Blood Ties

by Alexander Hartung

  ‘How many?’

  ‘Two for every day,’ said Nik. ‘One for the daytime and one for night.’

  ‘OK, but in your current condition, I think you’re best not doing any long surveillance sessions.’

  ‘Yeah, well, the cars we hire will need to be expensive so they don’t stand out in the posh neighbourhood. So, if you think about it, it’ll be a kind of luxury surveillance. And that won’t be nearly as taxing,’ said Nik. ‘Plus, Balthasar wants to help out. He doesn’t go back to work until next week and he’s bored.’

  ‘Balthasar isn’t a trained CID agent.’

  ‘I know. And I wouldn’t ever put him in danger,’ said Nik. ‘He’ll just do a couple of hours a day in a locked car, phone in hand and directly in front of the camera.’

  ‘Van Berk’s security people aren’t squeamish, you know?’

  ‘I do know. But they’re not stupid either. They try to avoid any unnecessary attention.’

  ‘And what are you hoping to achieve from it all?’

  ‘Not a lot.’ The resignation in Nik’s voice was blatant. ‘But I can’t bear sitting around at home all day relying on the CID to find something. Monitoring the house is better than doing nothing.’

  ‘Give me today and tonight to get organised,’ said Jon. ‘I’ll arrange a hire car to be waiting at your front door early tomorrow morning and I’ll get enough cameras set around the villa so we don’t miss a thing.’

  ‘Sounds good,’ said Nik.

  ‘Welcome back,’ said Jon, before hanging up.

  Dana Baaken waited in the elegantly decorated living room, breathing in the aromatic scent of green tea that was steaming from the Meissen porcelain cup in her hand. She was standing in front of a painting of a birch forest in autumn that was hanging over a marble fireplace. It was perhaps less marvellous than a Rembrandt and not as surreal as something from Dali, but the picture still had a consuming magic about it. The longer you looked at it, the deeper you were pulled into the wood, where the leaves rustled under your shoes and the cool autumn breeze rushed through your hair. Dana stretched out her manicured hand, imagining she could touch the blue flowers, only to instantly pull it back as the heavy oak living room door creaked open.

  An elderly man walked slowly towards her across the thick Persian rug, breathing with difficulty. His back was bent double and he was leaning on a walking stick. He was wearing a dark grey suit, a light blue shirt and shiny black leather shoes which he barely lifted from the floor. It was more of a shuffle than a walk, but he still kept his head upright and his eyes fixed on Dana, in a pathetic attempt to demonstrate his strength. He was wearing make-up and a white wig, although the wig was of such high quality and fitted him so well, barely anyone would have noticed it. But Dana had learned to be aware of such details. She had only ever seen van Berk once before. It was at a large birthday party for some industrialist near Garmisch. Back then she had been impressed by his commanding demeanour, which made seeing him so weak and helpless all the more surprising. She supposed, however, that was just the way of things.

  Behind van Berk was a tall man with broad shoulders. He was looking down at van Berk’s shaking hands as they grasped his stick, as though ready to catch him should his energy suddenly expire. Dana put down the cup and waited for van Berk to sit down on the couch. She then sat on a chair opposite him.

  ‘Frau Baaken,’ he began with a quiet, hoarse voice. ‘Thank you for coming.’

  She nodded and stroked her right eyebrow with her right hand: a nervous gesture she’d had since she was a child.

  ‘I’ve heard you are among the best when it comes to finding missing people.’

  ‘I have good employees in the right places,’ she answered.

  ‘Like your network of hotel employees?’ asked van Berk.

  ‘Yes, but that isn’t my only trump card . . .’ admitted Dana. ‘I have lots of people on the streets: I’m in contact with security guards in clubs, and last year I managed to recruit a super recogniser.’

  ‘Please excuse me, but I’m not aware of this modern expression.’ He held his hand up to his mouth and coughed.

  ‘A super recogniser is someone who can remember every face they have ever seen, regardless of how long ago it was. I show this person a photo and they are able to filter out thousands of others and point to the one I need.’

  ‘A useful skill.’

  ‘This employee has a job where he has access to all CCTV throughout Munich. None of his bosses are aware of his talent but when I’m looking for someone, he can help. He’s happy to have the additional source of income.’

