‘Tonight?’ Wagner pursed his lips. ‘I’ll see what I can do. I’m not supposed to take a hard copy out of the office… I’ll come by your hotel about eight.’
‘Thanks. I really appreciate it.’
‘That’s okay, Jan. Just remember what we agreed.’
‘I will,’ said Fabel. ‘See you tonight.’
He watched as Wagner walked towards the west door of the cathedral, past the Mexican tourist who still stood writing notes and studying the stained-glass window detail of a rhinoceros that should not have been there.
4.
Olga Sarapenko spoke to Buslenko on her cellphone while Maria kept her gaze fixed on the monitor screen, focused on the indistinct grainy image of the front door to Molokov’s villa, waiting for Vitrenko to re-emerge.
‘Taras says we’ve to stay put,’ Olga said after she hung up. ‘He’s going over to Lindenthal. It’ll take him at least twenty minutes to get in position. If Vitrenko doesn’t leave before he gets there, Taras will pick up the Lexus and tail it.’
‘Alone. Buslenko’s taking the same risk I did.’
‘Taras knows what he’s doing.’ Olga made an apologetic gesture. ‘Sorry, you know what I mean. He’s specially trained.’
‘So are the people he’s tracking.’ Maria spoke without shifting her attention from the screen.
Olga pulled up a chair next to Maria and they both sat watching the lack of activity. Two guards. One on the door, the other patrolling the house. It seemed an age before Olga’s cellphone rang. The exchange was brief.
‘He’s in position. We have to let him know which way the Lexus turns when it comes out of the gates.’
5.
Fabel ate on the way back to his hotel. He sat in a corner booth on the ground floor cafe-bar of an old brewery close to the cathedral, drinking the traditional Cologne beer which, like the unique dialect of the city, was called Kolsch. Kolsch was always served in the small, narrow, tube-like glasses called Stange and Fabel noticed that as soon as he drained one another was brought without him ordering it. Then he remembered it was a Cologne custom that, unless you placed your drink mat on top of the glass, you would be continually supplied with fresh Kolsch. The way he felt at that moment, Fabel found the arrangement more than satisfactory. He thought about how good it would be to sit in the cosy brewery cafe and get quietly drunk. But of course he wouldn’t. Fabel had never in his life been truly, falling-down drunk. To do so would mean losing control, allowing himself to become subject to the random, the chaotic. A waiter in a long apron appeared and said something completely unintelligible. Fabel stared at him uncomprehendingly then laughed, again remembering Cologne traditions. In a place like this the waiters were called Kobes and spoke in thick Kolsch, usually peppered with colourful phrases. The waiter grinned and repeated his question in High German and Fabel placed his order.
Cologne was so different to Hamburg. Was it possible, Fabel wondered, to change your surroundings and change yourself to suit? If he had been born here, instead of in the North, would he be a different person? The waiter arrived with his meal and a fresh glass of beer and Fabel tried to put it all from his mind. For now.
6.
It had been four hours but Maria had turned down Olga’s offer to take over watching the monitors. It was getting dark and the villa was reduced to a dark geometry broken up by the brightness of the windows. Suddenly two lights came on above the front door, illuminating one of the guards.
‘Tell Buslenko they’re on the move…’ Maria barked at Olga.
The door swung open and Vitrenko’s bodyguard emerged. The Lexus door opened for someone still inside the villa and out of sight. Then a tall dark figure was framed in the bright doorway. Again a shudder of recognition. He might have changed his face, but at this distance some primeval instinct identified a form burned into Maria’s memory. He stopped, his silhouetted head angled. Maria felt ice in her veins: it was as if Vitrenko were looking through the camera, directly at her.
He stepped forward and into the Lexus, out of view.
Maria followed the car as it drifted silently down the drive and out of the gate. ‘They’re turning right.’
The Lexus was gone. Vitrenko was gone.
‘Taras has picked them up,’ said Olga Sarapenko. ‘They’re heading out towards the autobahn. He wants you to help him with the surveillance.’ She tossed Maria a walkie-talkie. ‘Channel three. Taras will guide you in. I’m to man the command post here. I’ll liaise between you and Taras and update you on any developments.’
‘Wouldn’t it be better for you to go?’ asked Maria. She suddenly felt very afraid and ill-equipped to deal with the consequences of catching up with Vitrenko. ‘Aren’t you better trained for this?’
‘I’m just a police officer like you. The difference is that you’re a German police officer. Taras thinks that might be useful if things get complicated.’
‘But I don’t know this city…’
‘We’ve got all the geopositioning kit we need to direct you. Use your own car. You’d better go. Now.’
It was dark, wet and cold. Cologne glittered bleakly in the winter evening. It was a straight drive to Lindenthal through Zollstock and Sulz. The radio lay mute on the passenger seat. After ten minutes and as she approached the Stadtwald park, Maria picked it up.
‘Olga… Olga, can you hear me?’
‘I hear you.’
‘Where am I supposed to go?’
‘I’m on the autobahn heading north…’ It was Buslenko’s voice. ‘Head for the Kreuz Koln-West junction and take the A57 and head north. I’ll let you know if we turn off. Olga, guide Maria through Junkersdorf onto the autobahn. Vitrenko’s car is not moving fast, but Maria won’t catch up to us till we stop. Olga… any idea where this takes us?’
‘Hold on,’ said Olga. There was a pause. ‘It looks like Vitrenko’s heading out of the city. Could be that he’s heading back up north. Hamburg.’
‘Unlikely at this time of night,’ Buslenko said. His voice over the radio a universe away. Maria felt isolated, cocooned by the darkness and the thick, sleety rain against the windscreen. How had she got herself into this situation? She had taken so much on trust with these people. Who was to say that they were who they said they were? She shook the thought from her head: they had saved her life; they had found Maxim Kushnier’s body and disposed of it; they had given her ill-planned, half-assed mission some kind of coherence and at least a hint of viability.
Maria pressed the call button of her radio. ‘Tell me where I’ve got to go…’
7.
The Hotel Linden was only a few minutes from where Cologne’s Hansaring joined the Konrad-Adenauer Ufer which ran along the Rhine’s edge. It somehow gave Fabel hope to sense something of the old Maria in her choice: the Linden’s situation gave her as central a base as possible without being conspicuous. He told the taxi driver to wait for him and trotted up the steps into the hotel’s small lobby. A pretty dark-haired girl smiled at him from behind the reception desk. Her smile gave way to a frown when he showed her his Polizei Hamburg ID card.
‘It’s nothing to worry about,’ he reassured her. ‘I’m just trying to trace someone.’
Fabel showed the receptionist a photograph of Maria. ‘Ring any bells?’
Her frown deepened. ‘I can’t say that it does… but I’ve been off the last week. Let me get the duty manager.’
She disappeared into the office and returned with a man who was too young to wear such a serious expression. There was a hint of suspicion in the way he eyed Fabel.
‘What’s this all about, Herr…?’
‘Principal Chief Commissar Fabel.’ Fabel smiled and held out his ID again. ‘I’m down from Hamburg looking for this woman…’ He paused while the pretty receptionist handed the photograph to the manager. ‘Her name is Maria Klee. Our information suggests that she stayed in this hotel. But she might have used another name.’