promise. They succeeded in getting you to download a file. A so-called rootkit virus. I’ll spare you the details. But this virus is not detected by common virus scanners and took screenshots at twenty-second intervals. The screenshots were stored and later sent off.”

  Sandra was shocked. “You mean they read every e-mail, every document, everything?” she asked, although she knew the answer.

  “Yes, and since your name and address were at the bottom of every e-mail you sent, it was child’s play to find you. I assume the e-mails from your brother and Stephan were the trigger for them to go after you. The LKA and the BKA were no doubt a bit too much for them.”

  “Who got the screenshots from my monitor?”

  “I’m working on that, but it will take some time. At first glance, they appear to have landed on a computer in Saint Petersburg. But that doesn’t tell us anything; what’s behind that could easily be your next-door neighbor’s computer. Even with our resources, we’ve reached the end of the line for the time being.”

  “Your resources? Stuff like that weird cell phone and how you were able to get a fix on it just like that?” Sandra asked, but got only grinning faces by way of a reply. She gave Daniel a look she hoped made clear that this issue hadn’t yet been resolved.

  Jake returned to the topic at hand. “This thing with the chat room is pretty well done. Alongside the chat room there’s also a private area. I think we’ll get into that tomorrow. I just don’t understand why business transactions are being carried out in a semipublic area.”

  Dirk sighed. “I thought I was pretty good with a computer, but why a chat room? I don’t understand that. Can’t anyone get in there?”

  In a few words, Jake described the program used and the simple way one could create a secure area where only people who knew each other’s usernames and passwords had access and could communicate with each other.

  Astounded, Dirk emptied his glass. “It’s that simple. That would be the ideal platform for all kinds of transactions, then. From weapons to . . .”—he fell silent—“children.”

  “And for exactly that reason some government agencies are trying to keep an eye on that area. Basically, it’s an impossible task, but in the age of the supercomputer, it’s at least worth a shot. I’ll put Lynx on it.”

  “Who’s that?” Sandra asked.

  “A computer expert. Actually, Jake’s at least as good, but he has other things to do,” Dirk said.

  Mark rose. “Exactly, and with that our procedure’s established. I’ll talk to Tannhäuser about Daniel. This thing’s too big for Dirk and Sven alone.” Seeing Dirk’s angry look, Mark added, “I just mean in addition to your normal duties and because you’re not officially allowed to participate in the investigation.”

  Dirk accepted that he was excluded from the investigation with an amazing lack of resistance, and then it occurred to Sandra that Mark had said “officially.” This would get interesting.

  “One more question,” Daniel said, breaking in. “What does Sandra’s apartment look like?”

  Mark stretched. “Bad. The kitchen door was opened by force and is supposed to have been fixed by some kind of emergency service. But that’s only a provisional solution. As long as we don’t know who we’re dealing with, I’d advise you to avoid the apartment.”

  Sandra chewed on her lower lip. It appealed to her that Mark had spoken only of a recommendation, but she thought he was right, particularly because she kept her service pistol at the police station. She thought of Matthias—and he was all there was as far as friends who would offer her lodging in the middle of the night. “But I do need a few things,” she said, thinking aloud.

  Daniel stood up. “No problem. We’ll go together and get everything you need, and then you can have my guest room.”

  “Or ours,” Dirk said. “My wife would lend you what you need, too.”

  This time Sandra didn’t need even a second to make a decision. “Thanks a lot, Dirk, but since Daniel lives pretty much around the corner, it’s easier.”

  “Of course,” Dirk said with a smug grin. “If Doc doesn’t behave himself, call me. It’ll be a pleasure to teach him some manners.”

  Daniel glared at Dirk but abstained from commenting. His look was enough, and Dirk raised his hands. “I take it back—who knows what you’d do next time I got injured in the line of duty.”

  “I have some ideas,” Daniel said, but Sandra recognized the barely hidden smile at the corners of his mouth.

  Dirk smiled and dismissed this with a wave. “Take my car keys. We’ll sort out the vehicles tomorrow morning at headquarters.”