  ‘And how fast can you locate someone?’

  ‘Depends on numerous factors,’ said Dana. ‘The less the person goes into public spaces, the harder it is to locate them. Also, the neighbourhood in which the target is hiding plays a role. And lastly, it depends on how many other employees are deployed at the same time . . . Employees I have to acquire.’

  ‘And if all of your employees were to be involved in the search simultaneously?’

  ‘I’ve never had such a situation,’ said Dana. ‘The costs would be immense and . . .’

  ‘One million straight off?’ asked van Berk, interrupting the woman. ‘And another million after you find the person.’

  ‘I can work with that figure,’ said Dana, trying not to show her surprise at the offer.

  ‘My assistant will give you the first instalment when you leave the building,’ said van Berk.

  Dana resisted the urge to laugh out loud. She had never earned money as easily as this in her life. ‘So who is it you are looking for?’

  Van Berk took out a photo from his jacket pocket and laid it down on the table. It was a photo of a teenage boy. Maybe fourteen or fifteen years old.

  ‘His name is Simon Fahl,’ van Berk said. ‘And if you bring him to me in the next seventy-two hours, I’ll throw in the Klimt on the wall for you as well.’

  Chapter 16

  The last two days had done Nik the world of good. His headache hadn’t been nearly as bad, which meant he’d been able to work on the case without getting tired after only an hour. Since the shot to his calf had only grazed the skin without severing any muscle, he was able to walk again, and each day, he’d gone for two walks through the nearby park, where he could enjoy the bright autumn weather. And he’d stopped sweating when walking up the stairs. But he was still taking painkillers for his left shoulder and still couldn’t apply any pressure to it. Thankfully he was right-handed, so he was barely restricted by the injury.

  He sat on the back seat of an SUV with soft luxury seating, watching van Berk’s villa. He was using a camera that had been mounted on to a wheel arch. On the seat beside him, there was half a bar of chocolate, a Tupperware box filled with potato salad, and a bread roll. He took a sip of water from a bottle and bobbed his head to the soft rock music that was playing quietly on the radio. He had attached a clipboard with paper to the back of the driver’s seat so he and Balthasar could note down any observations. Over the last two days, however, there had been barely anything to write down and between them, they hadn’t even filled up one side of paper.

  The song on the radio came to an end and the eight o’clock news began. It was dark now and the traffic was much quieter. The weather forecast had predicted rain and as a result, the residents of the neighbourhood had all apparently sought shelter inside their lavish houses for the evening. The only person he had seen was a man walking his German Shepherd. The man had looked at his phone the whole time and hadn’t even glanced at the SUV.

  Nik picked up his tablet and looked at the images being transmitted from the four cameras that Jon’s useful acquaintances had installed two nights ago. Two were fixed to trees and two others to lampposts, giving them a good view of the property behind the wall.

  The area surrounding the villa reminded Nik of an English garden: bursting with flowers, shrubs and trees. There was also a well in the middle and expanses of lush green grass. The upkeep
costs for the garden alone would have been at least four hundred euros per month. But despite all the care and attention it had been given, the property still felt uninhabited. Once every so often, a security guard would walk around the garden unenthusiastically, usually with a cigarette in his hand, looking irritated by the surrounding beauty.

  Nik took out his phone and called Jon.

  ‘Anything new?’ Jon asked after picking up.

  ‘All quiet here,’ said Nik. ‘But I’ve got a question for you.’ He scanned the paper on the clipboard. ‘Have you seen van Berk on the property over the last two days?’

  ‘Possibly,’ said Jon reluctantly.

  ‘What d’you mean possibly? Did you see him or didn’t you?’

  ‘Yesterday at midday there was movement on the patio,’ said Jon. ‘Somebody was rolled outside in a wheelchair by a security guard and left there for fifteen minutes. The tall beech tree was obscuring most of the view so I couldn’t be sure who it was. But the white hair and dark suit definitely matched van Berk’s description.’

  ‘He uses a wheelchair?’

  ‘Well, that’s exactly why I said “possibly”.’

