Fabel felt nauseated. The shock and horror of what he and Susanne had been faced with, the drink he had consumed earlier, the cumulative exhaustion of not having slept for two days and the violation of his personal space all combined in a sickening churning in his gut. His apartment was too small to hold everyone and the team stood outside on the landing. Fabel had already had to deal with his neighbours, who were displaying that excited, alarmed curiosity that Fabel had seen at countless crime scenes before. But these were his neighbours. This crime scene was his home.
Fabel was aware that the team had been engaged in some kind of debate out on the landing. Then Maria broke off and came across to him, collecting Grueber on her way.
‘Listen, Chef,’ said Maria. ‘I’ve been talking with the others. You can’t stay here and I think Dr Eckhardt needs some time to recover from all this. You’ll have to stay with one of us for a couple of nights at least. It’s going to take hours to process the scene and afterwards… well, you’re not going to want to stay here. Werner said you can stay with him and his wife, but it would be a bit of a squeeze. Then I talked to Frank about it.’
‘I have a big place over in Osdorf,’ said Grueber. ‘Tons of room. Why don’t you pack a few things? Then you can crash there for as long as you need.’
‘Thanks. Thanks a lot. But I’ll check into a hotel…’
‘I think you should take up Herr Grueber’s offer.’ The voice came from behind Fabel. Criminal Director Horst van Heiden stood at the top of the stairs. Fabel looked startled for a moment. He was pleased that his boss had taken the time to come down in person, and in the middle of the night. Then the significance of it hit him.
‘Are you worried about my expense account?’ Fabel smiled weakly at his own joke.
‘I just think that Herr Grueber’s apartment would be more secure than a hotel. Until we get this maniac, you are under personal protection, Fabel. We’ll put a couple of officers outside Herr Grueber’s place.’ Van Heiden glanced across at Grueber, seeking the formality of his approval. Grueber nodded his assent.
‘Okay,’ said Fabel. ‘Thanks. I’ll get some stuff together later.’
‘That’s decided, then,’ said van Heiden. Grueber took Fabel’s car keys and said that Maria would take him over to his place and he would drive Fabel’s car over once he had finished processing the scene.
‘Thanks, Frank,’ said Fabel. ‘But I’ll have to go into the Presidium first. We need to get a handle on what this all means.’
Van Heiden took Fabel’s elbow and guided him into a corner. Despite the fog of tiredness that seemed to cloud his every thought, Fabel could not help wondering how van Heiden managed to look so well pressed at two in the morning. ‘This is bad, Fabel. I don’t like the way this man is targeting you. Do we know how he got in?’
‘So far forensics have been unable to find any hint of a forced entry. And, as usual with this guy, he’s left practically no trace evidence of his presence at the scene.’ Fabel felt another churn in his gut as he referred to his own home as ‘the scene’.
‘So we don’t know how he got in,’ said van Heiden. ‘And God only knows how he found out where you live.’
‘We’ve got a much more pressing question than that to answer…’ Fabel nodded over to where the bright red dyed hair and skin was still plastered to the glass of the window. ‘And that question is: to whom does that scalp belong?’
2.00 a.m.: Police Presidium, Hamburg
The entire Murder Commission team had turned out. It unnerved Fabel that van Heiden had felt his continued presence was somehow necessary. Everyone wore the unnatural expressions of people who should be exhausted, yet are agitated with an electric nervousness. Fabel himself found it difficult to focus, but was aware that it was up to him to pull the team, and himself, together.
‘Forensics are still processing the scene,’ he said. ‘But we all know that we’re only going to get whatever this guy decides he wants us to get. This scene differs from the others in two respects. Firstly, we have a scalp but no body. And there has to be a body somewhere. Secondly, we now know for sure that this killer is using these scalps to send a message. In this case directed at me. Some kind of warning or threat. So, if we follow the logic, the scalps displayed at the other scenes were intended to send out a message. But to whom?’
‘To us?’ Anna Wolff sat slumped in a chair. Her face was naked of its usual lipstick and make-up and looked pale and tired under her shock of black hair. ‘Maybe he feels he’s taunting the police with them. After all, we’ve been in similar territory before. And the fact that he’s used one of our homes as a showplace would seem to support that.’
‘I don’t know,’ said Fabel. ‘If it were just the scalps, maybe. But this thing with dying the hair red… if he is talking to us, then he is using a vocabulary that we don’t understand. Maybe, instead of talking to us, this guy is talking through us. I get the feeling that his main audience is someone else.’
‘That’s as may be, but who is this third victim?’ Van Heiden stood up and walked over to the inquiry board. He examined the images of both victims. ‘If this has got something to do with their histories, then we have to assume that we have another victim in their fifties or early sixties lying somewhere.’
‘Unless…’ Anna stood up suddenly as if stung.
‘Unless what?’ asked Fabel.
‘The guy you had in. The potential witness. You don’t think-’
‘Witness?’ Van Heiden looked surprised.
‘Schuler? I doubt it.’ Fabel paused for a moment. He thought about how he had threatened the small-time crook with the spectre of the scalp-taker. It couldn’t be: there was no way the killer could have found out about him. ‘Anna – you and Henk go and check him out, just in case.’
‘What’s this about a witness, Fabel?’ said van Heiden. ‘You didn’t tell me anything about having a witness.’
‘He’s not. It was the guy who stole the bike from Hauser’s place. He saw someone in the apartment, but could only give a partial and pretty vague description.’
After Anna and Henk had left, Fabel took the rest of the team through the case again. There was nothing. No new leads to follow. This killer was so skilled at eliminating his forensic presence from a scene that they were totally dependent upon what they could deduce from the selection of the victims. Which left them nothing other than the suspicion that it was connected to their political pasts.
‘Let’s take a break,’ said Fabel. ‘I think we could all do with a coffee.’
The Presidium canteen was all but deserted. A couple of uniformed-branch officers sat in the corner, chatting quietly. Fabel, van Heiden, Werner and Maria collected their coffees and made their way across to a table at the opposite end of the canteen from the two uniformed officers. There was an awkward silence.
‘Why did he target you, Fabel?’ asked van Heiden at last.
‘Maybe it’s just to prove that he can,’ said Werner. ‘To show us how clever and resourceful he is. And how dangerous.’
‘Does he seriously think he can frighten off the police? That we’ll drop the case?’
‘Of course not,’ said Fabel. ‘But I do think that Werner has a point. I got this odd phone call in the car the other day. At the time I thought it was a hoax. But I’m pretty sure it was our guy. Maybe he feels he can compromise my effectiveness. Shake me up a bit, as it were. He’s bloody well succeeded. Maybe he even hopes that I’ll be taken off the case if he makes my involvement more personal.’
Another silence. Fabel suddenly wished that he was alone. He needed time to think. He needed to sleep first, then think. A pressure seemed to build in his head. He found that van Heiden’s presence, no matter how well meant, stifled his thought processes. Fabel sipped at his coffee and it tasted bitter and gritty in his mouth. The pressure in his head grew and he felt hot and sweaty. Dirty.