 
### Shroud Of Deceit

A Heimo Kapeller Novel (Book 1)

By

### Stephen McDaniel

Copyright 2016 by Stephen K. McDaniel

All Rights Reserved

Smashwords Edition, License Notes

This ebook is licensed for your personal enjoyment only. This ebook may not be re-sold or given away to other people. If you would like to share this book with another person, please purchase an additional copy for each recipient. If you're reading this book and did not purchase it, or it was not purchased for your use only, then please return to your favorite ebook retailer and purchase your own copy. Thank you for respecting the hard work of this author
Table of Contents

Authors Note

Chapter 1

Chapter 2

Chapter 3

Chapter 4

Chapter 5

Chapter 6

Chapter 7

Chapter 8

Chapter 9

Chapter 10

Chapter 11

Chapter 12

Chapter 13

Chapter 14

Chapter 15

Chapter 16

Chapter 17

Chapter 18

Chapter 19

Chapter 20

Chapter 21

Chapter 22

Chapter 23

Chapter 24

Chapter 25

Chapter 26

Chapter 27

Chapter 28

Chapter 29

Chapter 30

Chapter 31

Chapter 32

Chapter 33

Chapter 34

Chapter 35

Chapter 36

Chapter 37

Chapter 38

Chapter 39

Chapter 40

Chapter 41

Chapter 42

Chapter 43

Chapter 44

About the Author

Preview: Odyssey Into Darkness
Author's Note

I am indebted to the men and women of the Carinthian Landeskriminalamt who were enormously obliging and accommodating in helping me understand the Austrian Police and Judicial systems. Any and all errors of procedure and function are solely mine.

The Landeskriminalamt (LKA) in each Austrian Province is responsible for investigating all serious crimes. It is the equivalent of the British C.I.D. or the Bureaus of Investigation in U.S. states.

LKA Cobra is an acronym for Police Special Forces units who deal with major incidents such as acts of terrorism.

Carinthia is one of the nine Provinces (states) of Austria. Some of the place names in this story are real, some are fictitious. All the people are fictitious, and any resemblance to anyone living or dead is purely coincidental and not intended.

This one is for:

Sheila - who makes it all happen

Hansi - The Cop's Cop

Lisa - The Muse

### Chapter 1

Heimo Kapeller paced the austere marble corridor in front of the Chief Prosecutor's department and weighed his chances. They were not good. Someone once said that stupidity is the only capital crime - time and place of execution unknown. In his own mind, he stood convicted.

He hoped he'd discovered a trail that would lead to the man he needed to convict. But he'd allowed Mehringer to become aware of his probing, and that had been clumsy as well as stupid. His obsession was swamping his objectivity. At the end of the hallway, he uncurled his hands and blotted them on his trouser legs, then started the return journey.

The heavy oak door of the Prosecutor's office swung inward, and the opening filled with the prodigious bulk of Greta Gabler.

The Secretary offered him a tiny smile. 'They are ready for you, Chief Inspector.'

Heimo retrieved his hat and strode through the door, pausing to peck the woman's cheek. 'Nice perfume, Greta.'

She glowed pink and giggled. 'You're terrible, Heimo.'

'I must be or I wouldn't be here.'

She touched his arm. 'It might not be so bad. Walter doesn't seem too concerned.'

Heimo shrugged and produced a twirl. 'How do I look?'

'Quite dignified except for the cigarettes in your pocket. Give them to me.'

He handed them over, then opened the inner door to the Chief Prosecutor's office. As he stepped in, he wondered who had dreamed up this kangaroo tribunal, and why they were airing an internal police matter in the Justice Building. Walter Meierhofer, his boss, didn't enforce discipline with any of the usual administrative methods. He verbally clawed a miscreant up one side and down the other, levied a punishment, and that was the end of it. Mehringer must have pulled strings to set the state's legal wolfpack on his track.

But he knew if he allowed his disdain to show, he might get his buttons ripped off and his sword broken. And all for nothing.

Unlike the utilitarian cubicles occupied by journeymen prosecutors, Albert Friesacher's high ceilinged workplace attempted a certain shabby grandeur. On Heimo's left, Friesacher's massive Gothic desk squatted like a malevolent toad. A silk Austrian flag on one side and an extra-large photograph of the Republic's president on the other testified to the status of the occupant. The Chief Prosecutor himself was not in evidence.

A threadbare oriental carpet divided the room into two sections. On the right, a vast black conference table posed with the usual decorations of paper, pencils, water and glasses. Heimo stalked to a straight-backed chair ten feet from the table, then turned to look at the satisfied face of Brigadier Herbert Augustin, the head inquisitor.

A woman Heimo had never seen sat on the left. She held herself upright, her hands hidden beneath the polished wooden table, and appraised him through black-framed glasses. Two piles of legal folders and law books massed before her like small battlements, and a tape recorder light blinked on one side. He smiled, hoping he looked confident rather than dry-mouthed and tight chested.

Augustin, the head of the Provincial Police force, sat in the center of the table. He leaned forward and his eyes raked the Chief Inspector. A smile flittered across his face, and he shook his head just once. Heimo seldom saw him except at ceremonies. But the Brigadier was an adroit political animal, and Heimo suspected the man had received pointed suggestions from Mehringer regarding the disposal of trouble.

Colonel Walter Meierhofer lolled next to Augustin. He attempted to repress theatrical yawns while twiddling one of the pencils. Meierhofer understood the political labyrinths as well as Augustin, but he had an analytical brain rather than the Brigadier's sly cunning.

Augustin grunted, 'Sit.'

Heimo sat, wriggled about, straightened his creases, centered his hat on his lap, then looked up. The performance appeared to have worked - Augustin ground his teeth. The woman pushed a button on the tape recorder and murmured into a microphone.

Augustin said, 'This disciplinary hearing is being conducted here rather than in the LKA offices to avoid any suggestion of prejudice or unfairness. I hope you appreciate that, Kapeller.'

'Absolutely, sir.'

And of course, it's harder for the other officers to find out what's going on.

'This young lady is Ms. Neuroth', Augustin said, waving a flipper to his right. 'She is a new Prosecutor on the staff, and I have asked her to assist in the proceedings to ensure all legalities are observed, and to produce a verbatim transcript. Questions?'

Heimo had several, including the first name of Ms. Neuroth whose butterscotch blonde hair interested him. But he shook his head. 'None. At the moment.'

'To proceed then. You are in breach of numerous regulations and policies with regard to your investigation into the murder of Matthias Skolnik. You went off on some tangent and started harassing Vice Governor Mehringer. I still don't understand what the hell you were doing. Do you have any explanation?'

Heimo had given this some thought. His options were limited. If he vomited up the whole story, he'd be out on his ear. If he lied or made up a tale, he would just open another can of worms. So he opted to go with "least said, soonest mended".

'No sir.'

Augustin's eyes almost disappeared in folds of fat as he stared at Heimo. 'Nothing, huh? I'm not buying it. Nobody in his right mind goes after an important official without a reason. Did you think he had information about the Skolnik murder?'

'It was a mistake, sir. I followed a trail, and it went in an unfortunate direction. I never spoke to the Vice Governor or accused him of anything.' Much as I wanted to.

Augustin shook his head like an elephant bothered by a fly. 'Well it's not bloody good enough. You violated procedures in a dozen different ways, and nothing to show for it. You've stepped way over the mark.'

Heimo nodded and glanced at Walter who concentrated on his pencil eraser.

Augustin said, 'I will now ask Ms. Neuroth to cover the main points of the internal investigation.'

The woman stood up and Heimo liked what he saw. Dressed in the inevitable black power suit with a bright slash of Hermes at her throat, she looked crisp and confident. She also looked like a lawyer about to take a witness apart.

She said, 'Good morning, Chief Inspector. I believe we can dispense with most of the formalities. If you have questions or comments, I would ask you hold them until I have finished my presentation.'

She picked up a thick orange folder from the pile and extracted the top sheet. 'During the course of your investigation into the murder of Mr. Skolnik, you talked to the victim's friends, family, and business associates, and you dissected his finances. According to your notes, one of your officers found a set of transactions in the victim's company accounts that did not seem related to his business activities. You thereupon took control of this aspect of the investigation and tried to trace them.'

She peered at him over the top of her glasses, and her eyes were blank. 'According to Colonel Meierhofer, you suspected the transactions were bribes disguised as business expenses. Up to this point, everything was quite in order, although it is not clear why you suspected bribery. Thereafter, details become vague.'

Too polite to say, 'missing entirely.'

'I now approach the issue from the opposite direction. Mr. Mehringer, the Provincial Vice Governor, asked the Chief Prosecutor to look into your conduct of the case. He told Mr. Friesacher your investigation seemed to be probing into areas well outside your remit, and you were asking inappropriate questions of people who had nothing to do with the murder enquiry. The Chief Prosecutor advised Governor Mehringer the Service cannot become involved in police procedural matters unless there is clear evidence you violated the law. But he agreed to contact the Brigadier and to stay abreast of developments.'

Friesacher was also aware extra-legal proceedings like this tribunal were dangerous, open to misinterpretation and not defensible if anything went wrong. Heimo wasn't surprised he'd decided to be elsewhere.

Neuroth cleared her throat. 'At the direction of Mr. Friesacher, I reviewed all the information provided by the police, including your notes and those of your investigative team. I found no evidence you had any reasonable line of enquiry into the affairs of government officials or other prominent people. Please explain what you were doing.' Her voice sharpened and she gripped the file, eyes boring into him.

Augustin leaned forward, and Walter stopped the pencil acrobatics.

Time for some nettle-grasping. 'We found a small book containing financial entries that were not reflected in the business accounts. They seemed to be regular monthly payments in identical amounts, but the information associated with them was coded. So we followed up.'

Neuroth paused, as though calculating. Augustin's color rose out of his tight collar, and he started to resemble underdone pork. Walter froze.

'And what did you find?'

'First, we had to figure out what the codes stood for. Skolnik used a simple substitution cipher, and when we cracked it, we found that the codes were names. We began contacting those people.'

Neuroth said, 'Continue please.'

This was not going to become any more pleasant. He took a breath and stared at Augustin. 'We asked the people we contacted about receiving regular payments from Skolnik. Each denied receiving any money, and all but one denied even knowing Skolnik. Add that up and it looked like bribery.'

'Why assume bribes? They could have been any type of transaction that Mr. Skolnik wanted to account for separately.'

'Because of who the money was paid to. Because there were no associated records of invoices, delivery notes, exchanges of goods and services in the formal accounts like you find in a legitimate business. Just money going to certain people whose names he recorded in code, who had no other definable connection to his business. The same amounts to the same people every month. But maybe he was keeping track of his golf bets.'

Neuroth looked taken aback and Augustin gurgled. Walter's jaw worked as if willing Heimo to shut up.

Neuroth said, 'Why then was none of this in your notes? Why didn't you open a bribery investigation if you thought that was occurring? And why not tell your superiors what you had found?'

He looked at her but said nothing. Then her eyes widened as she caught on. He said, 'No legal proof. That's what I was looking for when everything stopped.'

Augustin surged to his feet. His color deepened from red to purple. 'You do not, I repeat, do not start investigations on your own authority,' he roared. 'We have procedures and protocols that must be observed by all officers, particularly Chief Inspectors. Your conduct is disgraceful!'

Heimo wondered if the old boy was going to have the heart attack everyone expected. The man sank back into his chair and Walter returned to meditating on his pencil. Ms. Neuroth looked like she wanted to be somewhere else.

She said, 'Very well, to conclude, it appears you have violated no laws. You may have failed to follow required procedures, but that is a matter for internal police discipline. Unless there are any other matters pertinent to this enquiry that is all I have.' She sat down.

She'd done it rather well. Augustin wanted to rant, but the window had closed.

Heimo had one question. 'Have you reported to Mehr...to Vice Governor Mehringer yet?'

'No', she said, 'the formal report can only be produced after we finish this proceeding. I will complete the relevant documents and send them to Brigadier Augustin. It's his decision as to what to do, including whether or not to give the information to the Vice Governor.'

'Someone left a message for me this morning. Said they were going to "cash in my chips" if I was still around. Came through the switchboard at the Governor's office. Any idea who it was or what that means?'

Augustin froze as Heimo stared. The lawyer and Meierhofer were looking at the Brigadier as well.

Augustin cleared his throat several times. 'I cannot see the relevance of the question. If you are implying either my office or the Chief Prosecutor would discuss information before completion of this enquiry, I repudiate any such allegation.'

Neuroth cocked her head to one side. Then she looked at Meierhofer to see if he had any questions. But the Colonel had choked after something went down the wrong pipe, and he coughed with a sound like ripping canvas. He waved a negative hand in her direction. 'Are there any further questions?'

A tiny rhythmic squeak from the ceiling fan punctuated the silence. 'I believe we are concluded.'

Augustin grunted. 'Not quite. I am leaving it to Colonel Meierhofer to decide on the exact measures to deal with this unprecedented breach of professional discipline.' He glanced at Meierhofer. 'But I expect them to be severe. Is that understood?'

Walter turned and looked at Augustin for a long moment. Augustin, without being aware of it, leaned back. Walter's voice was as flat as the table. 'Severe. Of course, Brigadier.'

Augustin stood up and glared at Heimo. When he spoke, his voice dropped to a hiss. 'You are relieved from the Skolnik investigation. Stay away from it, all the people involved in it, and do not trouble or approach the Vice Governor for any reason. Or I will have you dismissed.'

Heimo rose to his feet, clicked his heels in the best Prussian manner, executed a precise military left-face and marched toward the door. Meierhofer's rumble followed him. 'My office in fifteen minutes.'

Ms. Gabler's office door opened a half second before he reached it, but he threw a "Sir" over his shoulder before passing through.

