Forty Hours: A breath-taking thriller Page 8

  Andersen listened attentively before pulling out his phone and dialing. “Kevin, the Olympic Stadium. Raise the level to Priority 1.” He hung up and then waved at Paul. “Continue!” he urged him.

  After politely waiting a few seconds to see if Andersen wanted to sit down – which he gave no signs of doing – Paul repeated the question that he had asked a few moments before. “Why such a complicated staging?”

  Tromsdorff was the first to formulate a theory. “He seems to want to settle an account of some sort.”

  “That’s possible.” Faris nodded. The same idea had occurred to him. “The crucifixion is a code. He wants to tell us something.”

  He thought back to the caller’s words to him after the subway explosion. “When I asked why he was doing this, he mentioned divine judgment. And a beacon.”

  Tromsdorff was still leaning on the case table. His t-shirt shimmered starkly white. “Remember the exact words!” he ordered.

  Faris closed his eyes. The man’s distorted voice began to whisper inside his head, and Faris quoted him. “I asked him why. And he said, ‘Maybe I want to be a beacon for others.’ The whole time he sounded as though he was about to burst out laughing. And then he said, ‘Find the man on the cross, Faris… Or as-samu alaikum.’”

  “That phrase,” Paul resumed his commentary. “Could it help us at all?”

  “No!” Ben interjected.

  Tromsdorff’s eyebrows rose. “How can you be so sure, Ben?”

  “Because the bastard actually did hack into DigA A, just as we suspected. Our IT team has just sent me an email about that. They hadn’t even noticed it before now. The guy’s really good. And I’m afraid that he knows every detail of the museum case.”

  Ben leaned back and crossed his arms behind his head. He was furious, as everyone could see. He had been personally involved with development of the firewall for the digital file archive. Faris suspected that he felt this attack on their server as a personal affront. “Can IT figure out where the attack originated?” he asked.

  Ben shook his head. “They’re trying, but they probably won’t be able to determine that conclusively before the forty hours are up.” He wrinkled his nose and snorted. “Did I mention that the guy’s really good?” Reluctant admiration had crept into his voice. “And there’s one more thing.” He pointed at the image of the crucified man.

  He let several seconds lapse before continuing. “He isn’t alone.”

  Chapter 9

  Alexander

  The light emanating from the angel hurt his eyes. He hesitated, but then he tried once more to move toward it, even though the angel had forbidden him to do that.

  To his astonishment, he wasn’t told to move back. The light enveloped him, bright and warm. His skin almost prickled a little, just like it had under the strong spotlights they had used for the nativity plays in the church. What … What if this wasn’t some kind of spiritual light?

  Alexander held out his hand.

  What if the light didn’t contain a messenger from God, but merely a person? Hadn’t he thought he recognized a human silhouette? A silhouette without wings?

  Disgusted by himself, he shook his head at his own thoughts and rubbed his temples. Always these terrible thoughts he could never shake! Why was it always harder for him to believe than it was for his father?

  He retreated from the light that beamed from one of the corners beside the door. Instantly, he felt an urge to flee from this low-ceilinged, tiled room, but in order to do that, he would have to walk straight toward the light. And although he already had, to a certain extent, the idea of doing this felt impossible. Trembling, he withdrew even more, to the farthest corner.

  “Why can’t I be like you, Papa?” he asked.

  But the crucified man didn’t reply.

  Alexander lifted his chin. “Angel?”

  Nobody answered him.

  *

  “What do you mean, the culprit isn’t alone?” Faris asked. “How do you know that?”

  Instead of answering, Ben started the video again. “Watch,” he urged his colleagues.

  Faris squinted, but he still couldn’t see what Ben meant. Shannon was the first one who realized what was going on.

  “The zoom function, right?”

  And before Ben could even nod, Faris saw what she meant. The camera was obviously mounted on a tripod, at least it wasn’t wobbling. But it was deliberately zooming in on certain details in the scene – on the crucified man’s face, on his hands as the nails were being driven into them. Somebody must have operated the camera as the man in the hood swung the hammer.