  ‘He didn’t really appear ill in the restaurant . . . but thinking back to it now, there were a couple of signs.’ Nik closed his eyes and remembered their meeting. ‘I noticed he was wearing make-up but I just put that down to vanity. And his hair looked too evenly spread out for a man of his age. So that definitely could have been a wig. Plus . . . he was waiting for me in the room when I arrived and I left before he did, so if he has problems walking, I never had the chance to see them. Oh, and then there was the coughing fit. So, yes. If you put all that together, there’s actually a lot to suggest he has a serious illness.’

  ‘Maybe this is the incentive we’ve been looking for,’ said Jon. ‘He doesn’t have much time left and wants to sort something out before he dies. And that something is linked to the three teenagers.’

  ‘Then maybe the problem will solve itself.’

  ‘No, we can’t rely on that,’ said Jon. ‘Van Berk can easily pay people to finish the job after he’s died.’

  ‘Wait a minute . . .’ said Nik, looking down at his tablet beside him. ‘The gate’s opening.’

  ‘You’re right.’

  The men went quiet, waiting anxiously as van Berk’s limousine drove out of the gate and turned left on to the street, heading in Nik’s direction. Nik’s hand moved automatically to his gun, preparing for an attack, but the car drove past him and turned on to the main street nearby.

  ‘Our bug’s still working,’ said Jon. ‘We can follow the car wherever it goes.’

  ‘Van Berk’s sitting inside.’

  ‘How d’you know?’ asked Jon. ‘The back windows are tinted.’

  ‘He was sitting up front in the passenger seat.’

  ‘Strange,’ said Jon.

  ‘Maybe he’s making himself visible on purpose,’ suggested Nik.

  ‘Do you think he found out about our surveillance?’

  ‘Not necessarily,’ replied Nik. ‘But he knows I survived the night at Hannes’ and he won’t have been best pleased with Naumann’s visit. So he’ll know there’s a good chance he’s being watched by either the CID or myself.’

  ‘OK. So what do we do now?’

  Nik clenched his fists and tried not to let his feelings take control. How he would have loved to drive behind the car, drag van Berk from the passenger seat and beat the truth out of him. ‘Is the bug definitely working?’ Nik asked.

  ‘I’m getting a clear signal.’

  ‘Then I’ll stay here,’ Nik decided. ‘But I need to know where he ends up.’

  ‘He’s heading towards the Altstadt right now. Anything stops longer than a red light and I’ll be in touch.’

  ‘Thanks.’ Nik hung up and turned back towards the villa. ‘What the hell are you up to, old man?’ he mumbled to himself.

  Nik looked at the time again. Van Berk had been driving across Munich for the last thirty minutes and nothing had happened around the villa. His mobile phone rang, breaking the silence and causing him to jump.

  ‘They’ve stopped,’ said Jon.

  ‘Where?’

  ‘In Brunnerstraße beside Luitpold Park,’ said Jon. ‘But don’t ask me what he’s doing there.’

  ‘Well, it’s not like he’s going to see the sights, is it?’ said Nik.

  ‘But he could be going up Luitpold Hill to enjoy the view one last time,’ suggested Jon. ‘Lots of people get sentimental when they know they’re about to die.’

  ‘Not van Berk,’ responded Nik. ‘For him, it’ll be the opposite. There’ll be a reason behind every single move he makes. He won’t be wasting his energy looking at an evening view over Munich.’

  ‘Well, the park’s a terrible choice for a secret meeting.’

  Just then, Nik was distracted by a black BMW speeding past him. It turned into the villa’s drive.

  ‘Who’s that?’ asked Jon, who had also noticed the car.

  ‘Van Berk doesn’t have any BMWs in his fleet,’ said Nik.

  ‘And the number plate doesn’t match any of his registered vehicles,’ said Jon as the villa gate opened.

  ‘I don’t like this,’ said Nik. ‘Van Berk’s not home but he’s getting visitors.’

  ‘Well, now we know the trip to the park was just a distraction.’

  ‘Yep . . . It got any possible spies out the way so the BMW could enter the premises unnoticed.’

  ‘Van Berk’s car just set off again,’ said Jon. ‘If they take the direct route back, they’ll be home in ten minutes.’