Greta scrutinized him, her broad face creased with anxiety. 'How was it?'

He spread his arms. 'As you can see, every shot missed because I am armored in truth and beauty.'

She giggled. 'God, Heimo, where do you come up with that stuff?'

'I have no idea. My mouth and brain often operate with different scripts. Anyway, I won't know until I talk to Walter.'

She frowned. 'Watch your back, young man. They are not squeamish about ways and means to deal with enemies.'

He bowed. 'They better bring lunch. Might take 'em awhile.'

### Chapter 2

Heimo leaned against his Audi and lit a cigarette. Two deep, lung-destroying draws burned it down to the filter. He ground the butt under his heel and lit another.

The muscular April sun bathed the parking area in heat, welcome after a long, frigid winter. Heimo shrugged out of his leather jacket and tossed it on the rear seat. Basking usually settled him, but not today. Sweat prickled his back.

He reckoned they couldn't cashier him - no laws broken. But they could sanction him in other ways that would hamstring his ability to recover. Demotion, transfer, fines, reprimands. He'd never catch Skolnik's killer, or have a chance to nail Mehringer, if he lost command of the Homicide Division.

And he'd forced Walter into a box. Mehringer and Augustin wanted to demonstrate their power to limit investigations and protect their friends. If Walter didn't land on him with both feet that message would not penetrate the police organization and the witch hunt would go on.

Heimo glanced at his watch. Time to find out just how deep he'd stepped in it.

He strode through the main door of the LKA headquarters. Three of his colleagues in the lobby gave him the same raised-eyebrow query, but he shook his head. They would hear about it almost as soon as he did.

The smell of fresh coffee wafted out of the canteen, and he wanted a cup. But coffee required savoring time and a benign view of the universe, and he had neither. Bringing a mug with him might look a little too offhand as though he was taking a reprieve for granted. He always considered nuances when interrogating suspects, but he'd never applied the technique to himself. He walked up the stairs, took a deep breath, then knocked on Walter's door.

'Come!'

A blue haze fogged the room. Walter, leaned back in his chair with his feet on the desk, a cigarette in one hand and his mobile phone in the other. He glanced up at Heimo and poked the cigarette at the sofa.

He turned his attention to whoever was on the phone, and said, 'I have no problem with that, but make sure the evidence is nailed down, and I mean all of it.' He listened a moment. 'Good enough. Regards to Maida.' He thumbed the phone to disconnect the call and swung his feet down.

Heimo sat on the edge of the hard sofa, back straight and hands gripping his knees. He and Walter locked eyes for an awkward second.

Walter said, 'I've ordered the firing squad to unload their weapons.'

Heimo tried a grin, but it never got a proper start and dropped away.

Walter leaned back and regarded his subordinate for several moments without speaking. Heimo took it, but his guts started twisting.

Finally, Walter stretched his neck. 'Smoke if you want to.'

Heimo nodded and lit one.

Walter said, 'I have to admit you surprised me. There are umpteen ways to get information on potential bribery and blackmail, and you seem to have avoiding using any of them. I've seen the evidence and talked to your team, and I understand why you figured Skolnik was bribing someone. But I can't figure out why you made such a mess of it.'

Heimo blew out a lungful of smoke. 'I don't understand it either. I just needed to talk to the people listed in the book to check if they had any connection to Skolnik's murder. The fact that he'd coded the information made me suspicious. And the first two I called were obviously lying, so I charged ahead. Next thing I knew, people with the wrong kind of pull were using it.'

'OK. But you still had time to back off and cover your butt. You didn't. When I got dragged into it, I had no idea what the hell you were doing. They must have thought I'd lost control.'

Heimo closed his eyes. 'I know. I feel like an idiot.'

Walter was silent for a few moments. 'Have you got something on Mehringer? Or are you trying to clean up the province by yourself?'

The ice thinned to millimeters. 'Nothing specific. Until the lid blew off, I wasn't sure he was even connected to the people on the list. But like I said in that circus this morning, I never contacted him or made any accusations.'

If Walter noticed he'd only answered half the question, he said nothing.

'I've thought about that. Maybe they tipped their hand. For Mehringer to intervene when a friend's toes got stepped on is understandable if unethical. But Augustin seemed to be stuck on the idea you were after the man himself. You hadn't mentioned him specifically, so I'm wondering why he felt threatened.'

Heimo knew why, but he shrugged, feigning ignorance.

Walter gazed into the middle distance for a minute. 'I'm suspending you for three months without pay. Not what I want as it leaves me with just two Homicide detectives. But if I don't do something ugly, Augustin will climb on my back and make it worse. Gunther and Sigi have everything they need to continue with Skolnik?'

Heimo's throat tightened, but he nodded.

'OK. Get out of town for a while. Tell the team what's happened, then take off for a week or two and let things settle.' He bent to his paperwork.

Three months. Doing what? Kicking himself in the ass and wallowing around in how unfair it all was? No one had changed the rules to the game - he'd just forgotten them. He could tell himself he wouldn't make the same mistake again.

That was five seconds gone.

He shoved through the door to the Homicide office. The desks were empty, but he saw Inspector Sigrid Brumnig. She'd brewed coffee with the new espresso machine and was staring into the cup as though it had released a vision.

'Morning Sigi', he said. 'Could you brew me a cup?'

The big blonde detective started and turned to look at him. A slow, warm spread across her face. 'Heimo, how are you? Did you eat 'em alive?'

Heimo stared out the window. 'Not quite. Tried, convicted, and sentenced.'

Her mouth dropped open. 'For what, for Christ's sake?'

Heimo grimaced. 'Acting like a rookie, screwing it up sideways, dumping the boss in the shit.'

'I don't get it. What happened?'

He hated to damage her respect, regardless of how little he deserved it. 'I lost contact with reality, Sigi. It's what happens when you start to think this job is about catching bad guys. That's only ten percent. If you forget that, the other ninety percent bites you.'

He turned back to the window. 'So I'm suspended for three months.'

She stared, forgetting the coffee going cold in her hand. 'It's crap, Heimo, political crap.'

Heimo squared up. 'I'm not thrilled about it, but I deserve it. I had no business following that trail like I did and dropping everyone in it. Dumb and dumber. Anyway, you and Gunther are in the hot seat now. Where is the fair-haired boy?'

'He went out to that warehouse Skolnik owned. Wanted to try to get something out of that gorilla that calls himself a logistics manager. Slim hope, but we've got nothing else.'

'Did Halegger's boys have another go at finding the bullet?'

Sigi sipped from her mug and said, 'Yuck. Yeah, they went through the area with a sieve, but came up empty. He still can't be sure that's where the shooting occurred because the ground is so torn up.'

Heimo grimaced. 'And Alex?'

Sigi looked annoyed. 'He apologized when he came in. Said he forgot.'

'Do you believe him?'

'Hard to tell.'

Alex Lampl had been in Homicide for two months. As a trainee, he only conducted investigations under supervision. But he wasn't supposed to need supervision to be the night on call officer. Heimo had known for a month that Lampl didn't have what it took to be a detective. But getting rid of him would not be easy.

Heimo shook his head. 'I don't think I'll deal with him today. Gunther knows the drill.'

Sigi turned to pour her cup out and brew two new ones. Heimo thought about Skolnik for a few minutes, trying to see a thread they'd failed to follow, some piece of evidence they hadn't examined to death. But nothing lit up.

Sigi brought a fresh coffee and handed it to him. She was as tall as he was and she searched his eyes. 'You going to be OK?'

He shrugged. 'Sure. A nice long vacation.'

'No bull, Heimo, I know you. You'll eat yourself up with nothing to do.'

'Not much choice is there.'

'We'll keep you in the loop. No one else has to know. And if we come up with anything new, or any new cases, we'll talk to you.'

He considered that, worried they'd be in trouble if anyone found out. After a while he said, 'Thank you. I mean it.'

He turned away, feeling his eyes pucker, and sat down to clear away mounting paperwork.

The coffee gradually disappeared along with the stack in his in tray, but Gunther hadn't returned. Sigi would pass on the news and Gunther would call him later. He washed out his cup, waved at Sigi and said he'd see her around. Her set, angry face followed him out the door. There was a sliver of comfort when someone shared your pain, but it was a meager thing to hold to.

He headed out to his car trying to think of something worthwhile to do with his now empty day. But no job - no purpose. Pathetic.

He owed his father a visit and today was as good a time as any. Erich Kapeller seemed to be more irascible every time Heimo dropped in. He groused about Heimo wasting his life as a cop, complained that his other son Hugo never visited him, and found fault with everyone he came in contact with. Fighting with the old man about something trivial and meaningless would complete Heimo's day.

He threw his jacket into the car and lit a cigarette. Maybe it was time to quit smoking again. If he went three months, he might kick it for good. Or drive himself around the bend.

Three minutes later, his mobile phone, which he'd left in his jacket, buzzed. He ignored it. It quieted after ten rings, then started up again. He stubbed the cigarette out and fished around in the pocket.

'Kapeller', he said without looking at the screen.

'Get your ass up to my office.'

The phone went dead, and Heimo glanced up to see Walter staring down at him from the second floor. What bloody now, he thought? Mehringer already calling to find out why he hadn't been canned?

He walked back into the building and climbed up to Walter's office. He could hear part of a conversation his boss was having before he got there.

'They're just leaving. ETA is thirty minutes.' Walter dropped the phone into its cradle. Heimo stood in the doorway, and Walter contemplated him, rubbing his jaw. 'I have a small dilemma. Perhaps you can help me.'

Heimo narrowed his eyes. Walter could sometimes be maddeningly oblique. 'Say the word.'

'We have a body. Discovered by a farmer in the hills above Sittersdorf. Halegger and his people are on the way. First report indicates it's a homicide. The question is, should I put you in charge of the investigation?'

Heimo balled his fists but kept his voice low. 'I screwed up the last time, but I don't make a habit of it. Why shouldn't I investigate?'

Walter took a slow breath. 'Because the cause of death may be the same as Skolnik - shot through the back of the head.'

### Chapter 3

The unmarked police car turned off the main highway and climbed a farm road into the forest. Although the surface had once been tarmac, it was now cracked and buckled, and the edges were coming away from the center strip in substantial chunks. A thick overhang of pine and larch shadowed the lane and prevented the sun from doing its work.

Gunther Schalk wrestled the BMW over the bumps, dodging the worst potholes. Heimo crouched in the passenger seat considering possibilities. The deaths of Skolnik and the new victim had to be related. The province recorded only two or three shooting deaths in any single year. Two in two months with the same MO was beyond coincidence.

Heimo and his team had never solved the cui bono problem because Skolnik's death apparently benefited no one. The man had fingers in several unsavory pies, and connections to half the criminal characters in the province. But whenever the detectives identified a likely suspect, the suspect had an unshakable alibi, an unfathomable motive, or both. Heimo and Gunther spent an entire week researching contract killers because the murder looked like a professional hit. They came up empty.

If the same killer was still in business, this time he might have made a mistake. And, at the back of his mind, Heimo knew if he nailed the murderer he could clear his own slate.

Five hundred meters up the hill, they rounded a hairpin curve and saw crime scene tape stretched across the lane. A patrol car was wedged up against the bank, and a uniformed officer stood in front of it, thumbs hooked in his equipment belt. He raised a hand to halt them.

He walked to the driver's side and nodded when he recognized the Homicide inspectors. 'Morning. I'll pull the tape back. The farm is about three hundred meters further up.'

Gunther said, 'Thanks, Klaus. Is the doc here?'

'About ten minutes ago. The Forensics team got here just before him. There's a limited amount of parking in the farmyard because we've taped off most of it.'

Gunther eased the car up the track which deteriorated to dirt. They emerged into a clearing and had their first view of the farm. It lay on a level space perhaps one hundred meters square, with two broad fields running away from it down the hills to the left. Three buildings clustered around a stained, muddy concrete pad. On the left stood an old two-storied house, its ancient yellow plaster flaking off, but crowned by a glossy new tile roof. Opposite the house, a vast wooden barn sagged and appeared to be sliding reluctantly downhill. A machine shed filled with rusty equipment accompanied the barn. The unmistakable aroma of pig shit overlay everything.

Crime tape stretched from the corner of the barn to a rotted fence post, isolating the inhabited area. Halegger had parked the Forensics van next to the side of the house, and the pathologist's small Volvo tucked in behind it. Another uniformed officer, this one female, pointed to a space by the van.

The officer came over and saluted as they got out. 'Hello, sir. Afraid there's not much in the way of parking.'

Heimo said, 'No problem, although it would be more convenient if people died close to parking lots. Were you and your partner first on scene?'

'Yes sir, we were about five kilometers from here when the station called. They told us old Trautheim, he's the farmer, had found a body. And he said it had been shot. So we came up as careful as we could and parked down where the first tape is. Then we blocked everything off.'

Heimo nodded. 'Good, notice anything unusual?'

'Not a thing and we did look. The only marks were from the farm tractor. When we got here, Albert, he's the grandson, was waiting on it. He told us the old man was still up the hill.'

'And no one went back until the Forensic people arrived?'

'We didn't, sir, but Inspector Cervinka did. He walked up that cut over there.'

Heimo stared at her for so long she started to color. Gunther, digging the sterile gear out of the car, stopped. Heimo kept his voice level and said, 'Why is Inspector Cervinka here?'

The officer shifted to her other foot and looked at Heimo's jacket. 'He was with us when we got the call, sir. We were giving him a lift to St. Martin. He said to wait while he went up. Albert showed him the way.'

Heimo recovered. 'Thank you. You've done a good job. We'll get suited up and wait for the word from Forensics.'

She threw an uncertain salute that stopped before it reached her hat and moved back to her post. Heimo swore and went to put on his coveralls.

