Nemesis: Innocence Sold

by Ross, Stefanie

  Finally, Michael’s contradictory behavior made sense. “That’s too much. I had no idea.” Dirk hoped that would be enough; he didn’t know how Michael would react to sympathy.

  A self-deprecating grin flashed across the private detective’s face. “How would you? I didn’t want to believe it myself.”

  “Come on, let’s get it over with. Even though we might not like the result, anything would be better than all this brooding.”

  “You’re right. When this is all over . . . we should meet up. This constant Thanks and Sorry is somehow too little.”

  “Hm. Well, Sven and I know the fish place around the corner, but we haven’t yet been to the Zippelhaus.”

  “We can change that,” Michael said.

  A secretary with a short dress skirt and low-cut T-shirt led them into her boss’s empty office. When she was leaving the room, Dirk inconspicuously watched as she threw back her blond hair and returned to the outer office with swaying hips. Apparently not inconspicuously enough.

  “Be careful. Her boyfriend’s a boxing promoter, and she has a black belt in something. That shouldn’t be a problem for you, but nevertheless . . . How’s Alex, by the way?” Michael asked.

  “It doesn’t hurt to look. She should be on a magazine cover.”

  “That’s true. Walter came to know and value her at a shoot.”

  Dirk bit back a question about which qualities the publisher valued in particular. Smiling, Michael said, “You’re wrong; she’s his assistant and has an MBA.”

  “An assistant like that would be something for Sven and me, too.”

  “I doubt it. There’s one thing she can’t do: make coffee. It’s undrinkable, but maybe she ruins it on purpose so she doesn’t have to do it.”

  The open confession about his friendly relationship with Weinreich seemed to have done Michael good. Much of his tension had dissipated. When Weinreich joined them, offering a lengthy apology, the private detective managed a slight smile. “Thanks for taking the time.”

  “On the phone it sounded urgent.” Weinreich’s warm smile cooled when he turned to Dirk. “We haven’t had the pleasure. Walter Weinreich. And you are . . . ?”

  Before Dirk could answer, Michael said, “Dirk Richter. We worked together an eternity ago. He’s an accountant but now works primarily for the LKA in Hamburg.”

  “LKA? I hope you’re not here due to our little misunderstanding about the young lady.”

  “Indirectly, I am.”

  The publisher ignored Michael’s questioning look toward the conference room.

  Dirk read the nonverbal communication and formed an impression of Weinreich. In combining a white polo shirt with his dark-blue suit, he had found a clever combination of a casual and a formal style. His dark-gray hair and suntanned skin made him appear younger than midsixties; his deep blue eyes betrayed his mood with astonishing openness. While they had at first appeared darker and warmer, the considerably lighter blue now reminded him of Jake’s penetrating gaze, which had earned him his nickname. If Michael felt uncomfortable due to the sudden coldness in the publisher’s behavior, he didn’t show it.

  “Who did you inform yesterday about my inquiry?” the detective asked.

  “Why? Do you think you’re going to get a different answer in the presence of the LKA? It’s not a crime to privately gather information about someone.”

  Michael withstood the reproachful look. “Correct, but more’s involved—considerably more. Dirk had warned me yesterday to leave the subject alone. I should have listened to him; a few hours after our phone conversation, Sabina was kidnapped. Not in order to extort money; rather, she was supposed to . . .” Michael cleared his throat. “They were going to kill me and Dirk at the agreed-upon place of transfer, and my daughter was supposed to have been sold to someone who has enough money to satisfy his perverted desires.” Michael gave Weinreich time to process what he had said before he made a fresh start. “Who did you tell about our phone conversation? My family will not be safe until we’ve taken those guys out of circulation.”

  Visibly affected, Weinreich felt for a chair. His knuckles whitened when he squeezed the edge of it. “How is she? How are the boys? And your wife? What happened?”

  “They’re safe. Marius contacted the LKA behind my back. Ultimately the right decision. But it was very close.”

  “Do you need help? Where are they? How would my vacation house on Sylt be?”