  They didn’t have just one culprit to track down, but two.

  For a while, no one spoke. Paul silently picked up the marker again, writing Two culprits??? on the case wall. He considered what he had written for a moment, then erased the three question marks.

  “Alright then.” Tromsdorff pushed himself away from the case table and began to restlessly pace the room. “Let’s try to expand our profile. At least one of the culprits is smart and organized. He’s capable of planning and implementing something like this. He’s capable of hacking into the DigA A system. We need to assume that he is very deliberate in whatever he decides to do.”

  Shannon cleared her throat. “Can we assume that the caller is Arabic?”

  Tromsdorff now took Paul’s spot at the whiteboard. Next to Paul’s list of motives, he started a new list that he titled Culprits?

  Underneath this word, he quickly jotted down the following list: militant Christian fundamentalists, fanatic single Christian culprit, and Arab ethnicity.

  He was still writing the final word on the list, when the door opened, and a woman entered the War Room.

  Faris suppressed a groan.

  The woman was slender and fairly short. Her black hair was cut into a severe bob, the edges of which looked razor sharp. The ends of her hair brushed gently against her cheeks as she approached the group. Her eyes were discreetly shadowed in gray and silver, but her lips were colored with bright red lipstick. The color on her nails matched that lipstick, and Faris fleetingly saw the severed finger once more. He blinked the image away and concentrated on what was going on around him right now.

  The woman was Dr. Anke Geiger, the supervisor and executive director of Department 1. As such, she was Andersen’s equal, and she was also Robert Tromsdorff’s direct supervisor. The boss of all of them.

  There wasn’t a person in the room who could stand her.

  “Please don’t let me interrupt,” she said. “It’ll be like I’m not even here.” After sitting down on one of the unoccupied chairs, she crossed her legs and tugged down the edge of her dark gray skirt. Her calves looked strong and sinewy, as if they were the result of an extreme running regimen.

  Tromsdorff shifted his shoulders uncomfortably, before pointing at the last of the points on his list. “We were just wondering if we might be dealing with an Arab perpetrator.”

  “Does that mean that we have an Islamist attack on our hands?” Dr. Geiger asked.

  “No,” Faris told her.

  She raised one of her perfectly plucked eyebrows. “No? And what makes you so sure of that?” She studied him defiantly, and just like every other time he had anything to do with her, he had the unpleasant feeling that she didn’t trust him. The way she treated him – coolly and suspiciously – had frequently made him wonder the cause behind the latent Islamophobia that emanated from her.

  He opened his mouth, but at that moment, Geiger’s eyes narrowed to slits. “What are you actually doing here?” she inquired frostily. “If I remember rightly, you’ve been suspended, Mr. Iskander.”

  “He was at the subway station when the bomb went off, Anke,” Tromsdorff stepped in to explain. Wrinkles had appeared at the corners of his mouth, and he looked exhausted. This was the effect that Geiger had on him, every single time they interacted. She had this effect on numerous people.

  “Really?” She coldly examined Faris, who
felt as if he was under a scalpel. “How did that happen?”

  “Anke,” Andersen now cut in. “Don’t you think we should leave these good people to their work?”

  She wanted to say something but reconsidered. “Fine,” she said. “Continue.” This was visibly hard for her to concede. “But please tell me first, Mr. Iskander, why you’re so certain that this has nothing to do with an Islamist attack.”

  Faris took a deep breath. “I’m not totally certain,” he clarified calmly. “All I meant to say is that it would be extremely unusual for an Islamist attacker to use Christian symbolism.”

  Out of the corner of his eye, he saw Andersen nod. “He’s right,” the Department 5 director said to Geiger.

  She didn’t seem happy about this.

  Faris tried to hold back his budding anger. “The caller …”

  “Which caller?” Geiger interrupted.

  Faris saw Ben roll his eyes behind her back. He gulped down a frustrated curse.