Gunther finished slipping on his over-boots and said, 'Cervinka's a horse's ass, but he knows better than to contaminate a crime scene.'

Heimo grunted. 'Maybe he thinks he's got fairy feet instead of clodhoppers. If he's buggered anything up, I will have a large piece of him.'

'Could be he hasn't heard you're still in circulation and reckons it's his chance to move up a notch.'

'Not while I'm alive.' Heimo's voice flattened. He had no sense of humor where Cervinka was concerned.

As soon as he zipped up the coveralls, his phone, which he'd left in an inside pocket, buzzed. He fought through three layers of clothes and pulled it out. The caller ID said Halegger.

'Hi, Karl. We're down at the farm ready to come up.'

'Hello, Heimo. We're just about finished. This is not where the victim died, so there isn't much to do.'

'Is Cervinka up there?'

'He is. I've made him stand on a stump - a small one. He hasn't done any damage. Hang on a minute.' Heimo heard voices in the background. 'OK, come on up. We're done with most of the area.'

'On our way.'

The officers trudged across the farmyard, acquiring smears of mud and dung on their pristine white suits, and made for a rutted track at the edge of the forest which wound up into dappled green. It was a steep climb, and they were blowing by the time they reached the top.

The track leveled out after winding round a bramble patch, and they found themselves in a small circular clearing festooned with more crime scene tape. The tree canopy thinned and sunlight stippled the ground in irregular patches. Four men in white coveralls carrying plastic bags surveyed the ground, pausing here and there to collected tiny bits. Several large cases of equipment lay splayed open. Just inside the edge of the cordoned area, a stout man with a huge mustache stood on a stump about forty centimeters off the ground, shifting from foot to foot and looking annoyed. On the right, seated on a pile of cut and trimmed logs, a stubble-whiskered man in a checked shirt and a young lad in a blue hoodie observed the proceedings with interest.

One of the white suited figures knelt on the ground near a small stream. Another detached himself and walked over to Heimo.

Chief Inspector Halegger pulled up his visor, revealing a pencil mustache under a pair of rimless glasses. 'Hi, guys. Afraid we can't tell you much. Victim is a white male. Doc confirms he was shot in the head and the bullet exited through the right eye. Probably the cause of death, but he can't be sure because the body has been buried somewhere for a while, then ended up in the water. We think it was upstream, then washed out in the rains and floated down here. Doc won't even guess at a time of death except it was more than a day ago and less than a year. Not much help.'

'Lovely,' said Heimo. 'Always nice to start an investigation with lots of hard facts. Any idea of the victim's age?'

'Middle aged, say between thirty and sixty, which should narrow it down.'

Gunther grinned. 'Only leaves about ninety percent of the male population.'

Halegger nodded. 'Anyway, you might as well come over. There's nothing here to help us except for the corpse, although we've done the ancillary stuff. Took two partial prints, but I'm not hopeful we'll get much from them. I'll have one of my people work up stream and look for the burial site. The farmer says it's not too wide for the next hundred meters, so maybe we'll get lucky.'

Heimo and Gunther ducked under the tape and squelched through the mud to the figure kneeling next to a lump. The man stood and turned as they approached, pulling his mask off and peeling the suit's hood back.

Dr. Otto Wassnig was compact, with a bald red dome and green granny glasses perched on the end of a stubby nose.

'Hello Heimo, Gunther. We meet again.'

Heimo said, 'Morning, Doc. Karl says it's a dead person, but you won't commit yourself farther than that.'

Wassnig grunted. 'About right. I'll know more when I do the autopsy. Because he was buried, then lay in the water for some time, most of the normal indicators of time of death are useless. Unofficially, the bullet went in about two centimeters to the left of where the spine joins the skull, and it came out at the top of the right eye socket. But it could be a post-mortem injury, and something else killed him. Although why anyone would shoot a corpse is beyond me.'

Heimo thought 'copycat' and clamped his teeth. He sincerely hoped that wasn't the answer.

Wassnig moved to one side. Gunther went around to the feet, Heimo to the head, and they peered at the body. The face, fish-belly white and smeared in mud and detritus, bore a passing resemblance to a man. Enough debris had been brushed away to show the exit wound and a clean-shaven skin. The sodden clothing was black and filthy, although they could see a button- down shirt and tie, and maybe a business suit.

Heimo shook his head. He never quite got used to the idiocy of people who thought they could solve their problems by killing someone. He squatted and studied the face, but there was no tug of recognition.

'No ID I suppose?'

'Nothing on the outside, but I can't search inside his clothes until I get him on the table. Might be something in the inner pockets.'

'Jewelry, watch?'

Wassnig said, 'You're thinking robbery? Doesn't look like it. No rings, but he's wearing a Rolex.'

'Not homeless then. OK, thanks Otto. Are you doing the PM straight away?'

'No, I have one other to do first. I'll try to get to him later today. Call you when I'm ready to start. We'll take him to Ebendorf since the other is already there.'

He and Gunther trudged back to the center of the clearing. Heimo glanced at Cervinka, who by this time had descended from the stump, but still stood inside the crime scene talking to one of the technicians.

'Would you mind getting rid of that asshole? I'm not in the mood for his crap.'

Gunther nodded. 'No sweat. I will be kind but firm, and I won't kick him unless I need to.'

Heimo grinned. 'I'll talk to the farmer, so I'll have my back turned.'

They split and Heimo walked over to the pile of logs where the two sat. The farmer fired up a pipe that looked older than he was. His grandson's eyes were as wide as saucers.

'Good afternoon, sir. I'm Inspector Kapeller. I need to ask you a few questions.'

The old man looked at him but said nothing.

'I know you've answered some of these already. Can you describe what you did this morning, why you were up here and how you discovered the body?'

Trautheim studied Heimo for a while, then nodded. 'Me and Albert come up 'bout ten on the tractor. Needed to cut up these logs and shift 'em down to the wood store. We was just gettin' started when Albert thought he saw somethin' over by the stream. Went over to have a look and the next thing I know'd, he's wading out. I got down off the tractor and went to see what he was doin.' That chap was caught in the eddy where that big pine sticks out.'

'And you pulled him out onto the bank?'

'We did. Looked like he might be gettin' ready to float away.'

'When you called the police station, you told the dispatcher the man had been shot in the head. He's covered in mud. How could you tell?'

Trautheim glanced at his grandson who was following the conversation like a tennis spectator. 'I sent Albert back to the tractor and told him to call you boys. When we pulled this feller out, I seen his eye was missin', so I turned him over. That's when I seen the hole. Seen a lot of 'em, so I know'd what it was.'

Heimo frowned. 'A lot of them? Where?'

Trautheim's head slumped for a long moment. When he spoke, his voice sank to a low monotone. 'Durin' the war. Way the Nazis executed partisans. Always a pistol shot in the back o' the head.'

Albert's mouth opened, and he stared at a grandfather who had become a stranger. Heimo shook his head. It was easy for his generation to forget how often savage armies had contested this ground in the last two wars.

'I take it you've not seen any strangers up here.'

Trautheim, still gripped by memories, looked up. 'No, not through the farm. But they is other roads up this mountain. One is 'bout a kilometer east of here.'

Heimo scanned the clearing. 'Thank you. If anything else comes up, we'll call you. Inspector Halegger and his people will finish here as soon as possible, then you should be able to get back to work.'

Trautheim grunted. Albert put his hand on his grandfather's arm, his face full of questions. Heimo left them to it.

Cervinka had disappeared. Gunther stood by the track talking to the red-faced, sweating mortuary crew. He turned and said, 'They think they can get the body down on....' He gestured at an odd-looking piece of gear that seemed to be a cross between a gurney and a shopping trolley.'

He looked up. 'Too thick to use the helicopter. Trees'd tear up the corpse.'

'OK, let's head back to the shop and get things organized.' He grinned. 'And we'll try to sort this one without treading on any more big toes.'

Gunther rolled his eyes and snorted.

### Chapter 4

Heimo knocked on Walter's door and pushed it open when he heard the deep bellow. On his desk were four stacks of paper. Heimo wondered if he shuffled them like so many decks of cards.

'Ah, the great detective. Have you made an arrest yet?'

He threw a mock salute. 'As soon as I get your OK. And a name and address.'

Walter leaned back and put his feet up on the lower desk drawer. 'What have you got?'

Heimo ran through the information from the crime scene. 'With no ID, there's not much we can do except go through the motions. Wassnig hopes to have the autopsy done this evening, and Halegger has two partial prints. With luck, we might know more in a few hours.'

'Any idea how he got up there?'

'Nothing solid. Best bet is one of the tracks near the farm. Halegger reckons the body didn't float far because the stream is narrow and meanders around a lot. One of his men is working upstream along the bank looking for a grave, and another is investigating a track a kilometer east of the farm. I expect they'll find indications, although how useful they'll be is anyone's guess. We'll start on the preliminaries.'

Walter waved him off and said, 'And I will try to turn four big piles into one little pile. Have fun. And Heimo.'

Heimo stopped in mid-stride.

'Stay away from Mehringer even if you find his fingerprints on the murder weapon.'

Heimo's eyes tightened, but he nodded.

He returned to the office and briefed the team. 'OK, first jobs. Alex, check missing person reports from Austria, starting with the most recent, and see if anything matches the victim. If you don't get a hit, contact the Slovenian and Italian liaison people. Sigi, you start the house to house. There aren't many farms around there, so it shouldn't take long. Use the local boys if you need help and tell Forensics you're in the area. Gunther, you're the command post for the moment. I'll talk with a couple of the other departments and see if they have anything that might relate to this. Questions?'

The heads shook in unison.

'A few thoughts. Anyone on the list of Skolnik's known associates who might fit the vic's description?'

Sigi said, 'I had a quick look and found several, but the description is too sketchy to do more than keep them in mind.'

Heimo nodded. 'Good. To belabor the obvious, either the victim was killed somewhere else, then hauled up the hill, or he met his killer there. Can't do anything with the first one without more information. The second idea assumes the killer and the target needed to meet somewhere private. The victim's wearing what looks like a business suit, so I don't think he went out in the woods for a stroll. That means someone decoyed him up there and almost certainly someone he knew. It also implies the meeting was supposed to be short. And they must have really needed privacy to go so far out of town. Ideas?'

Gunther smoothed his sparse hair. 'Makes more sense than transporting a body. Lot of problems with that. Blood in a car, weight of the body, someone hearing the shot, etcetera.'

Sigi said, 'True, but if it's a decoy, then there's two vehicles to deal with. The killer drives up, then the victim drives up and gets shot. What does the killer do with the guy's car, and how would he get back to pick up his own?'

Heimo agreed. 'Problems any way you look at it. Just keep it in mind. Let's get on with it. Gunther, I'm hoping Karl will get something from those partial prints. Can you chase him up?'

'Will do.'

'And call me when they assign the Prosecutor. I'm hoping it won't be Haffner.' Anna Haffner, an elderly lawyer detested by investigators because her main concern was producing letter-perfect reports, seldom prosecuted violent crimes.

Gunther grinned. 'Don't think Friesacher is dumb enough to put her on it. I'll check with Walter in thirty minutes if he hasn't called.'

Heimo glanced at Alex Lampl, and said, 'Alex, a word please.'

Heimo took Lampl into a small room adjoining the Homicide office that they sometimes used for off-the-record interrogations. He pointed to one chair and took the other himself.

The junior officer's forehead glistened, and he ran a finger around his collar.

Heimo looked at him for a few moments. 'Presumably, you understand you screwed up. What happened?'

Lampl leaned forward. 'God, I'm really sorry Heimo. I checked the duty roster the day before, then I just forgot about it. When I got home, Kendra kind of jumped on me, and we had a bit of a thing. Then the kids came home, and...I just forgot.'

'Where were you during the evening?'

Lampl looked confused. 'Home.'

Heimo shook his head. 'The duty officer tried your home phone twice. No answer.'

Lampl rubbed a hand over his mouth. 'I was home, honestly. The house phone is in the bedroom, but the door was closed. The kids were playing video games, and the TV was turned way up, so I just didn't hear it. Kendra was still upset, and that distracted me. If I hadn't forgotten about being on call, I'd have had the radio with me. Believe me, I'm really upset about this.'

As full of holes as Swiss cheese. 'We have a major investigation starting. I need everyone doing their job. You get one more chance to show me what you've got. Clear?'

'I won't let you down - that's a promise. I'll get straight onto those missing person reports.'

Heimo nodded toward the door. Lampl jumped up and shot through it.

You had to trust your people just like soldiers had to trust their squad mates. He'd have to watch everything Lampl did until the investigation finished, and he hated the idea.

He walked down the hall and realized he hadn't had a cigarette in several hours. Perhaps investigating murders was good for your health.

He headed for the Drugs division. The homicide's details would be discussed during the following morning's general briefing but talking to his colleagues now might trigger a memory that matched his victim.

He stuck his head into his opposite number's office and said, 'Gottfried around?'

The section's duty officer looked up. 'Hi Heimo. No, he's over at the Justice Building. Can I help?'

'Hope so. We've got a white male shot through the back of the head. Looks like he was wearing a suit. He's been dead for a few days, and the MO looks the same as Skolnik. Anybody on your list gone AWOL recently?'

The inspector shook his head. 'No one I'm aware of. Most of the dealers are not suit-wearing types, but it could be someone higher up the food chain. Get me a better description and we'll try to match it.'

'Fair enough.'

The White-Collar Crime detectives told him the same story - no obvious connection between their investigations and the homicide.

The initial stages of a homicide case were often this way. Without hard data, it was difficult to get started. Heimo tried to relax and settle back into the harness of routine.

He pulled his phone out of his jacket and pushed the number four speed dial. It rang six times, then went to message. Heimo kept his voice low. 'Gaby, it's me. I'm on a case, and I'm not sure what my schedule will be. Call you later.'

