Andrea wasn’t too fond of the doctor, either. He was an arrogant, unsmiling little man who did not speak to Andrea other than to order her to hold out her arm.
‘When will I get the results?’ asked Andrea with a smile, although she felt like twisting the smug little doctor’s head from his shoulders.
‘ You don’t get the results. They go directly to the governing body. They will advise you of the results. But I do give you half of each sample so that you may have them tested independently should you wish to contest the results.’
Andrea crushed the impulse to smash her manicured fist into the smug face. ‘There won’t be anything to contest.’
The doctor stood up, placing his accoutrements back into his case. ‘My dear lady, I am a physician. I have been involved in testing for the governing bodies of a number of sporting organisations. And I will tell you something that is an absolute and undeniable medical fact – not an opinion, a fact – and it is this: muscular hypertrophy is a male phenomenon. Specifically muscular hypertrophy such as yours. Women can build muscle through weight training, but to a much lesser degree. Only men can achieve the kind of muscle mass you have developed without resorting to banned substances. Even men in middle age lose the mass and definition capacity they had in youth. Why? Because their testosterone levels begin to sink. Testosterone, Frau Sandow. The kind of quantities that only occur naturally in younger men. Men have nearly ten times the testosterone level of women.’
‘Are you accusing me of cheating?’ The smile had now gone from Andrea’s lips. Her muscle-widened jaw set hard.
‘I am accusing no one of anything. I am merely stating a medical fact. You could not have achieved your build without taking considerable quantities of testosterone. All this test will ascertain is if there is sufficient in your system to test positive. But, I dare say, you have calculated it all out. I mean, with this competition coming up.’
Andrea stood up suddenly, raw anger burning in her gut. The doctor snapped shut his bag, unperturbed. ‘Unusually high levels of aggression are a common side effect, Frau Sandow.’ He looked her up and down. ‘And I have to say you are a singularly unhealthy individual. I can tell from your halitosis, the dandruff from your scalp and the inflamed rims of your eyes that you are very seriously dehydrated. Please take my advice as a physician: take fluids, and plenty of them.’
Andrea pulled herself to her maximum height, drawing in her abdomen and flexing her shoulders. ‘I suppose you think this is being unfit?’ she laughed.
‘As a matter of fact, I do. You have already done serious harm to your internal organs. The regular dehydration alone will have done God knows what to your liver and kidneys. My guess is, Frau Sandow, that you have used testosterone as the base of a steroid stack. But given your pronounced vascularity,’ he said, pointing to the veins bulging on her forearms and biceps, ‘my guess is that you thought you could get away with using boldenone. The bad news is that boldenone has a detectable half-life of nearly six months.’
‘What you don’t know,’ Andrea smiled masculinely, ‘is that I am infinitely more knowledgeable about human physiology than you imagine. Like I said, you won’t find anything in those tests. And what if I have taken steroids in the past? It should be legal. It’s part of what we do, like a high-protein diet.’
The doctor and the nurse headed towards the door. Dr Gabriel turned and shook his head mournfully. ‘You are a disgrace to your namesake, Frau Sandow. And I am hoping that Eugene Sandow is no direct ancestor of yours. His vision for this sport was to replicate the ethos of classical gymnasia. To achieve perfect symmetry and balance. To shape – not to misshape. What people like you have done is to take a great sport and turn it into a freak show. As I said, the organising body will notify you of the test results.’
Andrea was left alone with Maxine, who placed an arm around her huge shoulders. ‘Don’t you worry about it, love,’ she said in English. ‘You’ll pass these tests, no problem. What was that old guy going on about, anyway?’
‘Nothing,’ said Andrea and smiled. ‘Nothing at all. Let’s go out on the town tonight, just like you said.’
But deep down inside the dark fire roared. She thought of the pompous little doctor and, worst of all, that snotty cow of a nurse standing there silent, reproachful and so submissive. They were so sure of themselves. But what they didn’t know was that she was as smart as she was strong. There would be nothing to find in the sample.
She would go out on the town tonight with Maxine. But soon, very soon, she was going to have to release the heat of her anger.
12.
While Scholz went into the kitchen to get himself a beer and make Fabel a coffee, Fabel laid the photographs of both victims side by side on the coffee table: images in life and in death.
‘I was talking to this anthropologist before I came down here,’ he called through to the kitchen. ‘He was an expert on the ideal of female beauty through the ages. Not so much what is beautiful but what we regard as beautiful. There was a time when these two women would have matched that ideal perfectly: slightly pear-shaped, slim upper body with a little flesh around the hips and belly. Right up until the First World War, in fact. Then came the flapper, then the hourglass, then the skinny.’
‘So what’s your point?’ Scholz emerged from the kitchen and handed Fabel his coffee.
‘These women had the wrong shape for today. They might have wanted to do something about it.’ Fabel started to rummage through the files.
‘What are you looking for?’ asked Scholz.
‘Gym memberships, diet clubs… any hint that they were considering cosmetic surgery… liposuction, that kind of thing.’
‘But there was nothing really wrong with them…’ Scholz joined the search. ‘I mean, their shapes weren’t that unusually heavy around the backside.’
‘You would be amazed at what lengths women are prepared to go to over the slightest flaw.’
Ten minutes later they had assembled a selection of options, all for Sabine Jordanski. She went to a private gym twice a week, took regular beauty treatments at the salon, went swimming every Wednesday when she had the afternoon off. There was nothing at all for Melissa Schenker.
‘There has to be something.’ Fabel ran his hands through his hair.
‘Maybe Melissa Schenker wasn’t so obsessed with her shape,’ said Scholz. ‘She spent her life in her own little electronic universe where what she looked like didn’t matter. A world without form.’
‘Okay.’ Fabel read more of Melissa’s file. ‘What’s this… The Lords of Misrule?’
‘Her biggest hit. A role-playing computer game she developed. Very complicated. Apparently she was working on a sequel to it when she died.’
There was an image of the game’s cover. Three mythological types – a warrior, a priestess and some kind of warlock – stood on a mountain, a fantasy landscape swirling around them.
‘ The Lords of Misrule…’ Fabel read the English title aloud again. ‘The world turned upside down. The Days of Chaos. The Fool Made King. It’s all very Karneval. Maybe this is where our connection lies. Melissa spent so much of her time in an electronic world, maybe that’s where she crossed paths with our killer and Sabine Jordanski.’
CHAPTER EIGHT
6-9 February
1.