  Michael nodded in Dirk’s direction. “I have help. All I need is a name. Two of the perpetrators come from the so-called best families. Exactly the circles you move in. Who was interested in Sandra Meinke? I’m going to get that guy with or without your help. But consider this: he kidnapped and drugged my daughter. If that doesn’t convince you to give me the name, then . . .” He shrugged, and the unspoken threat was communicated.

  Weinreich went pale. “You don’t think I had something to do with that? I love Sabina and the boys like my own grandchildren. You’re barking up the wrong tree, my boy. I admit I wanted to do a favor for a friend. But I can vouch for him. He has nothing to do with such deviant things and would never take any action that could harm you.”

  “You’re mistaken, Walter. Maybe it’s like in your case: he also asked you for a friend or something like that. But he can tell us that when we ask him.”

  “You’re completely wrong, Michael. There’s something else behind it. Maybe one of your other cases.”

  “No,” Dirk said. “What’s indicated by the evidence and connections is clear. Mr. Weinreich, we have a dead child, a kidnapping, and an attempted abduction, and then some people who know something but are not talking. How long is this supposed to continue? Until the next child dies or disappears? If you tell us who was interested in Sandra Meinke, we’ll move a step forward. We’ll neither mention your name nor appear there with a large number of officers; we’ll discreetly make an appointment. But we need your help. Michael’s family needs your help.”

  “You’re asking for too much, and you’re barking up the wrong tree,” Weinreich repeated.

  “Leave that assessment to us.” In a few words, Dirk summarized Sandra’s theory regarding child abuse as the ultimate kick. “Right now, my partner’s talking to the men who wanted to kill Michael and me yesterday. If he’s right, then the motive was the need to kill someone live and in person and make him feel a little fear first. There are limits, Mr. Weinreich. What’s going on here must end, but we need your help to make that happen.”

  Weinreich had become even paler, and Dirk became increasingly certain that the publisher at least had an idea of what he was talking about. “I can’t help you. I’ve already told you that you’re on the wrong track.”

  “Who are you protecting?” Michael asked. “Isn’t it clear what the consequences will be if you don’t help?”

  “What do you mean?”

  “I’d have thought you would have placed a higher value on the safety of my family. It leaves you shocked that Sabina and I almost lost our lives last night. What would you have done if we had? Heaved a sigh of relief because I wouldn’t be asking questions? And you would have assuaged your conscience by writing a check for my wife and my sons—or what am I supposed to believe?”

  “You’re going too far.”

  “No. I haven’t even begun yet. I want to know who I was supposed to spy on the girl for. Tell me.”

  Weinreich shook his head.

  “All right, fine, I can’t believe it, but fine. Or not fine. I can’t live with your priorities. Consider our cooperation over, and never get close to my family again.”

  “You’re not serious, my boy. When you’ve calmed down, you’ll realize that . . .” Weinreich grasped his stomach. With a movement that betrayed its routine nature, he took a tiny pillbox from his pants pocket and bit a tablet. After two gasping breaths, he had a grip on himself again. “Don’t do anything you’re going to regret later, Michael.”

  “I only regret that I didn’t speak openly to the LKA ye
sterday. I can’t believe I was so wrong about you. Dirk? Do you have anything more?”

  “Yes, one point. Mr. Weinreich, you’re sacrificing a great deal for your anonymous friend. You might find a comparable security expert, but it amazes me you’re willing to give up Michael and the children so frivolously. What about your freedom? Is that worth anything to you?”

  “What do you mean? Are you going to threaten me with coercive detention now?”

  “No, that would be pointless. Unfortunately, the rule of law also protects people like you. Key word: Ireland. Shamrock Real Estate Limited. Can we do business now?”

  Although Michael couldn’t know what Dirk was speaking of, he concealed his ignorance behind a poker face and said, “You wanted it this way. Is your friend really worth so much to you that you’re willing to spend a few weeks or months in prison?”

  When Weinreich straightened up after the initial shock, Dirk sensed they had achieved nothing. “My attorney will draft a voluntary declaration today. The rest will be up to the court to judge. I will not let myself be blackmailed; on the contrary, I’m absolutely certain my friend deserves my unreserved loyalty.” He gave a contemptuous wave of dismissal. “Those are values that are appreciated only to a limited extent by your generation.”