After he left the message, he realized she hadn't called since the tribunal. Maybe she'd forgotten.

Gabriella Jergitsch worked as a research assistant at the university and volunteered with a few charities. Their relationship meandered along although they seldom spent more than a day or two together in any week. Heimo wondered how two people could be so busy.

He needed information, the kind he couldn't get from normal sources. Most police snitches existed on the fringe of the underworld and purveyed gossip though they tried to give the impression they were major players. He had a better informer that nobody, not even Gunther, knew about.

He punched in her number using a cheap pay-as-you-talk phone.

A voice answered at the second ring. 'I wondered if you'd call. Thirty minutes.' The phone went dead.

Andrea Foscari was what used to be called a madam. He didn't know what they called them now - probably Chief Operating Officer. She ran the biggest brothel in Carinthia. Heimo first met her six months after he joined the LKA as a Vice detective. At that time, she was an expensive escort. For reasons he'd never examined, they somehow clicked.

A sultry brunette with a spectacular figure, she made no excuses about her profession. Heimo never felt inclined to sample her charms, and she'd never made the slightest attempt to vamp him. Almost like brother and sister, he seldom consulted her, but they stayed in touch.

She'd moved up to management two years earlier and saw and heard things the police were never meant to know. But he couldn't tap her often. Many of her clients were Italian mobsters, suspicious of everyone but their own mothers. She and Heimo gave each other a wide berth unless the circumstances were exceptional. He now thought they might be.

Afternoons were a good time for her to be away; business was slack. They usually met at a small suspension bridge twenty-five kilometers from Klagenfurt. There were occasional tourists there in the summer, but none of the locals ever bothered.

When he got to the parking area, he saw her Mercedes parked behind a huge tree. She was standing in the center of the bridge gazing into the distance. He parked at the opposite end and strolled out to join her, checking for observers. She turned toward him as he strolled out, and he was aware again of her almost overpowering sexual allure.

She wore powder blue French-cut trousers and a matching cashmere sweater that molded her curves like skin and screamed expensive. Lustrous dark hair framed her face, notable for its absence of makeup. She held both hands out.

'It's good to see you Heimo. A long time.' Her low voice radiated warmth.

'Andrea, you look better and better. You're blinding.'

'And you are a first-class flatterer. But I won't make you stop. I presume you're looking for information about your dead man?'

It was not the first time, but it surprised him anew that her information was so fast and accurate. He'd learned not to enquire how she came by it.

She smiled at his expression. 'It's not a mystery. One of my customers saw your people going into the forest. He called someone to find out what was happening, then had to tell me about it to impress me.' She laughed. 'Why would he try to impress me, for God's sake?'

Heimo grinned. 'Maybe he was angling for a discount.' He turned to stare down at the stream meandering along the bottom of the ravine. 'Heard anything?'

She linked an arm through his. 'Nothing about this one. Who is it?'

'No identification yet. But he was killed the same way as Skolnik, so they're probably connected.'

She made a face. 'Skolnik was a bastard. He was involved in running girls from the east. Most of it's like slavery. He didn't care so long as he got a cut.'

'Any rumors about who might have wanted him dead? I mean, apart from the obvious?'

She hesitated. 'There might be two, Heimo. One is dangerous - more than the normal dangerous. You have to make sure it doesn't get back to me.'

He turned and studied at her. He could see tiny wrinkles of anxiety around her eyes, and her skin paled beneath the tan.

'Don't tell me if it's difficult. I mean it. I don't want you compromised. We'll figure it out sooner or later anyway.'

She said nothing for a minute. 'One is a man I hear about only through gossip. He's a moneyman, and the gossip says he stays in the background. No details, but where there's money there is always the possibility of killing, yes? The second is Konrad Moser.'

Heimo eyes went wide. 'The one who works for Mehringer? He's a political hack, isn't he?'

Her hand gripped his arm. 'More than that. He's not Austrian, he is Sicilian - a member of the Collaviti mob.'

Heimo whistled. 'Jesus, are you sure? I only know him by reputation, but everything about him seems Austrian.'

Andrea nodded. 'I have my own sources. One of them fell in love with one of my girls, and one thing led to another. He got drunk one night and started babbling. Some of what he told me involved Moser, and this guy was terrified of him. Three months later they found him in a landfill outside Padua - two bullets in the chest.'

Heimo ran a finger alongside his nose. Konrad Moser had been a minor figure in Mehringer's party for several years. His position had something to do with fund-raising, but he wasn't on police radar, and Heimo knew of no connection to Skolnik. On the other hand, if Skolnik supplied prostitutes or drugs to some of the big shots, Moser could be the conduit.

'We've never come across him.' He looked at her. 'Did Skolnik bring drug shipments in from Italy?'

She shrugged. 'He was involved in it. I can give you one other name. I don't think this one had anything to do with killings, he's a low-level fixer. His name's Rinaldi, and he is involved in bringing drugs up from the south. He's Neapolitan and a nastier little rat you would not want to meet. He and Skolnik knew each other. You talk to the Carabinieri and I'll bet they've heard of him.'

'I'm wondering why I didn't talk to you at the beginning of the Skolnik investigation. Might have saved myself a lot of trouble.'

Andrea smiled and squeezed against him. 'How did that work out?'

Everyone must have heard about the tribunal.

'Not too bad, the usual smoke and noise. Mehringer's not happy, but that's nothing new. I'll live.'

'And the beautiful Gabriella?'

'She's still there.'

'But it's not moving forward, is it?'

He stared across the ravine. 'I'm not sure we want it to. Seems OK as it is.'

Andrea shook her coiffure. 'Maybe for her, young Heimo, but not you.'

'Why not me? I'm not looking for anything else.' He grinned and moved his hip into her. 'Otherwise I'd propose to you.'

'Wouldn't work, my dear. I am much too old for you, in experience if not in age. I must go now and run some errands.' Her gaiety dropped away and she took both his hands. 'This could be a bad one, Heimo. Be careful.'

She kissed his cheek and walked back to her car. Heimo watched her, trying to sort out a welter of confusing possibilities. But his phone buzzed and chased speculation away.

The screen showed Wassnig's ID. 'I'm about finished with the first one so I'll start on your chap in thirty minutes. You don't want to miss the opening.'

There were few things worse than pathologist humor.

### Chapter 5

The mortuary at Ebendorf was the nearest facility to the crime scene for an autopsy, one of the few in the area Heimo had never visited. Driving there, he sifted through the information from Andrea, searching for ways to follow up without raising Mehringer's hackles. He could investigate Moser on his own. But, eventually he'd need resources and systems, and everything would come out. He played around with theories as the Audi took him on a scenic swing along the back roads, its windows cracked to let in the velvet warm air.

The mortuary, a painted cinderblock building standing on its own, resembled a bungalow except that it had parking for twenty vehicles. A hearse and the Forensics van sandwiched Wassnig's car between them. Heimo pulled in next to the van and looked at his watch. Just enough time for a cigarette to settle his stomach.

Unlike his American TV counterparts who devoted a good deal of each working week watching bodies being dismembered, Heimo's experiences were limited. He rarely attended autopsies because there was no point. The pathologist and Forensic people collected whatever evidence existed, and delivered it to him via lab reports, photographs, and printouts telling him everything he needed to know.

As a cop, he'd seen ugly death since his first week in uniform. Traffic accidents and domestic violence provided graphic presentations of the ways a human body could be made to resemble strawberry jam. He'd grown the necessary emotional calluses, but never achieved indifference. Somehow, because a post-mortem was so precise and abstract and filled with the noises of tools, it disturbed him more than live people in pain. Why he felt obliged to watch this particular dissection, he could not have said.

He opened the glass front door and followed a sign pointing to 'Clinic', as though one might expect to encounter patients in a waiting room. At the end of a short wide corridor, there were two swing doors, metal-plated on the bottom, glassed on the top and scratched in the middle where countless gurneys had pushed through. He peered in.

The cadaver lay on a steel table, a grotesque lump almost unrecognizable as human. Wassnig and his assistant were tying on fresh gowns. The photographer had set up his camera and tripod, and Karl Halegger murmured into a palm recorder. Heimo elbowed through the door.

Wassnig said, 'Ah Heimo, glad you're here. Let's get on with it, shall we?'

Heimo walked over to stand by Halegger, who nodded. Wassnig stood over the corpse and started work. His own microphone dangled from the ceiling on a long flexible arm, and he began his commentary with a description of the victim. Heimo gazed at nothing in particular, Halegger muttered into his recorder, and the camera flashed at intervals.

The doctor worked through the clothing which he described as being expensive and unlabeled. Heimo made a mental note to enquire about tailors. The pathologist searched pockets, finding nothing until he came to an old-fashioned watch pocket inside the jacket. He looked away while the photographer leaned in for a close up with the camera's flash, then extracted a small white disk. He held it in his palm and peered at it, raising his glasses as he did so. 'It appears to be a piece of paper or card with traces of black ink on one side. The immersion in water has rendered it unreadable. However, we will attempt to recover whatever was on it.' He turned and Halegger held out the inevitable plastic bag. Wassnig resumed his search, delicate fingers plucking at clothing and probing into recesses, but made no further discoveries.

The pathologist described the bullet wound using the maximum amount of technical detail and Latin nomenclature but added nothing substantial to what Heimo already knew. For all practical purposes, it was identical to Skolnik's. No defensive wounds, and no other significant marks on the body. Then Wassnig smiled at his audience and commenced the Y-incision on the torso. Heimo found his gaze once again unfocused in the general direction of the far wall.

Dripping internal organs were removed with quick short incisions and placed in metal pails. Wassnig opened the stomach and said, 'He does not appear to have eaten within the last six hours or so before death. However, the lab can do a more thorough analysis.' He cracked the rib cage and pronounced the heart and lungs in good condition.

Heimo tensed as Wassnig moved to the head. He hated this part. They used a small rotary saw to cut through the skull, and the frequency of the disk was like fingernails on a blackboard. He shoved his hands in his pockets and stretched his neck from side to side trying to relax clenched muscles.

The assistant detached the skullcap and Wassnig started to examine the brain. He paused for a moment, then leaned even closer to inspect the face. Manipulating a tool like a miniature spatula, he opened the nostrils and peered inside aided by a penlight. He straightened and glanced at Heimo. 'Something you might be interested in. This chap has been using cocaine, and I would say frequently. His nasal passages are a mess. I'll tell the tox screening people to see if he had any in his system at the time of death.'

Drugs, drugs. Heimo still needed an ID to be able to go in any direction. But he could find out the latest on the coke trade.

Wassnig continued to cut, poke and remove for thirty minutes before he finished. He turned away and stripped off his gloves, dropping them in yet another pail, and addressed the officers. 'Not much more I can tell you. He was approximately fifty years old, in reasonable health, liver and heart good for his age, no overt signs of any disease. His appendix was removed long ago, and he had some dental work done in the recent past. If we draw a blank with other means, we can try for identification that way. Cause of death is the bullet wound in the head. The body was in the ground and water too long for there to be any evidence of minor defensive cuts or abrasions, and there are no major ones such as broken bones. Time of death is difficult to gauge with any precision. My best estimate is more than three days before he was found and less than ten. It's possible the lab tests may turn up something else, but I doubt they will have any bearing on his death. Questions?'

Heimo looked at Halegger, then they both shook their heads. Halegger said, 'Doc, I'd like to try for a better set of prints. The ones we got at the scene are not as sharp as I'd like.'

Wassnig waved a hand. 'Be my guest.'

Heimo said, 'Thanks, doc. Karl, I'll see you at the office.'

He walked back to the car, lighting up as soon as he cleared the door. His phone buzzed - Gunther.

'Sigi called in. No joy with the neighbors. Only three within easy distance, and no one saw or heard anything. And Alex checked all the missing person lists. No report of anyone matching both description and possible time of death.'

'OK, I'm on my way back. Give you an update when I get there, but there wasn't much to help us.'

He wondered if he'd wasted an hour. But fifty-year-old, well-dressed coke-snorters were not common in the province. If he scraped up a drug connection with Skolnik, so much the better.

But he needed a name.

### Chapter 6

He drove back to Klagenfurt trying to grasp the end of a thread leading somewhere. The fingerprints were the best bet. Dental work would eventually lead to an ID but it might take a lot of time. The clothing and the blank disk fell to the bottom of the pile - they were long shots.

He thought it through again. The two crimes might be unconnected or linked by something other than the method of murder. He could not recall such a coincidence since he'd been in Homicide, nor had he ever heard of one. The second killing could be a copycat. Details of Skolnik's death had been all over the press and television, so maybe someone seized the opportunity to settle a score. Or, even farther out on the spectrum of possibilities, one of the victims might have been killed to confuse the police investigation into the other. He realized one thing - if they solved this case, but got no further with Skolnik, he would remain up the proverbial creek.

At the LKA, he headed for his office hoping the team had turned up something. As he rounded the corner, he ran straight into Wolfgang Tandler, one of the Forensic officers. They bounced off each other, muttering 'Sorry!'

Heimo said, 'Good thing I wasn't carrying a baby.' Then he noticed Tandler's face. The man wore a grin like a small boy with a secret.

'Just coming to find you. We've had some luck with the fingerprints.' He held out a form. It was a set of the digitized fingerprint images obtained in the clearing, followed by a considerable amount of technical jargon relating to them. And, at the bottom of the page under a summary of the parameters used in looking for a match, a single name.

Gerhard Falkner.

Heimo stared at it for a moment. Then he looked at Tandler. 'How sure?'

'Maybe seventy percent. The ones we took at the scene were not great because of the dirt and water. But the system uses everything it can see to try to get a match, and it works on each print individually. This is from both of them, the left thumb and the right index. With a clearer set, we'd be sure.'

