JF05 - The Valkyrie Song (46 page)

Fabel responded by introducing Karin Vestergaard and Hans Gessler. As Gessler had suggested, Fabel didn’t mention that he was from the Polizei Hamburg’s corporate crime division.

On hearing Vestergaard’s name, Gina Brønsted smiled broadly and began speaking in Danish. After a short exchange she turned back to Fabel.

‘I’m sorry, I don’t often get a chance to speak my native language.’

‘If you don’t mind, for Frau Vestergaard’s sake we’ll speak in English.’

‘That’s not necessary,’ said Vestergaard in lightly accented German. ‘I’ll be able to follow what’s said.’

Fabel stared at Vestergaard blankly for a moment. ‘Good …’ he said. He gave a small laugh and shook his head. ‘That will save a lot of time …’

‘I must say, Herr Fabel, that I have a pretty good idea what it is you want to talk to me about. I’ve already been through it all with that annoyingly persistent lady from HansSat TV.’

‘Sylvie Achtenhagen?’ Fabel shook his head. ‘She’s been here?’

‘Pushing her luck. I reminded her that I had a controlling stake in the station she worked for. She’s a very arrogant individual, you know.’

‘You don’t say,’ said Fabel without a hint of irony. At that moment a tall dark-haired man of about forty walked into the room and smiled at everybody. He was slim, but broad across the shoulders. At some point his nose had been broken and there was a faint scar on his forehead, just above the eye. He didn’t look to Fabel like a legal adviser, unless lawsuits in Denmark were settled in a boxing ring. The man introduced himself as Langstrup and sat down.

‘You take care of security for Frau Brønsted?’ asked Fabel.

‘Amongst other things, yes,’ answered Langstrup, without the Danish accent that Fabel had expected. Fabel guessed he was a German Dane like Brønsted herself. ‘With Frau Brønsted’s rising political profile, as well as her success in business, there are sometimes threats to her safety.’

‘There have been threats?’ asked Vestergaard.

‘Potential threats.’

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

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

‘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 Brønsted, 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.’ Brønsted 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 Brønsted, ‘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 Brønsted. ‘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 Brønsted. ‘The young man who worked in your export department.’

‘Nothing.’ Brønsted 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 Brønsted. ‘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 Brønsted 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.’ Brønsted 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.’ Brønsted 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.’ Brønsted 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 Brønsted.

‘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 Brønsted, 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 Brønsted is standing for Principal Mayor …’

Fabel didn’t answer for a moment but watched Gina Brønsted, 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,’ Brønsted 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. Brønsted 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 Brønsted,’ 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?’

Brønsted 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 Brønsted’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.