  ‘Are you able to zoom in on the entrance?’ Nik picked up his tablet.

  ‘No problem,’ answered Jon. He zoomed in on the BMW. A man got out, opened the back door and pulled someone wearing a knitted black hat out of the car. The camera positioning wouldn’t allow Nik to get a glimpse of their face but as Jon zoomed in even closer, Nik noticed the person’s flapping, ripped jeans.

  ‘It’s Simon!’ he called out.

  ‘Are you sure?’

  ‘He was wearing those trousers when he came to see me in hospital,’ said Nik. ‘I saw them when he was leaving the room.’

  ‘Shit! What do we do?’

  Nik went to reach for his gun but then remembered the villa’s high wall and the numerous cameras mounted on the gate and doors.

  ‘Call Naumann,’ Nik said finally. ‘Tell him what happened and send him the footage.’

  ‘But those recordings were taken illegally,’ Jon reminded Nik. ‘And they don’t prove Simon’s been taken into the house against his will.’

  Nik thumped his fist down on the seat beside him. Jon was right. Nik took a moment to think. ‘Then just send him a picture of Simon and the car in the driveway. But before you do that, call the police anonymously and tell them you saw Simon getting kidnapped and dragged into a BMW. All of that together with the registration number surely has to be enough for a search.’

  ‘Give me two minutes,’ said Jon, hanging up.

  Nik turned to look at the villa. Sitting inside the SUV doing nothing was making him go crazy, but he’d be useless to Simon in his current state. And just then, as if reminding him of his weakness, a shooting pain darted through his left shoulder. Nik put a painkiller in his mouth and washed it down with water.

  ‘Hang in there, Simon,’ he said under his breath. ‘Help’s on its way.’

  Just as the words had left his mouth, the limousine drove past. Once again, van Berk was sitting in the front passenger seat, but this time he had a wide, contented smile on his face.

  It didn’t take long for the police to turn up. Two emergency vehicles headed by Naumann’s private car stopped in front of the large gate. Nik’s former boss stepped out of the car, rang the buzzer and showed his ID to the camera. The gate opened. Naumann’s car drove in, followed by a patrol car. The second patrol car remained where it was, blocking the entrance.

  Jon called. ‘I’m watching,�
�� Nik told him.

  ‘Naumann was cooperative. He knew exactly what had to be done.’

  ‘Second time in months I regret no longer working for the CID.’

  ‘We’ll just have to wait,’ said Jon.

  ‘Not exactly my forte,’ mumbled Nik.

  The time passed slowly. Nik opened the car window to let in some fresh air. He stared at the tablet, going from camera to camera, barely allowing himself to blink in case he missed something.

  ‘You’ve got to be kidding me,’ he said after an hour had passed. ‘How long does it take to find a kidnapped child?’

  ‘Maybe Simon had gone with them voluntarily?’

  ‘You don’t really believe that, do you?’

  ‘Well, I doubt van Berk would have barricaded himself in.’

  The front door opened and Naumann came out with the two police officers. They got back into their cars and drove through the gates – no blue lights, no sirens.

  ‘Did you see Simon?’ asked Nik.

  ‘He wasn’t with them.’

  The cars drove past Nik’s SUV. There was nothing to suggest they had just saved a teenager from an abduction.

  ‘Can you get Naumann on the line?’

  ‘Sure,’ said Jon. A second later, Nik heard a beeping that was being drowned out by a loud interference.

  ‘Heinrich Naumann,’ he heard his former boss say.

  ‘Where’s Simon?’ Nik asked angrily.

  ‘He wasn’t there,’ replied Naumann.

  ‘But you saw for yourself . . . He was driven into the villa by a man who certainly wasn’t his best buddy.’

  ‘No. I received an illegally shot photo of a boy about the same size and stature as Simon,’ said Naumann. ‘And I’m telling you, other than van Berk and two security guards, there was nobody in that villa.’

  ‘Then they must have tied him up and hidden him.’

  ‘We searched every inch of that house while those three people sat and waited in the living room,’ said Naumann. ‘Van Berk was very obliging. We were even allowed to search the summerhouse and the garage. But there wasn’t a single trace of Simon.’

  ‘He’s in there!’ shouted Nik.