Heimo nodded. 'Karl took new ones at the PM. Seventy per cent is good, right?'

Tandler said, 'Not enough to go to court, but enough to make a start. Because we only have one name, I'll run the set Karl brings in against Falkner. If we're right, we'll get confirmation straight away.'

Heimo clapped him on the shoulder. 'You do fine work, my man. Thanks. Karl should be here in a few minutes.' He wheeled, then stopped. No use going off half-cocked.

Gerhard Falkner was a well-known executive whose name and picture appeared in the local press with some frequency, often with provincial politicians and the social elite. Heimo knew nothing specific about him, but if this victim was indeed Falkner, there could be major ructions with the establishment.

He didn't want to be careful - he wanted to charge into the investigation, turn the dogs loose, and the hell with the niceties. But the thought of Walter's exposure and the loss of three month's pay stayed his feet. He turned back to Walter's office.

He knocked, and when there was no answer, peered inside. No one home. He crossed over to the secretary's cubicle and stuck his head in. Marina Schutzer's headphones were clamped over her curls, her fingers dancing on a keyboard. When she saw Heimo, she pressed a button on a tape drive and pulled one earpiece away.

'Hello, Heimo. You've had a busy day.' She looked fresh and crisp while he was anything but.

'Hi, Marina, Walter about?'

She shook her head, red ringlets dancing. 'Nope. Went home about twenty minutes ago. Paper fatigue, I imagine.'

He thanked her and headed down the hall, thumbing his phone and keying Walter's speed dial.

'Heimo, how was the gore?'

Heimo said, 'Gerhard Falkner,' enunciating like a diction student.

An eloquent silence on the other end. Then the word, 'Shit!', followed by 'Five minutes, and wait till I get there.'

The phone went dead before he could reply.

Heimo straggled towards his office, scenarios cascading through his head. As he walked through the door, Sigi glanced up, stopped typing and swiveled around on her chair, saying nothing but her face alight. Gunther did the same. Alex looked over his shoulder but didn't react. Heimo ambled over to the coffee machine, grinning as he stretched out the answer to their unspoken question. He filled a mug, turned and did it the same way he had with Walter. 'Gerhard Falkner.'

The dam burst. Heimo said, 'OK, OK, hang on. I've told Walter and he's coming in. When he gets here, we'll have a little war council and figure out how to do this without touching off any dynamite. Anything from the other enquiries?'

Shrugs and headshakes. Heimo nodded. 'Forensics got a hit on the prints they took at the scene. Halegger is bringing in a better set from the PM to confirm, but they're seventy percent certain it's Falkner. The PM turned up one new item \- the vic had been snorting snow for some time. Keep in mind we haven't come across Falkner's name at all during the Skolnik investigation, so there's no guarantee the two killings are related. It's an obvious point, but we need to stay open-minded and follow the evidence.'

Walter, whose bulk now filled the doorframe, said, 'We certainly do.' He drew a mug of coffee and draped himself over a chair. 'Fill me in.'

Heimo gave him an update but said nothing about Andrea Foscari. He'd keep that under his hat for the time being. While he talked, they heard Halegger chatting in the hallway.

Walter bellowed, 'Karl' and the technician ambled in, grinning.

'Wolfgang told me. You want me to process these prints at the speed of light and get the result to you in the next sixty seconds.'

Walter pointed a massive fingertip and said, 'Bingo.'

Halegger nodded and resumed his journey. Walter turned back to the Homicide detectives. 'This will be a balancing act. With two homicides, we need to catch whoever did them, and quick. Assuming the second victim is Falkner, we have to make at least a token effort to keep the politicos from interfering. One thing works in our favor. When the press finds out, they'll be all over it, and they'll jump on any attempt to muddy the water. But, and I cannot stress this enough, the job is to find the killer or killers, not to run any side issues. Clear?'

Only Alex looked unsure.

'OK, get confirmation from Forensics first, then start tomorrow morning. No point trying to do anything tonight. Heimo, lay it out at morning briefing. I'll talk to the Druggies and see if they have any leads on coke I don't already know about. But there's so much of the stuff around, it'll be almost impossible to tell where it came from unless we get a tip from a snitch. Anything else?'

He stumped out.

Heimo looked around. 'Let's go at this fresh. And please...think about it, but don't discuss it.' He sensed they felt as he did, wanting to get stuck in, wanting to clear away the frustration of the past weeks. But they knew better than to jump the gun, so they shrugged and started clearing their desks.

Gunther said, 'Helga says come over tonight if you're not busy.' Gunther's wife had tried to mother Heimo for years and feeding him was high on her list.

'Thanks, tell her I appreciate it, but I think I'm meeting Gaby.'

'Off you go. I'll be in about seven in the morning.'

Heimo sat in his car and called Gaby. He couldn't remember whether they'd fixed a date or not. She didn't answer, but a few moments later she sent a text, "5 min". He started up and pulled out of the parking spot when his phone buzzed.

Gaby said, 'Hi Heimo. I'm sorry, but I have to go over to Villach tonight.'

'Not a problem. It's been a long day, so I'm going to sink a few and go to bed. Talk to you tomorrow.'

'OK, sleep well.'

Ships in the night. But somehow he wasn't bothered.

### Chapter 7

He drove out of the police compound on a tiny bubble of optimism. Gerhard Falkner opened interesting possibilities. His connections to the movers and shakers, as well as a serious coke habit, created useful levers. Drugs might mean Skolnik. And professional assassins liked the back-of-the-head shot - quick, clean and the victim seldom saw it coming. Falkner could have pissed off the wrong man or organization. There would be no dearth of theories when the news got out.

He maneuvered through evening traffic toward the east side of the city where his father lived. He'd evaded visiting since the previous Saturday, reluctant to have another argument, another round of recriminations. But guilt gradually seeped into him, like a leak in the cellar, until he could no longer ignore it.

Thumbing a window down, he savored the inflow of April air. It smelled crisp and alive, a welcome change from the flat chill of winter and the stuffy staleness of central heating. Although snow still blanketed the Julian Alps to the south, the drab skies of past months evaporated in the sunlight.

It took ten minutes to get to his father's apartment. The building, one of five in a star-shaped configuration, sat back from the street. The units bore the hallmarks of thousands of four and five story blocks constructed across Germany and Austria after the war to replace bombed out homes. They were invariably rectangular, built of reinforced concrete, painted in bland pastels and utilitarian to the point of banality. Despite landscaping, re-painting and flower boxes, they contrived to resemble middle class prisons. Heimo ambled across a sparse lawn toward the corner where his father enjoyed an uncommon luxury, a ground-floor flat with its own outside entrance.

A faint murmur of voices penetrated the entrance. Heimo knocked once, expecting no answer and receiving none. He opened the door and stepped into a room as gloomy as a cave. The only light glared from an enormous television screen dominating one wall. In vibrant color, a fat man with an ill-fitting toupee and a sequined suit waved a microphone and harangued an unseen audience in rapid-fire Italian. The set's volume was low, which was fortunate as the MC appeared to be screaming. Erich Kapeller sat facing the screen in a lavish reclining armchair. A blanket enveloped his legs, and he clutched the TV remote control in one hand. The channel changed as Heimo entered, but Erich did not acknowledge his son's presence.

'Dad, how are you?' Heimo said.

'What difference does it make?' Somewhere between a grunt and a growl.

'Might make a lot of difference if you got your ass out of that chair and into the sun for a change.'

The silence thickened for a while. 'Doubt it.'

'Never know till you try. This place feels like a rat hole. I'm opening the curtains.'

'Leave 'em alone. Can't see the damn TV in the light.'

'Good, it's all crap anyway.' He ripped the drapes open on one side of the living room and sun flooded through. When he turned, Erich glared at him, aiming the remote as though he wanted to switch his son off.

'What the hell are you doing? This is my house. If you don't like the way I live, get out.'

'I don't like it, but neither of us has a choice.' He almost added that he wished he could dump the responsibility.

Heimo paid for much of his father's upkeep, and the expenses made a tidy hole in his salary. And that salary was still in danger of a three-month hiatus.

'The health nurse is always telling you to get some exercise, go out and take a stroll. Winter is over, the weather is great. Why sit around in here like a mole?'

'I'll do what I want.'

Erich turned back to the TV. He switched the channel again and thumbed the sound up to a roar to blot out his son's prodding. When he pulled the blanket up to his chest, the hand with the remote trembled.

Someone started pounding on the door although it was difficult to hear it over the TV's clamor. Heimo opened it. A woman of about sixty dressed in slacks and a fuzzy rolled neck sweater stood on the step. Heimo recognized her, a Mrs. Kleiner, the neighbor from the next flat. He stepped out and pulled the door shut behind him.

He smiled. 'Sorry about the noise.'

She glared at him, her chin outthrust and arms locked across her chest. 'Tell him to turn it down. My granddaughter is here, and it's making her fractious.'

Heimo noticed high-pitched screeching from next door. 'Yes, of course. He's a little upset today. Can you wait a moment?'

She gave a grudging nod, and he went inside.

'Dad, turn the TV down. You're disturbing people.' Erich said nothing, so Heimo took the hand with the remote to do it himself. He expected his father to grip the device and resist his effort, but the plastic cube almost fell out of his hand when Heimo touched it. Heimo peered at the buttons and selected the sound control, pushing it higher rather than lower to start with. The he wrapped his father's fingers around the control. Frail, dry and thin, the hand seemed to have no warmth.

'Better?' Heimo asked the neighbor. 'He usually keeps it quite low.'

'Sometimes yes, sometimes no.' She paused and her shoulders started to relax. 'It is not my business, but does he have a problem or an illness? I mean other than his age?'

Heimo looked at her. 'Well, he has a few health issues. Why?'

Mrs. Kleiner colored. 'We hear him some days. It's as if he's talking to someone, but not making any sense. Disconnected, sort of. I thought it was the TV or the phone, but it didn't sound like either of those.' She shrugged. 'Not my business really.'

Heimo smiled. 'I'm glad you told me. It's good to know there are people who are aware of him since he doesn't come out much. But this is the first I've heard of him talking to himself. He's having some tests, so we'll look into it.'

Over Mrs. Kleiner's shoulder, he saw the health nurse coming up the path. 'I'll mention this to the nurse, and perhaps she can suggest a remedy.' He thought for a second. 'If I give you my phone number, would you call me if this happens again?'

Mrs. Kleiner nodded, then smiled. 'Of course, of course. We must look after each other.'

He handed her one of his cards, and her eyes narrowed as she read it. 'So, a policeman then. It must be difficult. I have a nephew who is a policeman in Vienna.' She turned at the sound of the footsteps. 'Well, I'll leave you to it then,' and she walked off, raising her hand in a vague greeting to Nurse Eichner.

Hella Eichner wore a crisp, official uniform, but her whole being radiated concern for her fellow man. Heimo couldn't imagine she would ever have taken up another profession.

She smiled and stuck out her hand. 'Good morning, Chief Inspector. It has been glorious today, has it not?'

Heimo grinned and shook her hand. 'Ms. Eichner do you think we could do this on a first name basis? It's been several years after all.'

She dimpled. 'If you wish. I am Hella.'

'And I'm Heimo as you know. How are you this evening Hella?'

'I'm tired. This weather makes my patients feel better, so that's a bonus, but it's been a long day. How's your father?'

'He's not responding to the sunshine, I'm afraid, due to not having seen any of it. He seems to be welded to that chair watching television, and he lives in the dark. And now the neighbor tells me he's been talking to himself loud enough they can hear it. Is that just old age or something else?'

The nurse nodded. 'I know about the disjointed speech. And I've tried to get him to come out at least for a short walk, but he refuses. I think it would be best if I see him first, and I also have a new medication for him. Then we can have a chat, OK?'

Heimo stepped to one side, opened the door and made a mock bow as she went through. He walked out onto the lawn to stand under a small birch tree and lit a cigarette.

Erich had been irascible and argumentative ever since Heimo's mother died, but in brief bursts. Now he seemed constantly morose. His attention wandered, and the TV seemed to act as a hypnotic drug rather than entertainment.

The elder man had spent most of his working life as a builder, outside in all weathers, and he escaped into the mountains and forests whenever time and money permitted. Now he seldom saw daylight from one week to the next. And that was only the most obvious change.

He berated himself for selfish blindness, for reaching the point of not worrying about the old man so long as nothing shouted for attention. When he faced it, he knew he resented looking after his father. And his brother Hugo, who should have shared the load, contributed exactly nothing. The fact that Hugo had a family and a job in another city in no way lessened Heimo's discontent.

So he went through the motions, pushing Erich into his mental background, doing just enough to keep the serious guilt at bay. He dropped his cigarette on the lawn and ground it out until it merged with the dust.

Hella Eichner emerged from the apartment, stuffing medicine bottles into a voluminous carryall. She walked over to stand beside him and glanced at the cigarette remains. 'They aren't good for you, you know.' She smiled.

Heimo nodded. 'Almost nothing I enjoy is. How's he doing?'

Her customary smile sagged to a frown. 'He appears to be quite depressed. I have no idea what the cause might be, but I think he needs to see the doctor. It's been over six months since his last examination, and they'll need to run tests to make sure the medication is still appropriate. Do you want me to arrange an appointment?'

'Please. I'm wondering if he's been getting worse, and I just haven't seen it?'

She shook her head. 'I am here regularly. Part of the problem is just lack of interest in life - one reason we want him to get out and about. I'll ask the doctor's office to contact you with the appointment time.' She glanced at her watch. 'I need to visit my last patient. Do you have any other questions?'

'Thank you, no. I appreciate everything you're doing for him.'

