speaking into a walkie-talkie. ‘Do you mean the bridge? Do you mean everything here?’
‘Is it real?’ he repeated, calmer this time but taking deliberate aim along the gun’s barrel.
‘Of course it’s not real!’ Frank was shouting now. ‘It’s just a model. It’s just make-believe.’
The young man’s eyes widened and Frank waited for the sound of the gun. Time had slowed down, each second adrenalin-stretched, and he found himself wondering if he would hear the gun, or whether he would be dead before his brain could register the sound.
‘It’s not real?’ asked the young man, sobbing.
‘No. Of course it’s not.’
Frank flinched as the young man surged forward at him, shoving him to one side and pushing his way through the screams of the crowd and out through the exit.
Suddenly Frank felt his legs give way under him and steadied himself on the handrail. He found himself looking at the Kohlbrandbrucke at the level of the roadway and a hand-painted environmental protester stared back at him defiantly.
Quite appropriately, the offices of Seamark International were in the HafenCity. It was, on the face of it, a modest outfit. The offices were new and, like the rest of the HafenCity, were all about the new century and its promises. They were not, however, particularly big: just a reception and three offices.
‘I’ve been expecting you,’ said Flemming when Fabel and Werner arrived. ‘You better take a seat.’
‘So which is the biggest part of your operation?’ asked Fabel after the receptionist had brought in a tray with coffees. ‘The maritime security or the cult-member deprogramming?’
Flemming smiled. ‘I take it you’ve found out about my hobby?’
‘Rescuing and deprogramming cult members? Yes, I have. An interesting sideline.’
‘I don’t do it for money. If my expenses are covered that’s all I care about. And in some cases not even that. I hate cults. I hate what they do to people.’
‘And is the Pharos Project your particular focus of interest, Herr Flemming?’
‘Of late, probably. We live in strange times, Herr Fabel. Most of the religious and spiritual certainties have fallen by the wayside. Christianity, Marxism, Nationalism… Everything is changing, becoming more technological, globalised, faster. People feel overwhelmed and they’re looking to more and more abstract concepts for some kind of guidance. The Pharos Project is very clever with its pitch, particularly to the vulnerable. My personal belief is that it is the most dangerous cult on the planet.’
‘So Herr Kebir believes Meliha has been recruited and brainwashed?’
‘No, I’m afraid we’re all pretty sure that Meliha has been murdered. She wasn’t an acolyte, she was an infiltrator. But I won’t stop searching for her until we are sure one way or the other. There is always the chance that they have kept her alive somewhere.’
‘Berthold Muller-Voigt was her lover. He was convinced she’d uncovered a secret that would have done massive damage to the Pharos Project. Do you think she was onto something big?’
‘I don’t know,’ Flemming shrugged. ‘It could be. I only came into this after the fact, as it were. But I think it’s entirely possible that she found out something about either the Korn-Pharos Corporation or the Pharos Project. She was totally dedicated to exposing false environmental prophets, from what I’ve been told.’
‘But you’ve had experience of dealing with people who have been involved with the Project?’ asked Werner.
‘We’ve liberated four former members so far. Technically, we’ve broken the law each time but after the rescued member has been “deprogrammed” they have been grateful rather than wanting to press charges. You asked me why I’m so secretive about what we do. I think you are beginning to get an idea of how ruthless Pharos can be. They don’t like losing members; not just because they resent the loss of a revenue stream, but because ex-members are likely to talk about what goes on in the cult.’
‘And the ones you’ve liberated — have they talked?’
‘Yes, but the cult is structured in such a way that each member has a very restricted view of the whole organisation. But, by piecing things together, we’ve built up an idea of some of the more secret aspects of the Project.’
‘Such as?’
‘Such as unregulated experiments in Brain Computer Interface — a branch of neuroscience that just happens to fit in with Dominik Korn’s weird ideas. It’s all about micro-thin sensors implanted in the brains of people with disabilities to connect them to external technology — blind subjects being able to see again through an external artificial eye, amputees having full sensory control over robotic prostheses, that kind of thing. There are even complex versions already developed to help people with specific kinds of paralysis. I’m sure you can see why Dominik Korn, given his condition, has a vested personal interest in funding development of this area.’
Fabel found himself thinking of Johann Reisch, a man desperate for exactly that type of technology. But it had been too late for him.
‘So are you really suggesting that the Pharos Project is carrying out illegal surgery on members in pursuit of a better class of electric wheelchair for Korn?’ he asked.
‘You have to remember that many of the cult’s members are only too willing to take part. “Enhancement” is seen as a step on the path to realising singularity.’
‘God…’ said Fabel. ‘These people are really taken in by this stuff?’
‘No matter how sophisticated their technology or how much cash they’ve got in the pot, the Pharos Project is just another destructive loony cult like any other. And that means the same old tricks. They restrict the calorie intake and the amount of sleep of their members to dull their mental responses. Sometimes even sedate them slightly. It all makes new subjects more amenable to indoctrination. The problem we have is that when we “liberate” one of them, it is, to all intents and purposes, abduction. We hold them against their will in a secret location and use the same kind of brainwashing techniques as the cults we’ve freed them from, except in reverse. Then we introduce them back to their families. That’s usually the end of it, except some cults make an effort to track down ex-members. In the case of the Pharos Project, they use Consolidators — officers of the Consolidation and Compliance Office.’
‘And that’s who you think pushed my car into the Elbe?’
‘I’m certain of it. There are even rumours that some Consolidators have been “augmented” — taken that extra step on the path to becoming consolidated. Special implants to boost hearing, improve sight by giving them infrared vision, that type of crap. Personally I think it’s all cult hype. Even the Pharos Project doesn’t have that kind of technology at its disposal. Yet.’
‘Well,’ said Fabel. ‘I have to say your intelligence gathering is excellent. I mean, you seem to be extremely well informed…’
‘We have to be. We’re up against sophisticated enemies.’
‘Mmm…’ said Fabel thoughtfully. ‘Do you happen to know someone called Fabian Menke? He works for the BfV.’
‘No. Can’t say I do,’ said Flemming, and there was nothing in his expression for Fabel to read. ‘Should I?’
‘No. It’s just that I thought your paths might have crossed.’
They had just left Flemming’s office when Anna Wolff called Fabel on his cellphone.
‘Jan, I think we’ve found Freese.’
‘That was quick.’
‘To be honest, he’s made it pretty easy for us. There’s a guy walking across the Kohlbrandbrucke bridge. He’s taken potshots at passing motorists. It sounds like the same guy who was reported to have waved a gun around at the model-railway museum in the Speicherstadt. From the description, it sounds like Freese.’
Chapter Thirty-Three
The Kohlbrandbrucke was a sweeping arc of road bridge suspended from two 135-metre-high stanchions that gave the impression of inverted giant tuning forks. By the time Fabel got there with Werner, the uniformed branch
