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.’
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.’