Her smile reappeared. She waved and strode down the pavement toward the adjoining block. Heimo started back to the apartment, then stopped, rubbing his hands on his trouser legs. What could he say to Erich? Being the dutiful son wasn't working well, nor was upsetting the old boy. Maybe it was one of those situations where nothing you did made it any better.

He trudged over to the flat and noticed Erich had closed the curtains. 'Dad, I'm off. I'll drop in tomorrow, probably in the afternoon, OK?'

Erich said, in a clear voice, 'Why did you do that?'

'Do what? What are you talking about?'

But Erich appeared not to have heard him. Heimo stood in front of him, careful to stay out of the sight line to the TV. 'Dad? What did you mean?'

His father glanced up at him. 'Are you coming back tomorrow? I need beer, coffee, sugar.'

Heimo stared. 'Sure Dad.'

Erich nodded and changed the channel.

Heimo dawdled out to his car, trying to evaluate what he'd seen. Dementia? Could be, but since he knew less than zero about dementia, speculation was a waste of energy. But if Erich was falling off the deep end, Heimo's troubles were just beginning.

You plow through the swamp, then climb out to face the crocodiles. He whistled a few bars from 'Ode to Joy' and pulled into the traffic.

Fatigue washed through him. The idea of pleasing himself for the evening was like the prospect of a hot bath and a pony for Christmas. He tried to remember if he had any food in the house, but his mind's eye wandered in and out of cupboards seeing nothing edible. So he stopped at a late opening market and picked up bread, salami and cheese - not a night to cook or fuss.

He lived in a quiet section of the city, away from main arteries. The old building pleased him. It had been renovated but retained its nineteenth century charm. Heimo opened his mailbox, which rewarded him with the usual kilo of junk advertisements, bills, and a book he'd ordered online. He shoved it all in the shopping bag and climbed to his sanctuary.

The flat resembled a Greenwich village loft, and he'd furnished it with stuff he loved. He couldn't remember a time when he hadn't been glad to come home, drunk or sober, alone or accompanied. With a decent view over the city from a small balcony, breakfast and dinner became special meals in good weather. A single bedroom, an adequate kitchen and a bathroom with a deep tub gave him a feeling of satisfaction one seldom found in an apartment.

In the living room, he'd installed a scarred roll-top desk in one corner, a ceiling-to-floor bookcase against the adjoining wall, and an American reclining chair. There were occasions when he wished someone sat across from him, reading and sipping a glass of wine, but this evening was not one of them.

He threw a plate together and ate without being more than half-aware of what went into his mouth. After washing it down with a beer, he poured eighteen-year-old scotch into a heavy crystal glass and settled back into the recliner with the new book. Sleep claimed him well before the whiskey reached the bottom of the tumbler.

### Chapter 8

Heimo walked through the door at six forty-five and found himself the last to arrive. The others were already at their desks. He waited as the coffee machine ground through its repertoire of noises. When he turned, expectant grins greeted him.

'You people will have to learn to start early if you want to get ahead. Right, what have you discovered?'

Gunther started. 'Forensics confirmed the ID \- it's Falkner. He was in the Army, so his prints were on file. We're trolling through our records and on the internet looking for general background. But we can't contact anyone until next of kin is notified.'

'Good. What else?'

Sigi said, 'I checked our database, and the only Falkners in Carinthia with criminal records are an Elinor and a Josef. They must be related to Gerhard as they have the same home address. Two arrests each, one for drugs and one for alcohol. They were busted together both times and charged with the same offense. Based on the birth dates, they're twins.'

'When and what drugs?'

'The alcohol pinch was six years ago - drunk driving. Josef was driving, but they both fought, and it took three uniforms to bring them in. But no "resisting arrest" charge. Then they were scooped up in a raid at Velden. The sister had a bag of grass and a few pills in her purse, and her brother had an unspecified amount of coke. Charges dismissed.'

'No reason?'

'None.'

'Interesting, but it might not mean anything. The Prosecutor could have blown it off for any number of reasons. See if you can dig out any more details, maybe talk to the arresting officers. What else?'

Alex's turn. 'I'm trying to build up a picture of the business. There's a holding company, the Falkner Enterprises headquarters out on Worthersee, and at least three manufacturing operations. One in Linz produces electronic components, there's a building materials plant in Vienna, and a foundry in Wiener Neustadt that makes auto parts. No company website, so most of this is from news stories.'

Heimo said, 'It's a start.'

Gunther held up a sheaf of printouts. 'I'm trying to find details on the family history. Mostly news articles again. Father's name was Heinrich - he started the business after the war. But, although the company was registered, it's not clear exactly what it did. There are four children. These twins, Gerhard who is the oldest, and one named Thomas who's the youngest. Gerhard graduated as an engineer from the University of Vienna. That's as far as I've got.'

'Gives us some grist for the mill. Let's see if anyone else has anything to contribute during briefing. And it would be nice if Halegger had something substantial from the crime scene.'

Briefing started at eight o'clock and more than half the seats were filled when Walter took the floor.

'Most of you are aware we've had another homicide. This latest bears a resemblance to the Skolnik killing. For reasons that will become clear, it may end up involving several of your departments. So before we get to the squad reports, I'll let Karl and Heimo give you a better idea of what's going on.' He nodded at Halegger.

The Forensic Chief gave a brief overview of what they found at the body's location and confirmed the victim's identity. 'Late yesterday we discovered what appears to be the burial site. It's upstream about ninety meters from where the corpse was discovered. However, it doesn't help much because it's just a muddy hole. We can't tell if the man was shot there and then buried or killed elsewhere and transported to the gravesite. We're continuing to search, specifically for a bullet. There's a dirt road up the mountain close to where the grave is. We found two separate tire tracks, and we're trying to match them. But they're so slight, I'm not sure we'll get anything useful.

He gave way to Heimo who itemized what his team had turned up so far. 'Because of Falkner's status and occupation, we'll dig into his business operations straight away. There could be rivals with motives. Also the autopsy showed he'd been doing a fair amount of coke, so a drug deal gone wrong could fit. We have quite a lot of legwork to do and I expect to have a firmer direction by tomorrow. Any cases you're working on connected to the Falkners would be of interest.'

He sat down and Walter resumed. 'Let's have the other reports, and if you've got anything which bears on this, let us know.'

The other squad leaders gave a rundown of their current activities, but Gerhard Falkner did not figure in any of them. The Drug Squad Chief said, 'We'll take a fresh look at known cocaine channels. There are a few dealers who might supply someone like Falkner, and a few more with a record for violence. At the moment, I can't come up with anyone who matches both.'

The meeting wound up and Heimo and the team returned to the office. Heimo said, 'Let's hit the road. Sigi and I will go out to the house and try to rouse a next of kin. Assuming the house isn't the crime scene, the next stop is the business. Gunther, you take the company office, but wait for my call before you go in. If the house is a candidate for the murder scene, we may change tactics. Alex, you're the command post today.' They were moving before he finished.

Sigi missed the turnoff the first time because the entrance looked like a farm track rather than the driveway to a house. But once they started in, it widened to a paved road spectacularly lined with old chestnut trees. It reminded Heimo of roads in France with their palisades of plane trees. The fields on either side of the drive were agricultural, and corn shoots sprouted from the smooth earth. They drove up a gradual slope for a kilometer, then broke out onto level ground with the house before them.

A manor built in traditional Austrian style, Heimo guessed it was nineteenth century, perhaps older. There were three floors visible and two wings extending back from either end like the upper and lower bars of an "E". Painted the same yellow as the Royal Palace in Vienna, the house's regal effect was highlighted by alternating cornerstones done in brilliant white.

The drive terminated at a circular parking area, in the middle of which sat a huge bed of red and white flowers.

Sigi muttered, 'Very patriotic,' as she pulled up by the front door.

Heimo rang an old-fashioned bell and heard chimes deep within the structure. Nothing happened. He said, 'Take a look around,' and Sigi walked toward the west corner, peering in all the windows as she went. Heimo tried the bell again but met the same indifference. He noticed outbuildings about two hundred meters away abutting a spur of woodland. He decided to try his luck there when a woman emerged from one of them and started toward him.

She walked with long strides, and a mane of blonde hair floated behind her. As she reached the edge of the gravel, he could also see she was attractive and dressed in riding clothes.

She said, 'Good morning. Are you looking for the Falkners?'

'In a manner of speaking. May I ask who you are?'

'My name is Zengler, Anna Zengler. And you are?'

'Chief Inspector Kapeller, LKA for Carinthia.' He showed her his ID card.

The woman glanced at it. 'Are they in trouble?'

Heimo kept his face blank. 'Do you work here?'

'No, I live down in the village. I'm just looking after the horses. I come up and give them a little exercise as well as feed and water when both brothers are away for more than a day.'

'Both?'

'Yes, Gerhard and Thomas. What's the trouble, anyway?'

'Are you a close friend of the Falkners?'

She smiled. 'Not close, no. They are...somewhat distant, shall we say.'

'I am sorry to inform you Gerhard Falkner is dead.' He fastened on her face.

Her gray eyes went wide and her mouth opened. 'Good God! What happened - an accident or something?'

Heimo shook his head. 'I'm afraid it was deliberate. Someone shot him.'

Her hands flew to her mouth, and she stared at him for a few moments, the color gone from her cheeks. 'I can't believe it. Are you sure?'

He nodded. 'I know it's a shock, but we need to ask you a few questions.' Over Ms. Zengler's shoulder, he saw Sigi coming around the corner. She shook her head which Heimo took to mean she'd found nothing.

Heimo said, 'This is my colleague, Inspector Brumnig. Can you tell us the last time you saw Gerhard Falkner?'

The woman pressed her hands to her head as if to clear it. 'Sorry. Yes, last Thursday. He'd called Wednesday night and said he'd be gone Thursday and Friday. When I came up Thursday morning, he was getting into his car. But I didn't speak to him.' She gazed off into the distance. 'He waved as he drove past.'

'You also mentioned Thomas Falkner. Do you know where he might be?'

Her mouth twisted. 'No. I have no dealings with him.'

'You sound as though you don't like him.'

'I don't.'

'Why?'

'I caught him mistreating one of the horses. Appalling.'

'Are there any staff who work here? There's no one at home.'

'There's a couple from the village. He does the garden and she the house, but they don't live in. They come up several times a week.'

Heimo nodded to Sigi who eased into the interview and established a rapport with the woman before Heimo got around the corner on his own inspection tour. He made a quick call to Gunther and told him to go ahead with the Falkner offices.

The grounds to the back and sides of the house were as well kept as the front. The large garden had been laid out in someone's idea of a classical design - geometric shapes bounded by low box hedges and groups of flowers separated by arrow-straight flagstone paths. Everything was neat and clean; it looked more like an advertisement than a place where someone lived. He poked about for a few minutes but found little of interest. There were no cars in the garage. A window next to the rear door had a fist-sized hole in one corner. It was so dark inside the house, he could see nothing.

He worked his way around to the front. Ms. Zengler had disappeared. Sigi muttered into her voice recorder, making notes about the interview.

'Any luck?' he said.

'Not much. Hasn't seen or heard anything suspicious. I got her details and the name of the couple in the village. One odd thing though. I asked her about the twins. She said she met them once several years ago but doesn't think they live here. So one dead, and the rest missing. Makes you wonder, doesn't it?'

'That it does. And no cars. We need to check vehicles registered to the family or company and locate them.'

His phone buzzed.

Alex said, 'Gunther needs a warrant to get into the company computers. The staff are not being helpful.'

'OK, call Walter and find out who the assigned Prosecutor is.'

'Already done. It's a Cristina Neuroth. I called her. She says she knows you and will prepare the warrant. I suppose I shouldn't be surprised.'

'Funny. Try to dig up anything on the whereabouts of the brothers and sister. They all seem to be missing.' He gave Alex a summary of what they'd gleaned from Ms. Zengler. 'It's a big place. I'm wondering if there are any little Falkners or ex-wives around, so look at births, deaths and marriages. Also, check with Immigration and see if there's a record of any of them, including Gerhard, leaving or entering the country recently. And finally, find out about vehicles registered to them. There aren't any at the house.'

Alex said he was already combing databases for family details.

Heimo and Sigi headed back to Klagenfurt, no further forward.

### Chapter 9

Sigi caught up on reports while Heimo went for the warrant. The assignment of a new Prosecutor to such a high-profile case made him uneasy. Maybe Friesacher just wanted to test her abilities. But it didn't feel that way. Heimo suspected they were testing Neuroth's loyalty. If she played it straight, she couldn't be trusted. But if she made life difficult for the police, she'd be accepted into the political inner circle and slated for promotion.

Or perhaps they were trying to make good on the threat to "cash in his chips" by using her as a vicious little trap. He'd better mind where he put his feet.

He tapped on Ms. Gabler's door and walked in. 'Morning, Greta. God, you look ravishing.'

Greta snorted. 'So do you my fine fellow. I presume you are here about the warrant. I sent the girl over to pick it up. In the meantime, Ms. Neuroth wants to speak to you.'

'Does she now? I'm really busy this morning. Might be easier later.'

'Heimo, she's merely doing her job. She cannot be expected to know the history of everyone and everything. This is her first serious case. Besides, you two will get along well. So go see her, no excuses. I'll have the warrant when you come back.'

Heimo half-saluted. 'Yes, mother. Which office?'

'Third on the left.'

He about-faced and strode down the corridor.

The door to Neuroth's office bore no marks other than a number and a blank nametag slot. He knocked once and entered. The room was painted a nondescript muddy green. Thin brown carpet flowed up to a scarred oak desk covered with files in assorted colors. Ranks of battleship gray filing cabinets stood in formation along the side walls. The President's image looked on in approval.

Neuroth, sitting behind the desk, observed his reaction. 'Rather grim, isn't it?'

