Craig Russell - The Valkyrie Song

Langstrup leaned forward on the sofa, his small, hard eyes smaller and harder. ‘If you have a specific accusation to make against Frau Bronsted, I suggest you make it. But if you continue with these insinuations, then this interview is at an end. And I think you should bear in mind the fact that Frau Bronsted is standing for Principal Mayor…’

Fabel didn’t answer for a moment but watched Gina Bronsted, who remained impassive and silent. ‘Let me get this absolutely clear,’ he said to Langstrup. ‘I am investigating a series of murders and this interview only ends when I say it ends. I am quite happy to make it more formal and move it to the Murder Commission. Secondly, you’re supposed to be in charge of NeuHansa’s security. Did it never strike you as strange that so many people working for or connected to the company are meeting untimely ends? It must be saving your pension fund a fortune.’

‘As a matter of fact it did,’ said Langstrup. ‘We’ve been looking into it. My people have found no link between the company and the deaths. Coincidence. The NeuHansa Group has thousands of employees, hundreds of contractors and subcontractors — it’s not really that much of a stretch.’

Fabel laughed in disbelief. ‘A few years ago, I hunted a serial killer who was obsessed with fairy tales. I tell you, Herr Langstrup, he was more anchored in reality than you are if you believe that a NeuHansa connection with every murder we are investigating is a coincidence.’

‘Well, not every murder has a NeuHansa connection…’

‘What do you mean?’ asked Fabel.

For a moment Langstrup looked caught off guard. ‘Oh, wait… no, you’re right. I thought the Claasens death wasn’t connected, but of course it is… I forgot he did work for us as an export agent.’

‘I see,’ said Fabel, exchanging a knowing look with Vestergaard.

‘The Chief Commissar has a point,’ Bronsted said to Langstrup. ‘I think we should be doing all that we can to cooperate.’

‘Of course.’ Langstrup smiled dryly.

Fabel asked that Hans Gessler be allowed full access to the company’s files. Bronsted offered predictable assurances that NeuHansa would do all it could to aid the investigation and instructed Langstrup to give Gessler anything he needed.

‘One more thing, Frau Bronsted,’ said Fabel. ‘Does the name Valkyrie mean anything to you?’ He watched her face for any reaction or recognition. All he got was a frown.

‘I don’t understand… I mean, of course it does, Germanic mythology, Wagner, that kind of thing… and of course the plot to kill Hitler-’

‘No, I mean in a business context. Does NeuHansa have anything to do with anything or anyone using that name?’

Bronsted pursed her lips and shook her head. ‘I can’t say that we do. I’ll check it out if you like.’

‘Have you ever heard of any of these women: Margarethe Paulus, Liane Kayser or Anke Wollner?’

‘Can’t say that any of those names ring a bell.’

Fabel could read nothing in Bronsted’s expression. He toyed with the idea of throwing in Georg Drescher’s name to see what kind of reaction it got, but decided against it. That was a lid he wanted to keep on tight for the meantime.

The rest of the interview was devoted to questions about details. About what Ralf Sparwald had been working on; about who else had talked with Westland at the pre-concert party; about the overlap of function between Norivon Environmental Technologies and SkK Biotech. About anything that Fabel thought he might be able to get some kind of reaction to. After about an hour, he stood up and thanked Bronsted for her time.

Once Fabel, Gessler and Vestergaard were outside on the street, Fabel drew a deep breath.

‘Hans,’ he said to Gessler without taking his eyes off the yacht. ‘Every NeuHansa file, every databank, every transaction — I want you all over that company like a rash. I’ll speak to the powers that be and get you all the time and people you need.’

‘I thought you might,’ said Gessler. ‘If there’s something there to be found, we’ll find it. I take it you now know who hired the Valkyrie? Or at least hired her through Drescher?’

‘Langstrup slipped up,’ said Fabel. ‘Of course there’s a murder that is not linked to the NeuHansa Group.’

‘Drescher’s,’ said Vestergaard.

‘Exactly. And we’ve nailed the lid down on that one for the time being. No one knows about it. Which means Langstrup, despite trying to cover it up, was talking about a murder that, as far as he and anyone outside the Murder Commission is concerned, hasn’t happened yet.’

‘The question remains,’ said Vestergaard, ‘whether Langstrup is running his own little empire or if Gina Bronsted herself is behind these killings.’

‘I don’t know,’ said Gessler. ‘Langstrup looks as if he knows how to handle himself. And he looks like he’s had more than one run-in with someone else who can handle themselves. But he just doesn’t strike me as the brains of the outfit.’

‘Me neither,’ said Fabel.

It was nearly the end of the working day. Fabel dropped Gessler off to pick up his car at the Presidium, made a quick call to Gennady Frolov’s office and fixed up an appointment in two days’ time. After doing a quick check with the Commission that nothing had come up while they had been out, Fabel drove Karin Vestergaard back to her hotel.

‘You know what I’m going to ask you, don’t you?’ he said, reverting to English again as they drove through the city centre.

‘I have a pretty good idea.’

‘You have a hell of a nerve, do you know that? I have extended you every professional courtesy. Damn it, I’ve extended personal courtesy and hospitality too. I introduced you to Susanne and you sat through the entire meal allowing us to believe we needed to speak English. I must say, you’re one hell of a fast learner. You seem to have progressed from not understanding a word to being totally bloody fluent in a matter of two weeks.’

‘ Ubung macht den Meister — isn’t that what you say in German? Practice makes perfect?’

Vestergaard was smiling mischievously. It totally disconcerted Fabel: it was the first time, other than brief glimpses during their meal together with Susanne, that he had seen anything like a genuine unguarded expression on her face.

‘I’m sorry, Jan,’ she continued. ‘You’re right, it was deceptive of me. But it really is better for me to speak in English.’

‘You didn’t seem to be struggling back there. Where the hell did you learn to speak German like that?’

‘I was brought up in South Jutland, just north of the border. My father was the opposite of Gina Bronsted: where she’s a Danish German, he was a German Dane. He spoke Sonderjysk dialect and German at home. German was my third language after English at school.’

‘Well, I can see you’ve retained a lot of it.’

‘There’s something else I ought to tell you…’ she said tentatively.

‘Okay, let’s have it.’

‘It wasn’t strictly true, what I told you about never having been to Hamburg before. I worked here during my breaks at university.’

‘Let me guess — to improve your German?’

‘Sorry.’

‘It doesn’t matter in itself, Karin, but we had a deal — how the hell am I to know what else you’ve kept to yourself?’

‘I’ve been totally straight with you, Jan. I just wasn’t sure that you’d be straight with me. I suppose I thought that if you thought I didn’t speak the language…’

‘And I take it by now your mind’s been put at ease?’ Fabel pulled into the semicircle of cobbles in front of the hotel.

‘Yes, it has. We’re on the same side, Jan. I promise you.’