Craig Russell - The Valkyrie Song

‘The Angel of St Pauli exists as a concept, if perhaps not as a reality. A powerful concept that has maybe caught more than the general public’s imagination. I think it’s entirely possible that Westland’s murder is the work of the Angel by inspiration rather than execution. There are fundamental differences between his murder and the original killings: the killer didn’t carry out a post-mortem castration or take a trophy…’

‘That could simply be because she was disturbed,’ said Werner. ‘Christa Eisel found Westland still alive and bleeding out fast. If she hadn’t applied pressure he wouldn’t have made it to the ambulance. Maybe the killer heard Christa coming.’

‘Maybe so, but a panicked escape doesn’t fit with the fact that no one was seen leaving the scene. Carstens Kaminski’s Davidwache team have spoken to almost every girl working the Kiez that night — and bear in mind that most of them sit watching the streets from their windows. Normally any unknown woman passing through the street would stand out. The problem we have is that it was an exceptional night in the Kiez, given this near-riot feminist protest. But, prior to the protesters’ invasion of Herbertstrasse, no one noticed a woman who didn’t belong wandering around. Also, Christa Eisel swears no one passed her coming out of the square. But let’s say the killer was disturbed — it still doesn’t alter the fact that she eviscerated Westland instead of cutting his throat. What’s more, Westland was on foot, where all of the original victims were in their cars. And let’s remember we are nearly a full decade on from the last Angel murder. There are, however, specific similarities — particularly the expert use of a blade. For the moment my money stays on this being the work of a copycat.’ Fabel slipped a large printout from the folder on his desk. He stuck it up on the incident board. A woman of about thirty stared blankly out from the photograph. She was wearing no make-up and her blonde hair had been brushed back severely from her face. The image had the bleached, stark lighting of an official photograph.

‘This is Margarethe Paulus,’ explained Fabel. ‘I’ve just been sent her details by the BKA. Three nights ago, she escaped from a secure mental hospital in Mecklenburg-Vorpommern. I haven’t had a lot of time to go through all the details, but the main thing you should know is that she is a highly dangerous individual. She killed and castrated three men in nineteen ninety-four and would have been a prime suspect for the original Angel killings had she not already been locked up. And we have to bear in mind that her murders were spree, rather than serial. She is familiar with Hamburg, apparently, and was brought up in Zarrentin, in north-west Mecklenburg. Although it was in the former East, it’s only seventy kilometres from Hamburg. It’s highly unlikely, given that she only escaped three days ago, that she’s involved with these latest killings, but we have to keep an open mind. She would certainly be a candidate for a copycat killer. At the very least we need to be on the lookout for her.’

‘How did she manage to escape?’

‘Walked out of the main gate, apparently. She had complained of feeling unwell and an orderly and a nurse were escorting her to see a doctor. She broke the male orderly’s arm before knocking him out, then stole the nurse’s uniform, electronic door key and identity card before locking her in a storage room, bound and gagged. It’s clear that Paulus is a highly organised type. Somehow she had managed to collect make-up and hair dye over God knows how long so that she could make herself look like this nurse.’

‘So she had targeted the nurse, rather than just grabbing an opportunity to escape?’ asked Dirk Hechtner.

‘Probably months in advance.’

Fabel spent the rest of the briefing going through what they had in the way of statements and the initial forensic evidence. He then allocated investigative tasks to each team member. After he had wound the meeting up, Werner loitered until the others were gone.

‘Let’s have it, Werner,’ said Fabel, gathering up his papers. ‘What’s on your mind?’

‘Anna told me about your chat.’

‘My God, it didn’t take her long to find a shoulder to cry on.’

‘It’s not like that, Jan. I asked her how it had gone. She’s in shock, I think. So am I, truth be told.’

‘You think I’m making a mistake?’ Fabel asked.

‘I think you would have handled it differently if Anna had been a man, to be frank, Jan.’

‘Not that again, Werner. I don’t let gender influence how I deal with my officers.’

‘Well, whatever the reason, I think you should give Anna another chance. She’s put her neck on the line more than once for the sake of catching a killer.’

‘But don’t you see that’s the point? Anna has put her neck on the line. She nearly got herself killed twice doing exactly that. This isn’t the Wild West, Werner. I mean, I thought you would understand. If anything it’s you that’s kept me from screwing up because you always make sure we follow procedure. There have been times when Anna has all but rendered evidence inadmissible because she hasn’t followed the State Prosecutor’s guidelines.’

Werner sighed and rubbed a shovel of a hand over the grey stubble on his scalp. Fabel always thought Werner looked like a retired boxer or hardened sailor: his broken nose, picked up early in his career as a street policeman, his Hamburg Low-German way of speaking combined with his faintly scruffy way of dressing and his powerful build made him look like someone who was probably inclined to use muscle rather than brain. But no one had the eye for detail that Werner had. A tiny discrepancy in someone’s statement, some event that didn’t quite fit into the chronology of a crime, a forgotten scrap of evidence that changed the whole picture: these were the things that Werner caught when everyone else, including Fabel, had missed them. The truth was that Fabel relied heavily on Werner’s counsel, and it troubled him that his friend thought he was making a mistake over Anna.

‘Listen,’ said Werner, ‘I know you’ve been looking for a replacement for Maria Klee to partner me with. Team me up with Anna in the meantime. You could put Henk together with Dirk for a while. I think Anna and I could work well together. A good balance. Give it a go for a month or two. Then, if you still think she should go, fair enough.’

‘Have you talked to her about this idea of yours?’ Fabel asked suspiciously.

‘No. I promise. It’s just that she’s desperate to stay in the Commission, Jan. And Anna really would be a loss to the team. Another loss. She’s a good officer, Jan. She just needs to be brought into line. Let me have a crack at it.’

‘Okay, let me think about it,’ said Fabel.

‘Hard day?’

‘I thought you were asleep,’ said Fabel to the shadow in the bed.

‘I was. I asked if you’d had a hard day…’

‘The usual. Murder. Mayhem. Paperwork. You?’

‘The usual. I heard you have another celebrity murder on your hands. Are you sure you’re not doing them yourself, just to advance your career?’

‘Our career. I can see I’m going to have to bring you into this one,’ said Fabel. ‘That’s the deal: I’ll keep killing them to keep us both in work.’ He slid between the sheets. They were cool and clean on his skin. ‘By the way, have you seen my MP3 player lying around?’

‘No. You’ve already asked me. How did it go with Renate?’

Fabel sighed. ‘How does it ever go with Renate? She was as bitter as hell, as always. I don’t know how the hell she has managed to turn the whole situation around so that she’s the injured party. It was Behrens who dumped her. Not me.’