Blood Ties

by Alexander Hartung

  ‘Then get me some better evidence! Something I can use to arrest van Berk and rip the whole house down . . . including that wall!’ said Naumann. ‘Until I’ve got that, my hands are tied, Pohl!’

  ‘Fuck! This is bullshit!’ Nik shouted, ending the call and putting his phone in his pocket. He opened the door forcefully and stomped around to the car boot.

  He couldn’t wait around any longer.

  To free up his hands, Nik had hooked up his phone to his Bluetooth headphones. He was wearing a black woollen hat and a black jacket and carrying a large rucksack over his right shoulder.

  ‘This is an awful idea,’ said Jon.

  ‘This was our plan B,’ said Nik.

  ‘Still doesn’t mean it’s a good idea. You couldn’t take on those security guards even on your best day. So with your shoulder the way it is, it’s a really fucking stupid idea.’

  ‘They’re going to kill him, Jon!’

  ‘We don’t know that for sure. They didn’t kill Hannes.’

  ‘Yeah, only because he can’t speak.’

  ‘That villa is a fucking fortress, Nik. You won’t even get near Simon.’

  ‘Well, then I’ll die trying. But I can’t stay here in this car waiting for a miracle.’ Nik ran across the street and pressed himself up against the wall. ‘So? Are you going to help me?’

  Jon let out a loud groan. ‘Of course I am.’

  Nik looked up. The wall was four metres high and as smooth as a mirror. No grooves, no overhanging branches. ‘Where’s the best place to climb over?’

  ‘There isn’t one,’ said Jon. ‘There’s CCTV covering the whole property. But there are a couple of points where there is just one camera, both of which are partially covered by branches. The only way this plan has any chance of succeeding is if the security guard in charge of watching the monitors isn’t looking at the images too carefully at the very moment you come into the shot.’

  ‘I’ve heard worse plans.’

  ‘One of these entry points is to your right. Go to the end of the property and then four metres left. There you should see an oak tree. The plan might work if you’re able to attach your rescue ladder to the top of the wall there, and as long as van Berk hasn’t hired any extra security guards who I can’t see over the cameras.’

  ‘You should really work on your pessimism levels.’

  ‘You’d have to ooze with optimism to assume you’d be able to get on to the property without being seen.’

  Nik crept up to the corner of the wall and saw the path to the left. He couldn’t see anyone, so he took four more large steps, pulled the rope ladder out of his rucksack and threw the hooks on to the top of the wall. He pulled the ladder as tightly as possible so that the pointed hooks sunk into the stone. ‘Quality German workmanship right there,’ Nik mumbled as he started to climb. Thanks to the painkillers, the agony in his shoulder had subsided to not much more than a light throbbing and his injured leg felt solid. Once his head had reached the top of the wall, he took out a pair of infra-red binoculars from his bag. He lifted his head until he was able to see into the garden.

  ‘No one outside,’ said Nik quietly.

  ‘Yeah, that’s why van Berk has the cameras.’

  ‘How long will I be visible?’

  ‘If you manage to fall behind the oak’s trunk, you’ll be barely visible but as soon as you deviate even slightly from there, a blind man would see you.’

  ‘OK. And how long will I be out of the blind spots when I start to move?’

  ‘Hard to say from here,’ replied Jon. ‘I reckon for the whole forty metres until the house wall.’

  ‘That’s quite a lot.’ Nik pushed himself over the wall and jumped down behind the tree.

  ‘Quite a lot? Even Usain Bolt would show up on their screens for around six or seven seconds,’ said Jon.

  ‘Then it’s time for a drinks delivery, isn’t it?’ said Nik.

  ‘What?’

  ‘Find the nearest pizza delivery service where you can pay by PayPal or credit card,’ said Nik. ‘Order two bottles of water and transfer one hundred euros providing they set off straight away. And promise the delivery boy a hundred more if they get here in the next five minutes.’

  ‘And why am I not ordering pizza?’

  ‘Because someone would need to make it first and that would take too long.’

  ‘OK. And what’s the point of all this?’

  ‘The boy will arrive and press the buzzer at van Berk’s gate,’ said Nik. ‘And at that moment, everybody in the house will pay attention to the camera at the front door, including the security guard watching the monitors. And it’s exactly at that moment when I make a run for it.’

