The Carnival Master

2.

Fabel blinked at the light that cut slices across the room from between the blinds. His head hurt and his mouth felt thick and furry. He eased himself up onto his elbows. He was alone in a wide, low bed. There was the smell of coffee in the air, but a richer, darker aroma than he was used to. He stared at the poster on the wall opposite him. It was of a landscape that looked as if it belonged to another planet: slender rock towers capped with darker conical stone. A setting or rising sun had painted the towers red-gold and windows had been carved into some, giving the impression that elves or some alien race lived in them.

‘Cappadocia,’ said Tansu as she came in from the kitchen. She was wearing a silk robe which clung to her curves. ‘The Fairy Chimneys. You ever been to Turkey?’ She sat on the edge of the bed and handed him a coffee.

‘Thanks,’ said Fabel. ‘No… I’ve never been. Listen, Tansu…’

She smiled and held her fingers to his lips. ‘Drink your coffee. You’ll feel better. Hangover?’

‘A little… I’m not used to drinking so much.’

‘That’s the thing about Karneval – you can let go a little.’ She stood up decisively. ‘I’m going to take a shower. Help yourself to breakfast.’

‘I’m fine,’ said Fabel. ‘I’d better get on my way soon. I thought I’d buy something for my daughter. A souvenir from Cologne.’

‘You married?’ said Tansu in a way that suggested it didn’t matter to her one way or the other.

‘Divorced.’

‘You’ll be lucky to find a store open. There might be a couple on Hohestrasse.’

The daylight was cold and bright and turned the throbbing in Fabel’s head up a notch or two. When he got back to the hotel, he found the reception staff were all wearing bright red wigs and false noses. He allowed himself the curmudgeonly thought that these people never knew when to stop. He wanted to be home. Back in Hamburg. He wanted to talk to Susanne and put everything behind him. Including Tansu. But first he had to find Maria and bring her home too.

He showered and changed into a fresh cashmere roll-neck and cord trousers. His sports jacket smelled of cigarette smoke and he hung it up outside his wardrobe to air, pulling his coat on before going out again. He tried phoning Susanne at her office but, when he got her voicemail, he decided not to leave a message. He rang Scholz on his mobile: Scholz told Fabel they should meet at the Presidium and have lunch in the canteen. Taxis would be difficult so Scholz would send a patrol car to pick Fabel up.

When Fabel arrived at the Presidium he was guided by security to the car pool, where a vast wheeled structure was in the process of being decorated. Scholz was involved in a heated debate with a tall lean uniformed officer. At least, the debate was heated on Scholz’s side: the uniformed officer leaned against the float and nodded wearily.

‘Bloody Karneval,’ muttered Scholz as he greeted Fabel. ‘Enjoy yourself last night?’

Fabel studied Scholz’s expression for any hint of sarcasm. There was none and Fabel couldn’t help feeling grateful that Scholz had disappeared earlier and had not known what had transpired between Fabel and Tansu.

‘Great. I think we all deserved to celebrate a bit. Are you ready to reinterview Andrea Sandow?’

‘Let’s grab some lunch first.’

As they walked towards the lift, Fabel turned back to look at the float. ‘It looks like some medieval war machine. You could hide an army under that. Maybe you should have made your theme “The Trojan Horse”.’

Scholz’s grim smile revealed that the police Karneval float was not a subject for humour. ‘We’re still getting nothing from Sandow. Prepare yourself for a fruitless afternoon. I’ve actually managed to get a shrink to come in later to do a psych assessment.’

They sat down by the window in the canteen. Fabel had ordered a coffee and split roll with ham. He found it difficult to eat. His hangover combined with an aversion to meat that had grown over the course of this case. He sat at the window that looked out over the alien life of this strange city. His longing to go home was still there, but he knew that he would come back to Cologne. He would have to. It was a city that got under your skin.

‘Listen, Benni,’ he said at last, ‘I’ve kept my side of the bargain. I’ve helped you nail your cannibal. Now it’s your turn. I’m worried about Maria Klee. I need your help to find her. And forget the need to be discreet. I’m going to talk to the Federal Crime Bureau as well. If we don’t find her soon she’s going to end up revealing herself to Vitrenko and get herself killed.’

‘I’m already on it.’ Scholz smiled. ‘You see? I do keep my promises. I’ve sent out uniformed teams to check all the hotels. I’ve had copies made of the photograph you gave me and told the uniforms that she may have dyed her hair black.’

‘Thanks, Benni. I need to get out there too.’

‘I’m going to need you here. At least for the next couple of days, to help me question Andrea Sandow. But that won’t take up all our time, mainly because I don’t think we’re going to get a word out of her. In between we can coordinate the search for Maria.’

After lunch they headed down to the interview room. Andrea Sandow was brought in, washed clean of make-up and with her hair scraped back severely. Her face naked of cosmetics looked even more masculine. Scholz led the questioning, but Andrea never broke her silence and kept her fixed, hard gaze focused on Fabel. After twenty fruitless minutes they gave up.

‘We’ll see what the shrink has to say later today,’ said Scholz. ‘But I have to say that Andrea seems to have something going on with you. It was as if I wasn’t there.’

