The Valkyrie Song

8

It was, Fabel imagined, pretty much how it would be preparing a set for a movie scene: everything had the semblance of normality, of reality, but nothing was what it seemed. No one was who they were pretending to be.

It was odd to be there, running a major operation a few hundred metres from where he used to live. He knew this area so well.

Fabel, code name Kaiser One, was on the third floor of one of the grand villas on Harvestehuder Weg which looked out over the trees, across the Alsterpark and over the Outer Alster itself. The Polizei Hamburg had been able to secure the permission of the owner, a prominent Hamburg businessman keen to be seen cooperating with the authorities. It was the best vantage point they could find: from here, with the binoculars, Fabel could see almost everything happening within the immediate area of the Fahrdamm. The Fahrdamm was a quay for the small red and white ferries that criss-crossed the Alster, Hamburg’s inner-city lake. Running past the Fahrdamm and along the water’s edge all the way around the Alster was the Alsterpromenade. If she came, she would come along the Alsterpromenade or down the tree-lined avenue leading from Poseldorf to the Fahrdamm. She could park a car there. Fabel saw the official Hamburg City works van sitting to one side of the avenue with a group of park workers standing smoking outside it: the MEK unit he had requested to assist them.

Beside the ferry point was a cafe-bar, closed at this time of day, and on the other side a row of benches where people could sit and contemplate the views across the lake. Fabel’s view of the bench itself was still partly obscured, even in winter, by a tangle of naked tree branches.

A thickset figure with greying hair sat on the bench. Kaiser Two: Werner. Fabel felt a knot in his chest. Werner looked too heavy for Drescher. The Kevlar bulletproof vest was adding to his bulk. What if she didn’t go for it? The Valkyrie had been meeting with Drescher like this for nearly twenty years. What if she recognised the sham from a distance? What if she were just to walk away, realising that Drescher must be either dead or in custody, that her relationship with her control was compromised? The thought of the Valkyrie out there on her own, uncontrolled and untraceable, sent a chill through Fabel.

‘There’s a woman approaching,’ one of the undercover officers radioed in. ‘I think she came in from Milchstrasse.’

Fabel picked out the woman with his binoculars. She was tall and slim but he couldn’t tell her age easily and her hair was hidden by a heavy woollen hat. She was carrying a shoulder bag.

‘She’s heading down onto the path,’ said the officer.

‘Follow her,’ ordered Fabel. ‘Werner, she’s going to approach from your right. Remember what we discussed.’

As Fabel expected, and as they had arranged, Werner didn’t reply by radio. Instead he opened a copy of the Hamburger Morgenpost and turned his back to the approaching woman, resting his arm on the back of the bench as if to prop up the broadsheet newspaper.

‘She’s closing in,’ Fabel said over the radio, using one hand to keep the binoculars trained on her. She wasn’t walking quickly, almost strolling. ‘Herzog Five… close the gap between you and her. I want you ready to assist Kaiser Two if he needs it.’

Fabel could see the officer following her. Further back there was a young woman in jogging gear, using the railings as a bar against which to do stretching exercises. Anna Wolff. Sweeping the binoculars along the path past Werner he could see a man and woman dressed in smart dark coats and business wear, standing having a conversation: both planted police officers. Herzog Five, following the woman, was a young male officer dressed casually in a black-hooded jacket. He had closed the distance between him and the woman. The woman stopped and leaned against the railing at the water’s edge. She seemed to be looking out across the Alster to the distant spires that rose above the city.

‘ Shit,’ said Fabel in English. ‘Don’t stop… don’t stop…’ he said under his breath, willing the officer following the woman to keep walking. He did. He kept his step and pace unbroken and walked straight past her.

‘She’s one hundred metres from the bench,’ the officer said over the radio. ‘I’m going to pass Kaiser Two. There’s a bench twenty metres past him. I’ll sit there and wait.’