  Unlike her predecessor, who had authorized SURV’s creation, Geiger believed that the special unit was superfluous. Just like everyone else in the room, Faris knew that she was always on the lookout for reasons to shut down SURV and to transfer its responsibilities to the state security division. She was a huge fan of the United States’ War against Terrorism, and Faris recalled a sharp argument between Geiger and Tromsdorff about the line that divided military operations and crime prevention – and about the controversial National Defense Authorization Act the US President had signed several years earlier. To date, Tromsdorff had always succeeded at parrying Geiger’s attacks against SURV, thanks to his tactical cleverness and his willingness to make use of his contacts in the highest echelons of the police hierarchy.

  He now informed her, in minimal words, of the calls that Faris had received. He also explained the content of the video and the conclusions that they had already reached.

  “Can anyone in this room confirm Mr. Iskander’s statements?” Geiger asked.

  Andersen stared at her with bewilderment. “What do you mean?”

  “I’m just wondering if anyone else has spoken with this mysterious caller.”

  “No,” Tromsdorff replied. “Why …”

  “So, all we have is Mr. Iskander’s claim ….”

  “Detective Iskander,” Paul interrupted.

  Her head whipped around, and her eyes bore into his momentarily. “As I was saying, all we have is Mr. Iskander’s statement,” she repeated, placing emphasis on the word Mr., “that there even was a caller.”

  “What are you trying to say?” Faris exclaimed. He jumped to his feet but quickly sat back down, feeling dizzy.

  “Yes, Anke, what?” Tromsdorff now intervened. His face was somber, and Faris could see that he was disgusted by his supervisor’s behavior. Time was ticking away on them, and instead of focusing on the case, they had to deal with this woman’s prejudices.

  “Robert,” she sighed, as if speaking to an obtuse child. “I’m about to walk into a press conference because a bomb just went off on the Berlin subway. According to your theories, there is a direct threat to the church conference. What do you think people are going to say when it gets out that we’re letting a …” she broke off.

  Muslim, Faris thought, but Dr. Geiger wasn’t dumb enough to reveal her true feelings. She reconsidered her word choice and continued, “... suspended officer work on the investigation?”

  Faris closed his eyes. She had played her trump card, and she knew it.

  “Have you told your colleagues everything you know?” she asked Faris.

  He nodded reluctantly, only then opening his eyes again. “But I haven’t officially added my information to the case file.”

  “Fine. Then I want you to repeat it one more time and then leave the premises. You are suspended, and you haven’t lost anything by your involvement in this case as a witness.”

  Faris searched Tromsdorff’s face, reading regret there. He had to give his supervisor credit for making one last attempt: “Faris is my best investigator, Anke, and we need him here! You could lift his suspension. You can’t send him away!”

  An arch smile was the only answer Geiger gave him.

  “The caller contacted him, specifically,” Paul now interjected. “There has to be a reason for that.”

  This caused Geiger to glance at Faris’s phone, which was still sitting on the table next to Ben’s laptop. “Is that yours?” she asked Faris.

  He nodded grimly. He knew that if he opened his mouth right now, he would shout at her.

  “Leave it here!” Geiger ordered.

  “What if he calls back?” Ben cut in. “And Faris doesn’t pick up?”

  The question floated in the middle of the room, and everyone stared at Dr. Geiger expectantly. However, before she could reply, Ben’s phone rang. He answered.

  “Yes?” He listened for a second. “That’s what I thought,” he said. Then, immediately, his eyes grew huge. “Say that again!”

  He listened intently to what the person on the other end of the line was saying.

  “Shit,” he cursed. “Thanks, Carla.”

  He hung up and stared at the phone, as if it had suddenly transformed itself into a snake. “That was Carla,” he said, unnecessarily. “It appears that our culprit is using an internet phone service. She was able to trace the call back to a provider in Poland, but that’s all. It’s a dead end. However, the email with the video …” He fell silent, gazing at Faris, his eyes pensive.