  ‘It could work.’

  ‘Only one way to find out.’

  ‘Stay on the line,’ said Jon. ‘I’ll order the drinks.’

  Nik had to use every ounce of discipline at his disposal to keep his head down and wait behind the trunk. But without the distraction from the delivery boy, he didn’t stand a chance. He had to wait.

  ‘Done.’ Jon was back on the line. ‘What do I do if they catch you?’ he asked, clearly concerned. ‘Naumann won’t be persuaded to search the house a third time.’

  ‘You’ll tell Daniela Haas that Simon is with van Berk in the villa.’

  ‘Daniela Haas? How will she help you?’

  ‘I’ve just got a gut feeling.’

  ‘What do you mean you’ve got a fucking gut feeling?’

  ‘I’ll tell you later.’ Nik heard the screeching of tyres.

  ‘That’s the delivery boy,’ said Jon.

  Nik looked at his watch. ‘Seven minutes. Not bad.’ He stood up from his crouched position and pressed himself against the tree.

  ‘Four seconds,’ said Jon. Nik tightened the straps on his rucksack and stretched out his legs. ‘Go!’

  Nik ran through the garden, past a fern tree and then a rose bush. Despite the tablets and the rush of adrenaline, there was still a piercing pain in his injured calf with every step. But he bit his lip and kept going. The camera attached to the gutter was aimed down precisely on his path, but he had no choice: this was the only entrance at the back of the house. In one long move, he jumped on to the patio and flattened himself against the wall.

  ‘What’s the delivery boy doing?’

  ‘They didn’t let him in,’ replied Jon. ‘He just put the bottles down on the ground, shrugged and left.’

  ‘Any activity elsewhere?’

  ‘All quiet.’

  Nik examined the patio door. It looked heavy and robust, and there was no doubt it was made from bulletproof glass. There was a handle on the outside but no lock, which suggested it probably locked from the inside with a deadbolt. The curtain had been pulled closed and there was no light shining from behind it. It was possible a whole army of security guards was waiting behind that curtain, but Nik had to at least try his luck. He wrapped his fingers around the handle and pulled it carefully. The door slid open silently. Nik gave a sigh of relief; a deadlock would have made things ten times more difficult. He pulled his gun out of his holster and used the muzzle end to slide the curtain to the side. He stepped inside cautiously.

  As soon as he did, he saw the shadows approaching. It was too late. Somebody sprayed tear gas in his face and something heavy thudded down on the hand holding the gun. He staggered backwards out of the door and as he did, someone grabbed his leg from underneath him and tipped him painfully on to the stone patio slabs. He brought his hands to one side and attempted to push himself up again, but it was all in vain: somebody had him in a headlock. Whoever it was pushed Nik on to his front while a second person tied his hands behind his back. Trying his best to defend himself with just his legs, he felt a sudden stabbing pain near the kidneys. His whole body shot into spasm and he cried out loudly. It was a taser gun. He lost all control over his body and slid, limp and jerking, down to the ground.

  The four hands of his attackers lifted him up and carried him inside. His
eyes burned and he ached to rub the liquid off his face. But his hands were still tied. Shortly after being brought inside, he was thrown on to the floor, the impact lessened somewhat by a rug.

  ‘Good evening, Herr Pohl,’ came van Berk’s voice. ‘How nice of you to visit.’

  Chapter 17

  Nik’s screams had been followed by a rattling and rustling on the line, and then he had been cut off. Jon had tried to call him back three times, each time without success. And the tracker wasn’t locating the phone either. It must have been damaged.

  ‘Fuck!’ Jon jumped up and kicked his chair. He had told Nik over and over again to buy a better case for his phone so it wouldn’t break. Maybe he had just tripped and his phone had fallen out of his pocket. But then, Nik’s scream hadn’t suggested he had merely tripped.

  Jon paced back and forth. All his knowledge, all his money, all his hacking skills . . . utterly useless now. He sat back down at his computer. ‘You and your fucking gut feeling!’ he mumbled as he started writing an email. After clicking ‘Send’, he grabbed his car key and ran to a storage room at other the end of the flat. He pulled his phone out of his pocket and dialled Balthasar’s number.