'I often have the urge to sneak in at night and redecorate one of them to see if anybody would notice.'

'An interesting idea. I suggest something in the Salvador Dali line.'

'Perfect. Greta said you wished to see me.'

'Not about the homicide. I'm sure you'll call me when you're ready. I'm more interested in what transpired yesterday.'

His eyes narrowed. 'What about it?'

'I'm acquainted with office politics, but that tribunal broke new ground. Does the Brigadier often conduct his disciplinary matters in front of lawyers?'

Where was she going with this? 'Never, as far as I know. We usually try to give the impression there are no disciplinary matters in the department. Perhaps it's an experimental procedure.' He considered the delicate balance between discretion and valor.

'For what it's worth, I've studied the political situation here, and I think I understand which way the wind blows.' She stopped and watched him.

And he watched her.

It sounded like an overture. They tested the vagaries of that wind, trying to decide if it was blowing them together or apart.

He ventured a few blades of grass into the breeze. 'I don't think the Vice Governor wants anyone upset unnecessarily.'

'Perhaps some of those people you tried to talk to are his political supporters.'

'Probably. Many of the most successful men in the province are members of his party.'

'A police murder investigation - not something they'd want to be associated with.'

Their eyes locked.

Heimo kept his voice neutral. 'Even if they had no involvement with the crime.'

The corners of her mouth turned up for a fraction of a second. 'But more particularly, if they were involved.'

A little tension slid out of his shoulders. 'Investigations go with the evidence. No evidence, no investigation.'

Neuroth sat back for a moment and looked at him over her glasses. When she finally spoke her voice no longer had that probing quality. 'Which implies the law is not equally applied.' She grimaced. 'And we know it isn't.'

It was the last thing he expected to hear from a lawyer. He wanted to delve, but her phone rang.

She answered it and said, 'Thank you.'

She stood. 'Your warrant is ready. Ms. Gabler has it. Do you need anything else?'

'Not at the moment. We're in the preliminary digging stage, and nothing is obvious yet. If I come back this afternoon around four or five, I can give you an update.'

'Five is better. I have a deposition to do, and the lady is ninety years old.'

Heimo grinned. 'Five it is.'

Things were somehow brighter than they had been.

As he and Sigi drove to Lake Worthersee, his phone buzzed. Alex said, 'I'm looking, but I'm not getting anything from the normal sources on any of the Falkners except Gerhard. And still no word from Immigration.'

'The warrant will let us pry into their secrets a little more. Have you found the cars?'

'Not yet, the vehicle registration database is down again. I'll call as soon as I get something.'

Sigi said, 'I've been thinking. The Falkners must have links with companies, suppliers and such, in other countries. That might explain why we didn't get far with Skolnik. The MO looked professional, but we couldn't make it fit. But if someone brought in a hit man from somewhere else, that's a much bigger problem.'

Heimo agreed. 'A distinct possibility, and if Falkner and Skolnik are linked, there is bound to be dirty laundry somewhere. But we need something solid to go with, otherwise we're flailing.'

The Falkners had their headquarters on the north shore of the lake, an unusual place for a business operation. Most of the land was given over to resorts and tourist spots, and prices were too high for normal industrial use. The Falkners were not only making money, they wanted to flaunt it.

The building itself was a disappointment. Red brick, two stories and rectangular, it looked more like a plumbing contractor's office.

Gunther had parked across from the entrance. He sat on the front of his car and basked in the midday sun. Sigi pulled in next to him. She leaned out the window and said, 'Already made an arrest?'

He nodded. 'Arrested all of 'em, but I don't know which is the killer. Left it for you and your girlish intuition.'

Sigi stuck her tongue out.

'Bit of an odd reaction when I went in. Nice smile from the receptionist until I showed her my ID. Then I got a freeze job. She called the manager, a guy named Anton Klostermann. He wasn't happy - stiff as a board. Anyway, we went to his office and I told him the boss had been bumped off. He looked as though he'd taken one in the belly, so I'm fairly sure he was surprised. Then he tightens up like an oyster. Didn't want to answer questions, wanted to call lawyers. But he never asked me what had happened - just tried to pass the buck as fast as possible. So I reckoned we'd better do it by the book.'

Heimo scanned the nearly empty car park. 'How many people work here?'

Gunther pulled out his notebook. 'Twenty-two. Most of 'em are button-sorters, back-office types. There are four who had frequent contact with Falkner - this guy Klostermann, the receptionist, Trude Waltheim, a bookkeeper named Johann Fitzler and a general factotum who goes by the nom de guerre of Tiki Ozerna.'

'What does this Ozerna do?'

'A bit of everything. Runs errands, picks up and delivers small packages, sorts the mail, whatever they need him to do. Pretty good idea actually - we should ask Walter to get us one.'

Heimo snorted. 'Best not. He might decide you're it.'

'Ozerna's been here for about ten years. Probably sees more than anybody else does. We should lean on him a little. And we're going to need a geek. They keep most of their stuff on computer.'

Heimo nodded. 'Sigi, call Cybercrime and see if they can spare Peter Rossi. He's good with admin systems.'

Sigi turned away with her phone.

'Been in Falkner's office yet?'

Gunther shook his head. 'Thought I'd wait till you got here. I told Halegger what we're doing.'

Sigi finished her call. 'Peter's on his way. Fifteen minutes.'

'Let's go.'

Two glass doors slid aside revealing a stout middle-aged man in a dark suit. 'Good morning. You are Chief Inspector Kapeller?' When Heimo nodded, he said, 'I am Anton Klostermann at your service. May I suggest we go to my office?'

Without waiting for an answer, he turned and led them down a bright corridor lined with copies of modernist paintings. At the end he took them through a door into a large open plan room containing four cubicles. A smaller glass fronted enclosure occupied the rear. The cubicles were empty, and the silence in what should have been a busy office was sharp and distinct.

Klostermann led them into the enclosure and gestured toward chairs. 'Do you wish coffee or tea?'

Heimo said, 'Maybe later. First we need details about Gerhard Falkner.'

Klostermann did not quite wring his hands but looked as though he wanted to. 'I am still having trouble taking it in. It seems...well, I suppose, impossible. You are sure there is no mistake?'

'I'm afraid not. When did you last see Mr. Falkner?'

'On Thursday.'

'What time on Thursday?'

'About twelve o'clock or perhaps a little after.'

'I want you to go back over Thursday in as much detail as you can regarding what Mr. Falkner did, who he talked to, phone calls, decisions he made.'

'I'll try, although I'm not sure I remember everything.'

'When did he come in?'

Klostermann sank into his chair and folded his hands on the desk. 'He arrived just before ten o'clock. He went to his office, then buzzed for me. I took the files and went in.'

'Is that the normal routine?'

'There really is not a routine. His schedule varies...varied from day to day. But he always called me in unless he was with a client.'

'And what did you discuss?'

'Oh, just business things. Schedules, correspondence, messages from the factories.'

'Anything different on Thursday morning?'

Klostermann stared. 'How do you mean, different?'

'Did he seem upset, preoccupied, irritated? Was his behavior unusual, abnormal?'

'I don't think so. He was quite cheerful.'

'Did any problems come up?'

'Only the usual things.'

'Any meetings scheduled?'

'He was supposed to go to the factory at Linz to speak with the line foreman and tooling staff.'

'Any others?'

'None I was aware of, but, as I say, Mr. Gerhard controlled his own schedule.'

'Did he call anyone or receive any calls?'

'He may have, I have not checked with reception. Of course, he may have used his mobile.'

'Let's talk a little about the Falkner family. I understand one of Gerhard Falkner's brothers, Thomas, is also involved with the business. We haven't been able to locate him. Do you know where he is?'

'No I do not. Mr. Thomas is of course part of the firm, but he does not work here on a regular basis. He deals with suppliers and customers who are...not local.'

'As in, out of the country?'

'That is my understanding. However, I cannot confirm of my own knowledge what he does or where he goes. His...activities are not handled by my staff.'

'And when did you last see him?'

'About ten or twelve days ago. I don't remember the exact day. And I only saw him briefly as he left the building.'

'You didn't speak to him?'

'No.'

'We have records of another brother and sister, twins. Know anything about them, or where they might be?'

'No, I never met them, and as far as I am aware, they never came here.'

'Do you know anyone who might have wished to harm Mr. Falkner?'

Klostermann did not blink. 'No. Mr. Gerhard was a highly respected man.'

'Did he actually go to Linz?'

Klostermann hesitated. 'I...I'm not sure.'

'How would you find out?'

'Well, if there were any actions to be taken or documentation required or anything of that nature, I would receive a report from the factory. Sometimes Mr. Gerhard would send me a memo with a list of things to follow up. But I've had nothing.'

'Would they call here if he hadn't shown up?'

'They usually communicated with him directly about such things. We received no call.'

Heimo paused. He waited until Klostermann started to shift in his seat, then said, 'So you haven't heard from your boss since last Thursday. Did you try to call him?'

'No.'

'How long were you going to wait?'

Klostermann stared at his desk but said nothing.

Heimo noticed Inspector Peter Rossi sidle into the room.

'Well, Mr. Klostermann, you haven't given us a great deal of information, so we need to take the next steps. I have a warrant to search the premises including entry to your computer systems. It looks like the staff are gone, so I doubt if we will disrupt your operation very much.'

Klostermann's eyebrows flew up. 'But there is confidential information on the computer. I certainly could not authorize any access.'

Heimo smiled. 'We've anticipated that difficulty. The warrant says we don't require your permission. Now, we need access to the server room and to Gerhard Falkner's office.'

The manager frowned. 'Why the computer room?'

'So we can prevent anyone tampering with the system, or perhaps accidently deleting things relevant to our investigation.'

'You are implying we have something to hide. I assure you we do not. The system is very complex and the information it holds is highly sensitive. I had better consult our lawyers.'

Heimo leaned back in his chair and studied the administrator. 'Are you familiar with the term obstruction? Legally it refers to any action taken to prevent the police from carrying out their duties. People guilty of obstruction are liable to criminal penalties. Do I made myself clear?'

Klostermann paled and took a deep breath. 'Very well.'

As he led the way down another corridor, Heimo said, 'You should contact your lawyers anyway. We'll need to talk to them in due course.'

Gunther explained the situation to Rossi as they walked down the hall.

When Klostermann unlocked the door, Peter asked him for the administrator password, wrote it down and went into the room.

Heimo said, 'We also need to examine Herr Falkner's office. And before you object, it's all part of the routine. And we don't need your permission.'

Klostermann looked like he'd been asked to betray his mother. He handed Heimo a key, pointed down the hallway, then stalked away.

Heimo told Sigi to start the staff interviews, and he and Gunther headed for the lift.

Gunther said, 'Not over keen on helping us, is he?'

'Either he's letting his loyalty to the boss get in the way of his brain, or he's trying to hide something.'

He unlocked a door marked "Gerhard Falkner" in gold letters. 'You take the file cabinets and I'll do the desk.'

They began to dig into the murdered man's life hoping for a quick breakthrough.

### Chapter 10

Falkner's office was a curious mixture of luxury and sterility. Thick oriental carpet covered the floor, the windows were wide and curtained with brocade, and the desk was big enough to land a helicopter. A few copies of modernist paintings adorned the walls. But there was nothing personal to be seen either on the desk or anywhere else. It was so neat, it might never have been used.

Heimo figured they were wasting their time, the same impression he'd had talking to Klostermann. It was as though everything had been created for deception; a conventional facade of normal people and things designed to mask whatever was behind it.

He sat in the deep-padded executive chair behind the desk. The surface was clear except for a calendar and a telephone. Drawers on the left held nothing but a few items of stationary and those on the right even less. The center was a repository for a ruler, paper clips and an old Mont Blanc fountain pen. Heimo unscrewed the cap and tested it on the calendar. Dry as dust. He started to shove the drawer in when he saw the corner of something green in the back. Pulling the drawer full out, he discovered a small address book of the type people used before the coming of mobile phones and computers. He settled back in the chair and opened it.

Entries were sparse. The few notations he found were not names, addresses or telephone listings, but groups of letters and numbers. The letters preceded the numbers and were organized according to the book's alphabetical tabs, but they made no particular sense. Possibly a private code, using abbreviations for things Falkner was familiar with. Skolnik's book had been similar.

He sensed Gunther's discontent. 'Any luck?'

'Nothing useful. Lots of old correspondence. Latest is from four years ago. New stuff is presumably on the computer, but it's just standard business crap. Might be something in here, but it'll take a week to find it. Want me to put someone on it?'

'No, if it's that old it's unlikely to have any bearing on his death. We'll look at it as a last resort, but not now. All I've found is an address book with a few coded entries, but what they are, I couldn't say.'

Heimo glanced around the room. 'I get the impression he was never here. No personal items, no pictures of him being congratulated by the Governor, nothing.'

'I reckon he did his real business somewhere else, somewhere away from prying eyes.'

'Could be. Anyway, this is a washout. Let's see what Peter's come up with.'

When they closed the door, they left as little trace of their presence as had the owner.

Rossi crouched over a terminal as though he were about to wrestle with it. On the table next to him were several sheets of tracked computer paper covered with hieroglyphics. He looked up. 'Everything is in here, and it looks up to date.'

Heimo said, 'But?'

'I haven't found anything bearing on the murder.'

'Walk us through it.'

Peter had started with Falkner's schedules, meeting notes and staff memos. There was surprisingly little in the way of a schedule. 'I imagine he kept his appointments in his head, and computer scheduling was only used when other people were involved. There's nothing sinister about it except most companies put everything on a master schedule. My guess is Falkner compartmentalized things. So I didn't find anything that connects to the time he was killed, assuming that was Thursday or Friday.'

'What about a few days prior?'

