‘I’m flattered that I seem so important to your investigation,’ said Muller-Voigt, smiling. ‘But I can assure you that I was not the only connection. They knew each other.’
‘Are you sure about that?’
‘Absolutely. Gunter was a strange fellow. Tall and lanky and not much of a talker, but he was active in the student movement. It doesn’t surprise me that the connection didn’t appear on your radar, though. He dropped out of sight after a while. It was as if he lost interest in the movement. But he and Hans-Joachim were both members of the Gaia Collective for a while. As was I.’
‘Oh?’
‘The Gaia Collective was a very short-lived phenomenon, I have to admit. A talking shop more than anything. I gave up on it when it became too… esoteric, I suppose you would say. The political objectivity got muddied with wacky philosophies – Paganism, that kind of thing. The Collective just sort of evaporated. That happened a lot back then.’
‘How well did Hauser and Griebel know each other?’ asked Fabel.
‘Oh, I don’t know. They weren’t friends or anything. Just through the Gaia Collective. They might have met outside, but I wouldn’t know about that. I know that Griebel was highly regarded for his intellect, but I have to say I always found him a very dull fellow. Very earnest and rather one-dimensional… like a lot of the people involved in the movement. And not particularly communicative.’
‘And you’ve had no contact with Griebel since the Gaia Collective days?’
‘None,’ said Muller-Voigt.
‘Who else was involved?’
‘It was a long time ago, Herr Fabel. A lifetime away.’
‘There are bound to be some people you recall.’
Fabel watched Muller-Voigt as he rubbed at his trimmed, greying beard thoughtfully. Fabel found it impossible to get the measure of the man or of how much, if anything, he was holding back.
‘I remember there was a woman I was involved with for a while,’ said Muller-Voigt. ‘Her name was Beate Brandt. I don’t know what happened to her. And Paul Scheibe… he was a Gaia Collective member too.’
‘The architect?’
‘Yes. He has just won a major architectural project in the HafenCity. He is the only person from the group that I still have regular contact with, if you exclude the odd times when I would run into Hans-Joachim. Paul Scheibe was and still is a very talented architect… very innovative in designing minimum-environmental-impact buildings. This latest concept for the Uberseequartier of the HafenCity is inspired.’
Fabel made a note of the names Beate Brandt and Paul Scheibe. ‘Do you remember anyone else?’
‘Not really… not names, anyway. I never really did get into the Gaia Collective, if you know what I mean.’
‘Do you remember if Franz Muhlhaus was involved with the Collective?’
Muller-Voigt looked taken aback by the mention of the name, then his expression became clouded with suspicion. ‘Oh… I see. It’s not my possible connection to the victims that interests you at all, is it? If you’ve come here to question me about Red Franz Muhlhaus because of the false allegations that Ingrid Fischmann has been circulating, then you can get the hell out of my house.’
Fabel held up a hand. ‘Firstly, I am here exclusively because I am trying to establish a connection between the victims. Secondly – and I do assure you of this, Herr Senator – this is a murder inquiry and you will answer all the questions I have for you. I don’t care what your position is: there is a maniac out there mutilating and murdering people who were connected to your circle in the nineteen seventies and nineteen eighties. We can either do this here or at the Presidium, but we’re going to do it.’
Muller-Voigt’s stare was locked on Fabel. Fabel realised that the intensity of the politician’s gaze came not from fury but from the fact that he was appraising Fabel, trying to decide if he was bluffing or not. It was clear that Muller-Voigt had been in too many political tussles to become easily rattled. Fabel found his cool, emotion-free detachment disturbing.
‘I don’t know what you think of me and my type, Herr Chief Commissar.’ Muller-Voigt let the tension ease from his posture and leaned back into the sofa. ‘I mean those of us who were active in the protest movement. But we changed Germany. Many of the liberties, many of the fundamental values and freedoms that everyone takes for granted about our society, are directly attributable to us taking a stand back then. We are nearing a time, if in fact we have not already reached it, when we can again be proud of what it is to be German. A liberal, pacifist nation. We did that, Fabel. My generation. Our protests blew the last dark cobwebs out of the corners of our society. We were the first generation without a direct memory of the war, of the Holocaust, and we made it clear that our Germany was going to have nothing to do with that Germany.
‘I admit I was on the streets. I admit that things got heated. But at the heart of my beliefs lies my pacifism: I don’t believe in doing violence to the Earth and I don’t believe in doing violence to my fellow man. Like I said, in the heat of the moment there were things I did back then that I regret now, but I could never – not then, not now – take a human life for the sake of a political conviction, no matter how strongly held. For me, that is what differentiates me from what went before.’
Muller-Voigt paused, keeping Fabel fixed with his gaze. ‘If there is a question lurking there that you maybe don’t want to ask, then let me answer it for you. Despite Ingrid Fischmann’s insinuations, and despite the political capital that the First Mayor’s wife has sought to make of them, I was not, in any way, involved with the kidnap and murder of Thorsten Wiedler. I had nothing whatsoever to do with it or the group behind it.’
‘Well, like I said, my sole interest is in the connection between the two victims,’ said Fabel. ‘I merely wanted to know if Muhlhaus had been a member of the Gaia Collective.’
‘Good God, no. I think I would remember that.’ Muller-Voigt looked thoughtful for a moment. ‘Although I do understand why you ask. Muhlhaus had a pretty odd perspective on the movement and there were certain similarities between his ideas and those of the Collective. But no… Red Franz Muhlhaus had absolutely no involvement.’
‘Who was the Collective’s leader?’
For a moment Muller-Voigt looked confused by Fabel’s question. ‘There was no leader. It was a collective. Therefore it had a collective leadership.’
They talked for another fifteen minutes before Fabel rose and thanked Muller-Voigt for his time and for being cooperative. In return, Muller-Voigt wished Fabel the best of luck in tracking down the killer.
As Fabel turned out of the sweeping drive and onto the road back to the city, he considered the fact that he now had a point of direct contact between Hans-Joachim Hauser and Gunter Griebel, and he thought back on how open Muller-Voigt had seemed. So why was it, thought Fabel, that he felt as if Muller-Voigt had told him exactly nothing?
As he headed back to Hamburg along the B73, Fabel phoned Werner. He told him about the link between the victims and went through the highlights of what else Muller-Voigt had said to him.
‘I need to talk to this architect, Paul Scheibe,’ he said. ‘Could you get a contact number and arrange something? If you try his practice number, that would probably be best.’
‘Sure, Jan. I’ll get back to you.’
Fabel had just turned onto the A7 and was heading towards the Elbtunnel when his car phone buzzed.
‘Hi, Jan,’ said Werner. ‘I have just had the strangest conversation with the people at Scheibe’s architectural practice. I spoke to his deputy, a guy called Paulsen. He got really quite wound up when I said I was phoning from the Murder Commission… He thought I was phoning because we’d found Scheibe’s body or something. According to Paulsen, Scheibe attended a lunch reception at the Rathaus on Monday and hasn’t been seen since. Apparently the formal launch of this big HafenCity project is being held tonight and they’re worried that he isn’t going to show. Looks like we’ve got a missing person.’