‘No,’ said Fabel decisively. ‘Turn up the path towards Milchstrasse and cut back along Harvestehuder Weg. Herzog Four — where are you?’

‘I’m still in position,’ answered Anna Wolff. ‘South-west corner. I have the woman in sight.’

‘Get over there as fast as you can without drawing attention to yourself. Herzog Six and Seven, stay where you are but be ready to move in.’

He watched Anna as she started jogging in the woman’s direction.

‘She’s on the move again,’ said Anna over the radio.

Fabel swept the binoculars along the path.

‘All units, stand by.’

The woman was now less than ten metres from Werner. Five. Two.

She walked past him without so much as a glance in his direction.

‘Do I stick with her?’ asked Anna.

Fabel was still tracking the woman with his binoculars. She greeted a man coming in the opposite direction, looping her arm through his. Fabel watched as the couple turned off the Alsterpromenade and headed off together up the avenue towards Poseldorf.

‘It’s obviously not her. She’s meeting someone.’ He felt his heart sink. He knew then that she wouldn’t be coming. She was probably doing exactly what he was doing at that moment: surveying the scene from a distance, through binoculars, and failing to be convinced by Werner’s unconvincing wig and too bulky frame.

‘Stay sharp,’ Fabel said into his radio. ‘She’s maybe still going to show.’ He scanned the Alsterpromenade, following it from the south, along the water’s edge and up to the Fahrdamm. Nothing. He saw Werner still sitting on the bench. He followed the couple walking arm in arm up the avenue and past the MEK troops dressed as park workers. He noticed the dark Lycra-clad Anna jogging past them.

‘Herzog Four,’ he radioed to Anna. ‘Loop round and take up your previous location.’

Anna didn’t reply.

‘Herzog Four, do you read me?’

‘Stand by…’ Over the radio, he heard Anna breathing hard as she ran. He watched her through the binoculars. She stopped jogging and leaned forward, hands on her knees, as if exhausted from a much longer run than her brief jog. The couple, arm in arm, passed her.

Anna straightened up and pressed her hands into the small of her back, stretching her spine. A casual gesture.

‘She-wolf! She-wolf! She-wolf!’ Anna’s voice over the radio was so urgent and excited that Fabel found himself looking at her casual figure again. Then the adrenalin surged into his system, slowing time. ‘Herzog Four to Kaiser One, I have a visual on She-wolf.’

‘Where? Where is she?’ he shouted into the radio.

‘The couple,’ said Anna. ‘It’s her. I can’t be sure, but I think she’s got the guy at gunpoint. I think she made Kaiser Two and sussed it’s a set-up and just grabbed the guy as a decoy.’

‘Shit.’ Fabel cursed to himself, then pressed the send button to call the MEK unit. ‘Wolf Five — it looks like we have a potential hostage situation.’

‘We heard,’ said the MEK commander. ‘If it is, we’ve got to take her before she gets out of the park and into Poseldorf. Do we go?’

Fabel hesitated. ‘Herzog Four, are you sure it’s She-wolf?’

‘I can’t be positive, Kaiser One. She’s got a tight grip of his arm and he doesn’t look happy. She’s pressed against him and could have a gun in his ribs.’

‘Wolf Five to Kaiser One. Do we go or not?’

Fabel checked Anna through the binoculars. She was still playing the part of a spent jogger. He could see that half of the MEK troops disguised as park workers had disappeared into the back of the van. He followed the couple with the binoculars as they made their unhurried way out of the park. If it wasn’t the Valkyrie, he had nothing to lose. If it was, then she clearly knew they were on to her. She would spot anyone following her into the city. If Fabel let her go unfollowed, she might let her hostage go unharmed. Or not.

The alternative was to try to take her down in the park. The chances of the hostage surviving were not good; nor were the odds against one of the police team being injured or killed.

‘Wolf Five to Kaiser One…’ Fabel could hear the impatience in the MEK commander’s voice. ‘I repeat: do we go or not?’

Fabel lifted the radio to his mouth.