‘Yeah,’ said Fabel. ‘But I got the idea that my presence was making things worse.’

‘Why don’t you take the rest of the afternoon off? You look pretty washed out after last night.’

‘Maria…’

‘By the time you get back I’ll have chased up the uniforms and we’ll see if we’ve got any leads on her whereabouts,’ said Scholz. ‘In the meantime, why don’t you chill out? After all, you’ve just completed your last murder case.’

Fabel smiled wearily. ‘Maybe you’re right. I could do with a rest.’

Fabel accepted a lift in a patrol car back to his hotel.

‘Can you drop me at the end of Hohestrasse?’ he asked the driver. ‘I’d like to do some shopping.’

Although some stores were open, the spirit of Karneval had seized the city fully and Fabel understood why these were called the ‘Crazy Days’. He quickly gave up hope of finding a souvenir for Gabi, his daughter.

His cellphone rang.

‘I’ve had a report from one of the uniforms,’ said Scholz. ‘It seems that Maria Klee checked out of a second hotel on Saturday the fourth. No joy with any of the other hotels. She seems to have dropped out of sight completely. Are you sure she’s not back in Hamburg?’

‘Hold on a minute…’ A noisy group of street entertainers bustled past and Fabel edged out of their way. ‘No, there’s no way. I’ve got Anna Wolff, one of my team, checking regularly that Maria doesn’t resurface… wait a minute…’ The entertainers had gathered around Fabel, one of them juggling three gold balls. ‘Do you mind?’ said Fabel. ‘I’m trying to have a conversation.’ He noticed that they were dressed all in black, each wearing exactly the same type of mask: not the usual Karneval mask but more like the type worn during the Venetian Carnival: full-face, gold, genderless and empty of expression. The juggler gave a mime-artist shrug and moved back.

‘As I was saying,’ said Fabel, ‘I would have heard if Maria had resurfaced in Hamburg. I’m getting really worried, Benni.’

‘Don’t be – I’ll keep on it.’

Fabel snapped his cellphone shut and the group of entertainers swamped him again. The juggler leaned in close, tilting his blank gold mask from side to side as if examining Fabel.

‘Clear off – I’m not interested.’ Fabel was now annoyed.

‘Want to see a good trick?’ asked the juggler. Fabel thought he detected an accent in the juggler’s voice. Suddenly he felt the others grasp his upper arms tight and push him against the wall.

‘I know a very good trick…’ Still the mime-act tilting of the mask from side to side. ‘I can make a mad-bitch Hamburg cop disappear.’ Fabel struggled but the others, laughing jovially, gripped him tight. He felt a knife point pressed into his side, beneath his ribs. He looked past the masked jugglers at the shoppers walking past in Hohestrasse. There was no help to be called for. He would die before his cry was heard. You always die alone, he thought.

The jugglers did a jester dance in front of him. Fabel couldn’t work out if it was to keep the pretence going for the sake of passers-by, or if it was for his benefit.

‘I can make anyone disappear,’ said the juggler through the gold mask. ‘Anyone. I could make you disappear, right now.’

‘What do you want, Vitrenko?’

‘Why do you think I am Vitrenko? We are many here.’

‘Because you’re an egomaniacal fuck and this is how you get your kicks,’ said Fabel. ‘Because you have to make a big show of everything. Just like the way you killed all those people in Hamburg. Just like the way you made sure I was a witness to you murdering your own father.’

The juggler leaned his mask into Fabel’s face again. ‘Then you know your bitch friend will suffer before she dies. I’ve got her. I want the dossier. Deliver a copy, complete and unexpurgated, or Maria Klee will be delivered to you piece by piece.’

‘I can’t just get a copy of the dossier. It has to be signed out before anyone can even read it.’

‘You’re a resourceful man, Fabel. You are finished with the police – what does it matter to you? But if you fail to deliver a full copy of the dossier to me, I will deliver Maria Klee to you in one-kilo pieces. And I will use all my skill to make sure that she will be alive for most of the butcher work.’

‘When?’ asked Fabel.

‘Let’s keep things festive. Rose Monday. During the processions. Wait on the corner of Komodienstrasse and Tunisstrasse and someone will collect it from you. They will be wearing a mask like this.’

‘I’ll only give it to you.’

‘You don’t even know what I look like now. It could be anyone behind one of these masks.’

‘I’ll know. Just like I knew today. If it isn’t you, then I won’t hand over the dossier.’

The juggler’s laugh was muffled by the mask. ‘You want me to walk into a trap that’s so obvious?’

‘You’re sick enough to see it as a challenge. There’ll be no trap. Give me Maria and we’ll both stay out of your business. For good.’

‘Do not disappoint me, Herr Fabel. If you wish I can have a portion of Frau Klee delivered to your hotel to prove that I have her. And to underline my intent…’

‘I believe you’ve got her. Don’t hurt her and I’ll do as you ask.’

‘Good. But let me warn you that if there is any suggestion of a police presence, Frau Klee will be carved alive. No metaphor. You understand?’

Fabel nodded. He was shoved violently and crashed onto the ground. A couple of passers-by helped him to his feet in time to see the last of the masked men skip into the mass of the crowds.