  CHAPTER 10

  The short drive to Sandra’s place wasn’t sufficient for her to get her thoughts in order—too much had come at her in the last few hours—and now she was thinking she might have been overly hasty in taking Daniel’s offer. After all, she had only known him a few hours. On the other hand, she trusted him, even though she didn’t know why. It probably would have been better to have declined the second whiskey; she was starting to feel a pleasant tiredness.

  “Wait a minute—we were supposed to be going to my apartment,” she protested when the Audi stopped in front of his duplex half.

  “That’s true, but not without the appropriate equipment. What do you use?”

  “A Walther P10.”

  “I don’t like those, because of the safety. But all right—we’ll find something for you.”

  Daniel held the door of the house open for her and showed her inside. “Take your time, and look around. Guest toilet first door on the right; bathroom upstairs; bedroom, guest room, and my study, too; downstairs the living room and kitchen.”

  Sandra remained standing in the hall when Daniel quickly disappeared into the living room. It seemed inappropriate for her to follow him. So she accepted his offer and looked around upstairs. She would have imagined the typical dwelling of a single man differently. The furnishings were functional but certainly cozy and neat. She carefully pushed open a door that had been ajar. A panoramic view of a coastline and a poster for an action film hung on the wall; it was only when she took a second look that she noticed someone was sleeping in the double bed. Frightened, she leapt back; she couldn’t see anything other than a dark mane of hair, but that was enough for her. She suppressed the question as to why this sight caused her to feel a sharp pain in her stomach and hurried downstairs.

  Once downstairs, she nearly collided with Daniel, who was holding a bulletproof vest and a pistol but somehow managed to hold her. “Hey, take it easy. What’s wrong?”

  “What did you think? That I was going to share a room with your girlfriend? No, thanks—I’ll sleep at Matthias’s place. Can I make a quick call?”

  “My . . . what? I don’t have a . . . What kind of guy do you think I am?”

  “Very convincing, Daniel. Almost as convincing as your performance as a supposed doctor.”

  “I am a doctor. Now stop that. Did you introduce yourself as a policewoman?”

  That got to her; there was also a voice in her head telling her that she was totally overreacting and also that it wasn’t any of her business whom
Daniel let spend the night. “No, I didn’t. But I still don’t intend . . .”

  “What’s going on? Do you think you could be a little louder?” The irritated voice came from behind her, accompanied by a yawn.

  Frightened, Sandra spun around and cursed when her ankle gave way under her. Once again Daniel’s firm grip prevented her from falling. “Take it slow—think of your—”

  “I know,” she said, surveying the unknown man. At the sight of the mussed shoulder-length hair, she had a burning recollection of the picture on Stephan’s desk. The man in the picture had also had strikingly long hair that had been tamed into a ponytail. Aside from that, the guy, with his blue eyes and striking facial features, was simply so good-looking that there should have been a law against it. But why did he speak completely accent-free German with definite North German dialect characteristics? When Sandra realized her mistake, she desperately sought a distraction, an opportunity to flee, anything. “Oh, shit . . .” was all she could say.

  “Well, that’s a greeting, too,” the man said. “So what’s going on here, Daniel? Where have you been? Who’s your very charming new friend? And what are you planning to do with those things?”

  The corners of Daniel’s mouth twitched; he visibly fought for self-control and then leaned against the banister, laughing. “My girlfriend?” he said. “I thought we were alone.”

  “Since somebody had cleaned up here, I could have guessed you were back. Somehow I didn’t get that far in my thinking. Man, I’ve stayed up the last two nights and wasted the whole day today having endless discussions in Eckernförde. Are you going to give me some answers now?”

  “Sandra, this is Tom Bannings, my partner. But only on the team,” he clarified with a grin. “Later on you’ll find out why we sometimes call him Cougar. Tom, as of today Sandra’s working for Stephan. She’s on the trail of the guys who were after Tim. We’ll explain the rest later. We still need a few things from her apartment, but since we’ve already had unannounced visitors there once today, I don’t want to take any chances. Light CBQ equipment, and you take on reconnaissance.”