  ‘What’s happening?’ asked the pathologist.

  ‘I think Nik’s been caught and is now sitting tied up somewhere with van Berk,’ said Jon. ‘And we can’t rely on the police anymore.’

  ‘OK. So what do we do?’

  ‘I’ll have to get him out of there myself.’

  ‘How?’

  ‘Still don’t know, but I’m sure I’ll think of something stupid on my way over to the villa,’ explained Jon. ‘You in?’

  ‘Thought you were never going to ask.’

  Nik’s hands had been cuffed and the men had sat him down on an armchair. As his eyes started to recover from the tear gas, the room fell into focus. In front of him was a sofa and a coffee table, and then there were the fully stacked bookcases that reached all the way to the ceiling. Licking flames crackled in the open fireplace. The man on the sofa was still blurry and vague but Nik could tell it was van Berk. He was leaning on his walking stick and breathing heavily.

  ‘It’s a shame we couldn’t meet again under different circumstances,’ he said with a dry voice. ‘I could have put a man like you to good use.’

  ‘I don’t work for child murderers,’ replied Nik.

  ‘I never murdered Greta,’ he continued, his voice grating. The man then suddenly struck his stick down on the floor, consumed by a coughing attack. If Balthasar had ever coughed and rattled in such a manner, Nik would have called an ambulance immediately. But the security guard standing beside the sofa didn’t blink an eyelid. Such an attack was apparently a perfectly normal occurrence for van Berk. Nik couldn’t see any other employees from where he was sitting.

  Van Berk finally caught his breath. ‘It was an accident.’

  ‘Greta died from a bullet to the chest,’ retorted Nik.

  ‘The girl went for my security guard’s weapon and wanted to shoot me,’ van Berk continued. ‘If the second man hadn’t reacted as quickly as he did, I’d be dead now.’

  ‘That’s a bullshit excuse,’ said Nik. ‘If you hadn’t kidnapped Greta, she’d still be alive.’ Nik spat on the floor. ‘She was a teenager, for fuck’s sake! It might have been one of your gorillas that pulled the trigger, but her death is definitely on your shoulders.’

  ‘Well . . . you don’t need to worry yourself about seeing justice done. The cancer in my body is taking good care of that.’

  ‘When I get out of these cuffs, it’s not going to be the cancer that kills you.’

  Van Berk wheezed out a laugh. ‘Well, you’ll need to wait a little while.’ He coughed again. ‘I need to deal with something else first.’

  ‘You mean you want to know if Simon is related to you?’ suggested Nik.

  Van Berk looked back at Nik, pinching his eyes together.

  ‘There’s an unopened test tube on the table with a long cotton bud inside,’ Nik continued. ‘So, you’ve either got auditory canals the size of an elephant’s or it’s a swab for the inside of the cheek.’

  ‘You’re too clever for your own good, aren’t you, Pohl?’ remarked van Berk.

  ‘That’s what my teachers used to say . . . but I never used to listen to them either.’ Nik leaned back in the chair. ‘Finally it all makes sense,’ he said. ‘It wasn’t the teenagers that were hiding the secrets, it was their DNA.’

  ‘Indeed. But unfortunately, your realisation comes a little late.’

  ‘It was your child that was born that night in June 2003,’ Nik went on, ignoring van Berk’s remark.

  ‘My grandchild,’ van Berk corrected Nik.

  ‘So your son’s child,’ said Nik. ‘And where is Elias? There’s been no trace of him for years.’

  ‘When my son found out how I earn my money, he suffered a severe morality attack,’ said van Berk. ‘I had got him into the best universities . . . given him everything he ever wanted, but still he renounced me.’ Van Berk coughed. ‘So he gave me a choice: I could either use my connections to give him a new identity, or never see him again.’

  ‘So what did you do?’

  ‘I gave him a new identity, of course!’ answered van Berk. ‘My family was always the most important thing to me.’

  ‘And what does your son have to say about everything? To the kidnappings and murders?’

  ‘He and his wife died a year ago in a car crash on Martinique. My grandson would also have died if they hadn’t left him at home with his nanny.’ Van Berk lowered his head and sighed loudly. ‘So now it’s just me and Elias’s son, Aaron.’