  “If that were true, Dirk would hardly have helped me yesterday. But go ahead and keep on living on your island of bliss, knowing full well that filth boils beneath the surface. Let’s go, Dirk, I’m finished here.”

  Dirk turned and followed Michael, who stormed to the elevators but said nothing until they had reached the Audi. “Do you know someone who knows a lot about computer networks and doesn’t take the law all that seriously?” Michael asked.

  “Why?”

  “Walter and his friends are fans of new means of communication. They love their BlackBerrys and e-mail each other about all kinds of crap. If we had access to the server, we might find out who he’s willing to fall on his sword for.”

  “The servers are going to be protected. How are you going to get through the firewall?”

  “Me? I’m just an ordinary computer user. But Marius sent network protocols or something like that to my laptop, and it must be possible using those. Our own computer experts helped make the network secure. Somehow I feared things would end like this.”

  “That sounds too good to be true, but I know just the right person for a job like that.”

  “Who?”

  “A friend,” Dirk said, grinning. His mood had improved, and he had hope that they would emerge from the dead end where the publisher had left them.

  CHAPTER 27

  Near the open-plan office in the drug department where her desk, too, would be located in the future, Sandra stopped and leaned against the wall. Although she had acted casual and under control in Sven’s presence, she couldn’t shake her thought about Kamps’s interrogation. The thought of what bored men of sufficient financial means were capable of was intolerable, despite the fact that in the last few years she had often confronted criminals and human abysses of various kinds.

  She pushed herself away from the wall with determination. She would help no one by philosophizing. She thought about how Daniel had probably already experienced more misery and death than she could imagine, and she laughed. Just the thought of him was enough to bring her out of her brooding.

  It was a good feeling to be able to naturally enter an office where she had found her place. Puzzled, she stopped next to two desks that had been pushed together and chairs that had apparently been arranged at random. Pizza boxes lay next to some printouts. Lars greeted her with a tormented smile. “Did you know Daniel’s a slave driver? I have the feeling my hair’s going to start smoking soon. This isn’t how I imagined it.”

  “How did you, then?” Kat asked. “Do you want to run around all day with your gun in your hand? Dream on, and quit making such a fuss. It was worth it.” She pulled a chair beside her. “Come on, sit down, Sandra. Daniel’s gone into Stephan’s office for a little while to make a phone call but will be back soon. We’re trying to organize everything into a reasonable system. Some things we can connect; in other cases, we’re hoping for help from you and Sven. How was it?”

  “I’ll tell you when Daniel’s back. I don’t want to say everything twice.” When she noticed how gruff her tone was, she shook her head. “I’m sorry. I can still feel that stuff in my bones. If I talk about it twice, I’ll probably start screaming.”

  “That bad? I’m sorry to hear that. Come on, I’ll show you the kitchen and changing room. Maybe the men will have a moment of genius in the meantime. But I doubt it.” Kat laughed when Lars threw a crumpled piece of paper at her. “That’s what I say: children. Are you coming?”

  “Just a second,” Sandra said. She realized only now that in addition to Lars and Wartberg there was a colleague present she hadn’t counted on: Volker Lüttgens. “How are you, Mr. Lüttgens? Have you recovered from last night?”

  “Aren’t you more interested in what I’m doing here?” he asked, needling her. “If it’s all right with you, we can dispense with formalities. Volker’s sufficient.”

  “Of course. Sandra. And you’re right. I thought you were recovering on a North Sea island.”

  “Perhaps I couldn’t tear myself away from my new personal physician? Or I just wanted more of the stuff he gave me yesterday,” Volker joked, making Sandra laugh.

  “Then being in the drug department with us is exactly the right place for you. Was that a confession?” she said, amazed at the change in the policeman. Freed from the burden of blackmail and his duplicity, he seemed like an entirely different man from the one she and Daniel had encountered in the apartment building in the Lübeck old town.

  “Certainly not. But seriously, my wife’s described to me in detail how you lost those guys yesterday. Thanks a lot for that.”

  “Don’t mention it. Anything new?”

