Craig Russell - The Valkyrie Song

‘We’re here to discuss a number of recent deaths. All of these deaths have some connection to the NeuHansa Group. Not always directly, but there always seems to be a tie-in.’

Gina Bronsted frowned. ‘Naturally if we can help we will do all we can.’

‘You are standing for Principal Mayor, Frau Bronsted?’

‘That’s public knowledge. I don’t see-’

‘Could you tell me something about your political platxform?’ asked Fabel.

‘I really don’t see the relevance,’ said Langstrup.

‘Indulge me,’ said Fabel to Bronsted, ignoring Langstrup. ‘Let’s say I’m a floating voter.’

‘My political platform is pretty much the same as the one my business is built on. Europe is unifying: some day soon there will be a Federal Europe and its economic power will dwarf that of the United States and even emerging superpowers like China and India. Already Europe is an economic and mercantile singularity. That means that old national borders are meaningless and there is an opportunity for new transnational alliances to be built. I am not a German politician. I am a Hamburg politician. As far as business is concerned, my vision is to build alliances with other Northern European cities and create and share the kind of prosperity that national governments are incapable of delivering.’

‘Like the old Hanseatic League,’ said Fabel. ‘Hence the NeuHansa name.’

‘The Hanseatic League is long dead and gone. Hamburg adopted the title “Free and Hanseatic City of Hamburg” a century and a half after the League had ceased to be an active economic or political force. But the idea lived on. You still see it today — all around you. Here. If the Hanseatic ideal hadn’t lived on in the Hamburg psyche, then the Speicherstadt would not have been built here. And this, the HafenCity — it’s another example of Hamburg’s independence and entrepreneurial spirit.’ Bronsted talked with force but, Fabel thought, without genuine passion. He realised he was listening to a party political broadcast. Well, he thought, he had asked for it, after all.

‘Ten, fifteen years ago,’ continued Bronsted, ‘when the rest of Europe was navel-gazing about the future of the world economy, Hamburg saw that China and the Far East, as well as Eastern Europe, offered a massive trading opportunity. So we acted and built dedicated facilities to make the most of that opportunity. Look at what’s happening just a few hundred metres from here in Sandtorhafen. A vast area of the HafenCity devoted exclusively to trade with China. Do you realise that of the ten point eight million container units Hamburg is expected to handle this year, one out of every five of those containers will be traffic to or from China? My politics are simple. Hamburg needs the freedom and independence to build on her successes, to build alliances with other cities in Scandinavia and the Baltic and together to outclass every other trading location in the world.’

‘All good in theory,’ said Fabel. ‘But, like you said, ultimately the Hanseatic League failed.’

‘It lasted in one form or another for nearly three hundred years, Herr Fabel. It was a superpower within Europe. A mercantile rather than a military superpower. It had military might, but it hardly ever used it. War is bad for business. I think that’s a pretty good model for the future of Europe.’

‘But you’re a Dane,’ said Karin Vestergaard. ‘A German Dane, admittedly, but you know that unbridled capitalism just doesn’t fit with the Danish character. Yet you include Copenhagen in your plans.’

‘This isn’t unbridled capitalism,’ said Bronsted. ‘It’s about generating great wealth and sharing it. Capitalism with social democracy. And nothing could be more Danish as a concept.’

‘I’m sure you didn’t come here just to discuss the politics of the NeuHansa Party,’ Langstrup said. Fabel noticed Langstrup had small, hard eyes.

‘Could you tell me what you know about Armin Lensch?’ Fabel asked Bronsted. ‘The young man who worked in your export department.’

‘Nothing.’ Bronsted shrugged. ‘I have over a thousand employees. Obviously I was distressed to hear about his death. And the manner of his death. But I wasn’t even aware of his name until I was informed that the latest victim of the Angel of St Pauli was an employee.’

‘Would you mind if we had a look at Lensch’s recent workload?’ asked Gessler. He smiled his ladykiller’s charming smile. ‘It might help us.’

‘Help you how?’ asked Langstrup. ‘His death was clearly not connected to his work.’

‘Oh,’ said Fabel. ‘And how can you be so sure of that?’

‘He was the victim of a random serial killer, for God’s sake.’

‘Not so random, as far as I can see,’ said Fabel without diverting his attention from Gina Bronsted. ‘It is by no means certain that the so-called Angel of St Pauli was responsible for Lensch’s death. And, if you prefer, we can obtain a court order to see his files.’

‘That won’t be necessary,’ said Bronsted and Fabel thought he caught her fire a warning look at Langstrup. As if she was saying: Be seen to cooperate. ‘Just let us know what you need to see.’

‘We won’t know until we see it,’ said Gessler. ‘So we’ll have to look at everything, really.’

‘I saw Gennady Frolov’s yacht, the Snow Queen, moored along the quay. Do you have business dealings with him?’ asked Fabel.

‘The yacht is there because that is the regular mooring for private vessels of that size. But yes, I have had dealings with Herr Frolov. In fact, I have an interest in the Flensburg boatyard that designed and built the Snow Queen.’

‘Vantage North?’ asked Vestergaard.

‘Yes — Vantage North.’ Bronsted made an insincerely impressed face. ‘You’ve done your homework.’

‘And other than your involvement with Vantage North, do you have any other dealings with Frolov?’ asked Fabel.

‘As a matter of fact, we are in the middle of negotiations over a joint project. An environmental project.’

‘Through your company Norivon?’

‘Yes. Why the interest in Herr Frolov?’

‘Do you know Peter Claasens, the export agent?’

‘Of course I do… or did. I heard about his suicide. Claasens Exporting did some work with us. Occasionally.’

‘Did you ever meet him?’

‘Maybe once. Or twice. Official functions, company events or exhibitions, that kind of thing.’ Bronsted smiled politely and held Fabel in her earnest Danish-blue gaze. There it was, he thought: impatience. Annoyance. Just a hint of it, but enough.

‘And you met Jake Westland the night he died?’

‘Before he died, yes. Before his performance. He was supposed to come to a post-event party but didn’t turn up.’

‘What did you talk about?’ asked Vestergaard. Again Fabel noticed how good her newly found German was.

‘The event. The charity — the Sabine Charity — that the concert was in aid of. I really can’t remember: it was the usual meaningless chit-chat.’

‘Did he do or say anything out of the ordinary?’ asked Fabel. ‘Did he seem preoccupied or distracted?’

‘No.’ Bronsted frowned and made too big a show of trying to remember. ‘No, I can’t say that he did.’

‘Okay,’ said Fabel in a way that suggested he was mentally ticking off names on a list. ‘Another employee, another death…’

‘Ralf Sparwald?’ interjected Langstrup who had followed the exchange intently, his small hard eyes on Fabel.

‘Ralf Sparwald,’ repeated Fabel, still focused on Bronsted.

‘I’m afraid I didn’t know him either. I heard about his murder. Is it connected to Armin Lensch’s?’

‘So, to summarise…’ Fabel ignored the question. ‘You didn’t really know Jake Westland, who died within a matter of hours of talking to you; you didn’t really know Armin Lensch who was the next victim in St Pauli and who happened to work for you; you didn’t really know Peter Claasens and met him only a couple of times, but he was an export agent who worked under contract to your company and fell to his death; and you really didn’t know Ralf Sparwald, another of your employees, who was professionally executed in his own home.’