  ‘And now, right before you die, you want to proclaim that Simon is your eldest grandson,’ said Nik. ‘But why kidnap the teenagers? Why not put an announcement in the paper and do a DNA test with those who get in touch?’

  Van Berk closed his eyes and leaned back on the couch.

  Nik jiggled his legs nervously. Jon had already found out that Elias was Olaf van Berk’s son and Nik now realised that the reason Jon hadn’t found anything on him since 2009 was because he had changed his name. Elias wasn’t married then and didn’t have any children. But van Berk had just said Elias had a wife . . . So the marriage must have taken place after 2009.

  ‘Oh, shit . . .’ said Nik. ‘His first child was born in 2003 and Aaron’s a lot younger. You’re scared the firstborn might make a claim to their inheritance rights.’

  ‘That child was the result of some stupid flirtation with a whore,’ said van Berk spitefully. ‘Carla was a maid. Came over here from some farm in Spain. Too thick to use contraception but cunning enough to make eyes at my son.’ His hands trembled as he spoke. ‘It was a trap. Elias had just turned eighteen and Carla hoped she’d be able to sidle her way into higher circles by getting pregnant with his child.’

  ‘So, let me guess . . . you planned to have the pregnancy terminated, right?’

  ‘Elias still listened to me back then.’

  ‘Yeah, but then Carla saw it coming and ran,’ Nik concluded. ‘So, it was your men who were at the labour ward that night. Pressurising the nurse.’

  ‘That stupid bitch . . .’

  ‘And what will Aaron say when he finds out his inheritance was bought with the blood of his half-brother?’

  ‘He won’t say anything because all this ends here. Come the crack of dawn, all traces will be destroyed and I’ll have just the one heir.’

  ‘A little optimistic, don’t you think?’ said Nik. ‘The abductions are all over the media and the CID have got two special commissions on the case. Nobody’s going to rest until they’ve found out who’s behind all this.’

  ‘The only optimist around here is you.’ Van Berk pointed at Nik. ‘I haven’t left a single trace. I mean, the CID were just here and didn’t find a thing when Simon was barely two metres away from them!’ Van Berk stretched his face into an evil grimace. ‘Blanket surveillance and secret soundproofed rooms certainly have their
advantages.’

  ‘And I suppose I’m one of the traces that needs to be destroyed?’

  ‘Of course.’

  ‘So why haven’t you shot me yet?’

  ‘Because I’m still not sure if Simon is Elias’s son,’ van Berk replied. ‘And since you and your partners have proven yourselves rather determined opponents, you might still have some useful information. And most importantly, I want to know who your ominous hacker is.’

  ‘Yeah, good luck with that.’

  Van Berk made a dismissive hand gesture, as if to shoo away Nik’s words. ‘Oh yes. They’re all valiant at the start. But I’m sure after my Russian friends have pulled out your fingernails, you’ll tell me everything.’

  Van Berk looked at his watch then shook his head, mumbling something Nik couldn’t understand.

  ‘The DNA test seems to be taking its time, doesn’t it?’ Nik remarked.

  ‘Yes, well, even with the latest technology, it still takes a while,’ said van Berk. ‘And you should just concentrate on enjoying the last few hours of your life. And then . . . with a little bit of luck . . . my men will spare you the torture and treat you to a quick death.’

  Balthasar squeezed the accelerator and raced through the red light.

  ‘If we’re planning to help Nik, we should maybe try not to die first.’ Jon was holding on to the door handle with both hands. He tugged once again on his belt to make sure it was definitely working.

  ‘It’s midnight. There’s barely any traffic at this time of day,’ said Balthasar, driving so quickly around a roundabout, Jon was slammed against his door. ‘So have you thought up a plan yet?’ asked the pathologist.

  ‘I was thinking we should make some kind of diversion so Nik can free himself.’

  ‘OK, such as?’

  ‘When I bought Nik’s weapons on the black market, I got a reserve in case he ever lost anything.’

  ‘Are you referring to that large black box in the boot?’

  Jon nodded.

  ‘What’s inside?’

  ‘Two guns, two revolvers, one rifle and one hand grenade.’