  Wartberg pushed in between Lüttgens and Sandra. “Let me take over. I have to iron out a pretty bumpy beginning. Hannes is sufficient, all right? It’d be pretty silly if we were the only ones to retain the formalities. My boss in Kiel has retroactively added Volker to the team and initiated a manhunt for Blumenthal. We made bets about whether he was a peripheral figure and would reappear as a corpse or whether he’s higher up and has gone underground. I’m guessing the former.”

  “And I’ll get some coffee and water on my own,” said Kat, declining when Sandra made signs of following her. “Be right back. We’ll postpone our women’s tour until later.”

  Grateful for the extra time, Sandra decided not to comment on Hannes’s distrust of Volker, which came through clearly. She still remembered what Daniel had said about Volker’s participation in the firefight outside badlantic, and she trusted his feeling more than her Lübeck colleague. She turned to Volker. “That’s to say, you’ve been retroactively assigned to the Kiel people and are out of the woods?” She felt somewhat overwhelmed by the unexpected reception and the flood of information.

  “Yep, exactly, to some extent. My private investigation of Blumenthal will have no consequences. At the moment, I’m on sick leave, but my head works, so I can help out. There will definitely be consequences because of the thing with my sister, but I stand by that. I guess they’re not going to kick me out.” With a crooked grin, he tapped the bandage on his upper arm. “The bullet was a lucky strike; getting wounded in the line of duty can make up for a lot.”

  Sandra wasn’t planning to form a front against Volker alongside Hannes, so she made an effort to neutrally formulate the question that had been occupying her mind since the previous day. “Why didn’t you tell Blumenthal to fuck off if you don’t have a problem with accepting the consequences for the thing with the disco raid? I don’t understand that.”

  “You’re not the first person who’s asked me that today, and the answer sounds dumber every time I give it, but nevertheless . . . Even if I had lost my public servant status, which in my attorney’s view is e
xtremely unlikely, it wouldn’t have threatened my existence. My wife could have gone back to work, and I would have found something else. It was different: once I had gotten over the first shock of Blumenthal’s blackmail, I wanted to know who else was involved and how far the swamp extended. Call it stupid or naive. But I was wild about the Lone Ranger and Batman when I was a child, and I was sure I could outfox Blumenthal. You don’t need to underscore how moronic that was. I’ve already heard a lecture about basic principles on solo missions and teamwork.”

  “Then I’ll skip that,” said Sandra and ignored the derisive expression Hannes was using to comment on Volker’s explanation. “Would you give me an overview of what you have?” she asked, changing the subject.

  Hannes and Volker fought a silent duel of glances, and Volker, as the lower-ranking policeman, finally capitulated. “It’s not much, but it’s better than nothing.” He made a helpless movement in the direction of the piles of paper strewn around. “We’ve requested quite a bit of material having to do with this Kalle and in particular with the boy who was killed; we received these from colleagues by fax. Together with the cases Hannes and Berger have sorted through, this material shows a pattern. But we can’t get a proper handle on it. The only valuable trail is the all-terrain vehicle I saw on the grounds of the trucking company. I’ve clicked through all the manufacturer’s Web pages and am sure I have the correct type. In the Stormarn district, there are only fifteen vehicles of this model. Well, if I’m right. However, if you search for all Mercedes all-terrain-vehicle variants in Stormarn, you get a huge number. We’re working on finding a connection between the owner and one of the case’s other loose ends.”

  “We? I’m typing my fingers to the bone here!” Lars said. “I’ve entered all the names into a database. It automatically outputs double mentions or connections. Pretty practical.”

  Sandra was surprised. As far as she knew, such large-scale comparisons were only carried out in a computing center in one of the new federal states of Germany for cases of capital offenses. Lars understood her expression correctly and grinned. “Very simple. Our boss has the right friends. Sven developed this little but useful aid with a friend. It’s child’s play to use it, and it’s superpractical. That’s not really surprising—Sven specified the content, and his friend made the whole thing a technical reality. Subsequently, they sold the program to the FBI, among other organizations, and I’ll bet they’re earning pretty nice licensing fees. And thanks to our boss’s connection to the two developers, we have it, too.”