to.
“I mean what can you do about this whole thing,” he said in a low voice. “Say it was bad luck? Or something like, you never know what a druggie will do? Or that police science goes only so far?”
Felix looked across toward the HQ. Franzi was standing motionless there, his arms hanging loosely by his side. The man with the briefcase was pacing in a short tight pattern, talking into his cell.
“So there,” said Speckbauer. “Some stuff in this job, you couldn’t even make it up.”
“Franzi is still operational?” Felix asked.
“Franzi? Was he ever? Even before? I told him I’d been thinking of putting wheels on his shoes, like those kids you see.”
And that exhausted that topic. Edelbacher was tapping at his watch and closing one eye for Felix’s benefit. Felix nodded at him.
“Your mother okay?”
“She is now,” said Felix. “But she freaked.”
“And the lady… ”
Giuliana he meant, Felix realized.
“It’s hard to say. But we’ll see.”
“Ah. She wants you out of harm’s way, let me guess. Back to Uni? ‘Grow up’?’
“You seem to have some experience there.”
“Maybe I do. But it’ll come good for you, no?”
“You decide,” said Felix. “It’s hard to bounce back from stuff like, ‘Next time you’ll be the one shot, idiot.’”
“Ouch,” said Speckbauer. “Does she say it in Italian? The hands going like a kung fu movie?”
Felix gave him a glance and then returned to studying Franzi.
He was like a statue. The man on the phone seemed to buzz around him.
“Why did you park your car off road there that day?”
Speckbauer asked. “In the woods?”
“Well I had a notion that you had some way of telling where the car was. Your gizmos in the trunk of that Passat. The GPS?”
“Did you find it?”
“Find what?”
“I get the point,” said Speckbauer.
“You’re forgetting that I was on your desk as a ‘strange coincidence,’ are you?”
“Nothing personal,” said Speckbauer. “I have a job to do.”
“So you assumed the worst.”
“There’s no polite way to say this,” said Speckbauer, quietly.
“But if your father had told anyone what he’d been doing, it would have been a hell of a lot different. He had copped on to something.”
“You make it sound like a plot.”
“You did yourself no favour by me when you ditched your car in the woods, you know. How do you think that looked to us?”
“I was just going to talk to my grandfather. I had to find out for myself first.”
“Like father, like son, you go your own way first?”
“Do you think my grandfather would have talked to anyone else? You don’t know him then. I brought Gebi up as witness. Isn’t that enough?”
“Come on. You know by now there’s nothing on your father.”
“There was always a question though, in your mind.”
“An accident it stays. That logging truck had nothing to do with Fuchs, or Maier. Or any of that.”
Schroek was now signalling to Felix. Speckbauer pretended not to notice, but Felix turned and began walking toward the entrance to the Gendarmerie kommando.
“And you know they’d found the woman that same evening?” asked Speckbauer. “Stephi Giesl, the barmaid from the pub in Weiz, and her car? It was up at that dumpy house of Fuchs. That’s how cold-blooded those guys are. And she thought she was going for a good time. Whether Fuchs knew what Dravnic had done to her or not, he surely knew he was a goner after he drove the guy up to your grandfather’s. You’re lucky he didn’t go right through you when he tried to make his break.”
“It felt like he did, I tell you.”
“He saved your arsch. He’d have thrown you, thrown anyone, to that guy even your grandfather, with that bullshit he tried.
‘Where are my diamonds?’ were the first words out of the guy’s mouth, according to what I was heard. Is that true?”
“Yes,” said Felix. “My opa thought it was a joke. But then he saw the gun, and the look on Fuchs’ face.”
“But he didn’t screw around when he put his sights on that Dravnic, did he,” said Speckbauer. “One shot. And the guy was even on the move, I heard.”
Their conversation ebbed as an old woman with a small dog went by them.
“How is the old boy anyway?” Speckbauer asked then.
“They kept him overnight, for blood pressure. They expected him to be in shock or something, traumatized. He seems to be fine though. He said these doctors were annoying, standing around asking him stupid questions. My mother’s been up a few times, me too.
Putting stuff together for him.”
“He’s moved already?”
“Yes. He’s famous now. ‘The marksman’ they call him. A lot of people talk to him about it. He says it drives him crazy. But I doubt it.”
From across the street, the man with the briefcase was waving.
Speckbauer watched him as though he were studying a new life form.
“You’d think it was a fire or something,” he murmured.
“You know what they’re going to say in there, don’t you.”
“The SOKO? Maybe. But it’s not the end of the world.”
“It doesn’t bother you?”
“Should it? Did I do something wrong? If you want to know what bothers me, is that I’m missing bits of this whole thing. I just can’t quite wrap up how this went from a layabout like Fuchs and his pissy little gschaftl, to multiple murders. It starts with him driving illegals up to work in the woods for that other guy…”
“Maier.”
“Right if it was just that, or some petty crap around his drug hobby, then he could have kept going forever and probably never been caught.”
Felix nodded. Speckbauer went on in a slow, speculative tone.
“Fuchs,” he said. “Big plan, small brain. There he is in the woods, and those old stories when your grandfather and Hartmann get together, those stories going around in his fat head. So it starts in the woods. And one day he thinks: here are these illegals there breaking their backs for Maier. No doubt some of them have enough words to talk to him. He gets talking. He finds out one or more of them ‘know people’ back home, and that there are already networks and traffic coming through the area or near enough.”
“What you’ve been trying to nail down,” said Felix.
“And what your father might have found out something about too. But these guys in the woods want to make some serious money.
Who wouldn’t? And Fuchs, he thinks: they’re the same people in the old stories of smuggling he hears from your grandfather or Hartmann. Everyone’s on the take down there now, so why not get a piece of the action. Yes, a mastermind at work.”
“You know, we didn’t know anything about that stuff,” said Felix. “What my grandfather did in the schleiche, or going in and out of those DP camps. We heard stories about ‘the scarce times.’
But him running up and down into Yugoslavia then, we hadn’t a clue. It must have been dangerous.”
“Christ yes,” said Speckbauer. “Any DPs they sent back to Tito, he pretty well shot them all. To Tito, they