  “Keep talking!” Geiger barked.

  “The email with the video the guy sent you, Faris …” Ben swallowed before continuing. “It came from your own home computer!”

  “That’s impossible!”

  Faris didn’t notice that he had jumped to his feet until a wave of dizziness washed over him again, and he had to grab onto the edge of the table. He dropped heavily back into his seat. “That’s simply not possible!” he repeated in confusion.

  Geiger’s eyes bore into his. “I’m truly sorry, Mr. Iskander, but I’m slowly starting to wonder if it isn’t perhaps your intent to obstruct the investigation, instead of helping with it.”

  Shannon and Paul reacted to these words with incredulous laughter.

  “I didn’t send myself that email!” Faris shouted. “That’s …”

  But Geiger interrupted him. “Determining that isn’t a priority right now. We’ll deal with you later. We have a bomber to find!” She glanced toward the door. “Make your statement, and then leave.”

  Faris tried to catch Tromsdorff’s eyes, but at that moment, as he was about to speak, something overcame him. A flashback washed over him, a billow of fire and pain. Unable to fight it, he doubled over and wheezed in agony. The attack vanished as quickly as it had hit, but the brief moment had been enough. Geiger had seen it.

  And she understood what had happened. “You’re a ticking time bomb, Iskander,” she hissed through tight lips.

  Tromsdorff cleared his throat. “Perhaps it really would be for the best, Faris,” he murmured. “Paul can take your statement.”

  “No,” Geiger disagreed. “I would like someone from the 118 to do it, so we can have a neutral perspective on whatever he has to say.”

  Faris nodded curtly, although he was struggling to keep himself under control. With her last words, she had indirectly accused the SURV team of being biased. Everyone in the War Room was aware of that. Frosty silence spread throughout the space. Faris stood up. “I am not your problem,” he said as calmly as he could.

  He then crossed the room, yanked open the door, and practically dashed down the corridor to the staircase.

  “Faris! Wait!” Tromsdorff’s words echoed down the hallway after him.

  *

  Tromsdorff caught up with him at the lower landing. “Calm down!” he begged. He looked like he had a stomach ulcer. Deep lines ran down from the corners of his mouth.

  “Calm down?” Faris struggled to keep his volume low. “That incompetent bitch!�
�� He pointed upstairs.

  “Faris!” Tromsdorff reached for Faris’s arm and looked directly into his eyes.

  “I didn’t send the message to myself,” he said. “You have to …”

  “I know. Ben will find the proof, I’m sure of that. And when he has it, I will put her hand to the flame and force her to admit that she is the one hindering our investigation, not you. But for the time being, my hands are tied.”

  “I can help you, Robert.” Fury continued to surge through Faris. Anger because he was about to be kicked out the door, forbidden from helping with this case. He clung to that outrage, as he checked his watch. It was already after noon. They had only thirty-six hours to catch a culprit for whom nothing was beyond the pale. Thirty-six hours! Good Lord!

  You are a ticking time bomb, Geiger had claimed.

  He tightened his jaw. He’d be damned if he would prove her right! “Okay,” he said, after taking a deep breath. “Is there any way that I could still help you?”

  “Not officially, but you need to make sure you stay accessible.” Tromsdorff glanced around. “Get yourself a new phone and call Paul so that we have your number. We’ll see what happens after that. First, though, you need to give your statement to the 118.”

  The 118 was one of the murder commissions, and like SURV, it was also currently working on the bomb case. In all likelihood, half of the Berlin police force was probably working on the same thing.

  Tromsdorff waited until Faris nodded.

  “Good,” he then said. “I’ll try to convince Geiger that we need you on the team.”

  Faris listened to the blood rushing in his ears. “What if he calls again, Robert, and I don’t answer?”

  Tromsdorff didn’t know what to say to this. “Let’s hope that we figure out how to handle it by then.”

  “If he sets off another bomb in retaliation, she’ll have …”

  “I know, Faris.”

  “Good grief, can’t you go over her head or something?”