Peter shook his head. 'Nope. I also looked for anything about Skolnik, but no joy there either. It's funny, but it's almost like Falkner didn't exist in the day to day world.'

Gunther glanced at Heimo. 'Same with his office - like nobody's ever been in there.'

Heimo said. 'Maybe the business is a front.'

Gunther and Peter both looked surprised. Peter said, 'Well, there is a business here. The records are extensive and look like the usual admin.'

'I don't mean the business doesn't exist. But the legitimate stuff may be a front for something else, something he doesn't want the staff to know about. Sounds pretty far out, but it would account for the fact he didn't seem to be exactly running the operation.' He scratched his jaw. 'Maybe I'm off with the fairies. Do we need to get the Economic boys to break this down?'

Peter nodded. 'I think so. There could be suspect documents hidden in here I wouldn't even recognize. I've created a ghost image of the main drives, but it will take a while to download.'

'OK, let's button this place up and see if Sigi has anything. Is the system locked so they can't access it?'

Peter tapped in a series of codes. 'Is now.'

They closed the door and Gunther put a police seal across it.

Sigi was on her phone when they got to Reception. The young woman behind the counter sat erect, arms folded, and stared at her console.

Sigi said, 'This afternoon for sure,' and closed her phone. 'I told Alex to put in a request to pull the phone records. Trude here,' she gestured at the Receptionist, 'has given me a list of people who have been in within the last month and I've made a copy of the Visitor Log. But they don't keep a telephone record, so we need the records for the three main lines. I've also got the numbers for the victim's mobile and the brother's.' She grinned. 'I was going to call him and ask him where he is, but I thought I better wait. Oh, and Ozerna is not here. Someone sent him out to deliver a package.'

Klostermann came down the corridor. Heimo said, 'Mr. Klostermann, we've finished for now. We've sealed your computer room and prevented any electronic access. I know it's inconvenient, but this afternoon our people will come over and make a copy of your system, and you can get back to work. And if you hear from Thomas Falkner, call me.' He handed over a card.

Klostermann's mouth opened. He started to protest, then became aware the officers were staring at him in a rather pointed way. 'I suppose I have no choice, but please finish as soon as possible. I am now responsible for the company until Mr. Thomas returns, and I don't want anything to go wrong.' He realized how that sounded. 'Or...' and tailed off in confusion. He was not a man used to dealing with a crisis.

They returned to the office at lunchtime, but no one went out. They ate at their desks or grabbed something at the canteen. Heimo headed for Walter's office.

For a change, the room was clear of cigarette smoke. Walter was rearranging the staffing board.

Heimo said, 'Getting those deck chairs on the Titanic sorted out?'

Walter chuckled. 'I'm looking for your replacement. I've been waiting for a call from Augustin all morning, but he is suspiciously absent.'

'Perhaps he's been called away...to Mongolia.'

'Speaking of Mongolia, Victor Kretschmer called and left a message for you.'

Kretschmer was an old colleague from the Cobra days who had done several tours of duty abroad. 'Where is he now, Angola or someplace?'

'Closer than that - Vienna.'

'I wonder what he wants.'

Walter finished his sorting and sat down. 'So what happened this morning?'

Heimo detailed what the team had done and why. 'We get the impression Falkner is mist, like he's not quite there - except for the corpse, of course. There are, I think, two possible explanations. One is that the businesses have been established for a long time and the managers take most of the load, so Falkner doesn't do much except make a few decisions. It might also explain the brother who is seldom around. If he's on the road seeing suppliers and customers, there's even less for Gerhard to do. But it leads us nowhere regarding the murder.'

He paused and lit a cigarette after offering one to Walter who shook his head. The second is more interesting. If the businesses are OK on their own, maybe he's gotten involved in something more lucrative, but illegal. Like drugs or people trafficking or something similar. And that would create a lot more possibilities for murder. But it's pure speculation and impression.'

'You won't get anywhere until you can nail down a few hard facts. What are you doing now?'

'We'll have a meeting, put together what we do know, and figure out the next move. Who's going from Economics?'

'I don't know. I just told them to send someone straight away, and to take Rossi with him.'

Heimo stubbed his cigarette out. 'By the way, I'm meeting the Prosecutor this afternoon to update her. She seems pretty good.'

Walter grinned but said nothing.

In the office, Alex was standing by the fax. As a single sheet slipped out, he glanced at it, then smacked it with his hand. 'Got a line on Thomas. I found out the Falkners have an arrangement with the charter flight outfit at the airport. They took Thomas Falkner to Marco Polo at Venice ten days ago. From there, he flew to Rome, and according to this, then went to Beirut. No return booked.'

For half an hour, they raked over everything they'd learned about the deceased executive.

Gunther summed up. 'Nothing worthwhile yet, and certainly nothing pointing to murder. But a ton of stuff to be working on.'

Heimo said, 'Once the data starts to come in from the call logs, computer systems and elsewhere, we'll have a lot to check. In the meantime, let's get the admin up to speed. Take a break when you get finished. I need to make some calls. Alex, when do we get the phone logs?'

'Supposed to be this afternoon, but someone just called and said it will be tomorrow morning.'

'Right, give me a buzz when the computer stuff is ready.'

He started towards the canteen, then decided he didn't want any company. The parking area was quiet as he scrolled through his stored numbers. Victor Kretschmer still listed. He keyed it and waited.

Victor's voice boomed. 'Hello you old thief. They haven't caught up with you then?'

Heimo laughed. 'Too slick for 'em, son. But it sounds like you screwed up. How'd they trap you into Vienna?'

'It's a long and sordid story, too much for your tender ears. Listen, my spies tell me you've got another murder.'

'I do, a guy named Gerhard Falkner. Know him?'

'Happens I do. Hang on a minute.' Heimo heard quiet words and a door closing. 'Can anyone overhear you?'

'No, I'm in the parking area.'

'At the moment, this is for you only. I work for a special group at the Interior Ministry. We keep an eye on certain things. One of them is Falkner Industries.'

'That's a relief.'

'How so?'

'Everything we've found so far makes the guy look unbelievably clean. Nice to know maybe he's a little dirty. So why are you watching him?'

'It's somewhat involved. I'm sure you're busy, but can you come up here tomorrow?'

Heimo was surprised. Serious stuff if they couldn't talk about on the phone. 'What time?'

'Ten?'

'OK. Do I need to bring anything? Like a flak vest or radiation film?'

Victor whooped. 'Nope, just your ugly self. Call me when you get to Wiener Neustadt and I'll give you directions.'

### Chapter 11

The name Ozerna bounced around in Heimo's head. It tickled his memory, then slipped out of reach. He went back to the office and logged on to his terminal. When he queried the police database, it produced three Ozernas. The first was dead, and the second occupied a prison cell. The third looked like a winner.

The subject's name was Markus, but the aliases and nicknames section listed "Tiki". He'd been arrested twice, once for theft and once for burglary. The charges had been dropped on the burglary, but he'd done two years for the theft. There were no further citations since his release eleven years ago. Maybe working for the Falkners reformed him or made him smarter.

Heimo worked through the records. When he got to the burglary, his memory hummed, clicked and settled into its groove. After completing criminal investigation training, he'd partnered with a detective named Wohlheim. The burglary had been their second case. He'd never met Ozerna - his partner made the arrest and shuffled the paperwork while Heimo was in hospital. The prosecutor, despite solid evidence, refused to proceed for reasons never explained.

In an odd way, it made sense for Falkner to have a minor ex-con working for him. To compete in the upper echelons of industry and society, Falkner needed to show the face of the honest executive. But like many successful men who built their own organizations, he needed a conduit to the underbelly of criminality and corruption. Ozerna could serve as that link but keep Falkner's hands clean. To the rest of the world, Ozerna was just a delivery boy.

He retrieved Ozerna's telephone number and punched it in.

A dry voice said, 'Yeah?'

'Chief Inspector Kapeller, Carinthia LKA. I need to talk to you.'

'Why?'

'I have some questions about your boss, Gerhard Falkner.'

'I got nothin' to say about Mr. Falkner.'

'Not even about his death.'

There was a long silence. 'You lyin' bastard.' And the phone went dead.

It sounded as though Ozerna didn't know about Falkner's death. Odd, because the news must be on the street by now, although the victim's identity hadn't been formally released. And Ozerna was supposed to be delivering a package. Where and to whom?

Heimo shrugged. Too many other things to do.

He started to cross-check reports when his phone buzzed.

Ozerna's thin voice demanded, 'Who did it?'

'I don't know, that's why we need to talk.'

Another silence. Then, 'The Tressl gasthaus in Kansdorf. Know it?'

'Yes.'

'Twenty minutes.'

It was tempting to think that Ozerna might have information that would break the case open. More likely, he'd try to pump Heimo for his own purposes. Criminals operated on a different level, and they preferred to mete out their own consequences rather than have anything to do with the police.

But Heimo wanted this to break things open. He left the office without telling anyone where he was going.

The gasthaus sat on a shabby backstreet in a village that had the misfortune to find itself butted against a new railway line. Everyone able to move had already left. The Tressl looked ready to follow them.

Two forty-watt bulbs lit the bar. A fat woman reading a newspaper overflowed a barstool, and a slight gray-haired man in a sharkskin suit lurked in a shadowed booth. There were no other customers. Heimo headed for the table as the man watched him, blank-faced.

Heimo slid into the booth. The woman waddled over and Ozerna said, 'Two beers.' She rotated on her axis and left without a word.

The two men stared at each other, unwilling to commence battle until the beer arrived. When it did, Heimo fired first.

'The office said you were delivering a package. What was it and where did you take it?'

Ozerna sipped his beer but didn't answer. Finally he said, 'They told me he'd been shot. Professional?'

Heimo shrugged. 'We could do this for hours, but I'm not in the mood. You give me something, I give you something, otherwise I'll find a reason to play ugly cop. Falkner was shot in the back of the head, the same as Matthias Skolnik. Did Falkner and Skolnik know each other?'

Ozerna nodded. 'Since they was kids. Where was the body?'

'In the hills not far from Sittersdorf. He'd been buried, but the grave washed out. Any idea why he was up there?'

Ozerna's eyes shifted down and left then snapped back to Heimo. 'Not the slightest. When did he die?'

'We don't know. We think last Thursday or Friday. Klostermann says he scheduled a meeting with the management in Linz on Thursday, but he doesn't know if he got there or not. Never heard from him again.'

Ozerna's lip curled. 'Bullshit. The boss called and told the desk to tell Linz he'd be delayed. I was there.'

Heimo took a pull from his bottle. 'What time did he call?'

'I dunno, twelve-thirty, one. Find the gun?'

'No. Haven't found the bullet either. He might have been killed where he we found him or somewhere else. What car did Falkner drive?'

'Range Rover, big green son-of-a-bitch. You look up at the house?'

Heimo nodded. 'Not there. Know anybody who wanted to kill him?'

Ozerna snorted.

'Were Falkner and Skolnik in business together?'

'No idea. Above my pay grade.'

'Did Falkner belong to any political parties or organizations?'

For the first time, Ozerna looked the slightest bit animated. 'You better believe it. He was a player. Knew all the big boys, the Governor, the Vice, heavyweights from Vienna, everybody. They wanted things done, they knew who to come to.'

'We discovered Falkner did a lot of coke. Where'd he get it?'

Ozerna just shook his head.

'How did you meet Falkner?'

Ozerna leaned back. 'You know I was inside? When I come out I couldn't get a job. Someone got me on as a bartender at a party out by the lake. All the main men were there. It's something they call the Rosenheim Fund. Anyways, Falkner started talkin' to me. After he hears about my situation, he offers me a job. Been with him ever since.'

'Did he let Klostermann handle most of the business?'

Ozerna sneered. 'Klostermann's a paper pusher. Couldn't run anything. The boss made all the decisions.'

'How does Thomas Falkner fit in?'

Heimo watched the other man's jaw clench, and it was a few moments before Ozerna squeezed anything out. 'He's a prick, that' how he fits in.'

Heimo waited, but Ozerna just stared into his glass. 'So you don't like him. He doesn't seem to have a very big fan club. Why is that?'

'Like I said.'

'Would he kill his brother to get control of the business?'

Ozerna thought about that. After a moment, his head started to nod, but he avoided Heimo's eyes.

Eventually he looked up, his face blank. He finished his beer, thumped the glass on the table, and got up. 'We're done.'

Heimo didn't move. 'Ozerna?'

The little man stopped.

'If anything buggers up this investigation, I'll come looking.'

Ozerna said nothing for a moment, then almost in a whisper, 'You'll be lucky.'

On the way back to Klagenfurt, Heimo stopped at a lay-by and got out to have a cigarette. He paced the length of the track, keyed up and trying to hold it in check.

Ozerna had confirmed a connection between Falkner and Skolnik. Andrea had warned him about Moser. Two bodies, hit coldly and professionally, and a link to a notorious crime family. Drugs in the last victim's system. It fit - it all fit. That bastard Mehringer was centered in a web, a web that looked to be fraying badly if people were becoming expendable.

Finally. An opportunity to get the man he'd pursued so long. Or to ensure his own destruction.

He took one last drag and ground out the butt. There was no decision to make. He gunned the car back onto the road and raced for town.

### Chapter 12

The information everyone hoped would identify a killer walked through the door at four o'clock. Two Inspectors, one each from White Collar Crime and Technical Support, had copied the entire computer file system of Falkner Industries.

'Well, almost of all of it,' said Inspector Tadzhik. 'There's a bunch of material pertaining to operations you don't need. But all the data files are in there. Do you want me to take you through it?'

Heimo cocked an eye at Peter Rossi, who had been seconded to the team.

Rossi said, 'I'm OK. I had enough time this morning to get a good idea of the file system they use, so if all the passwords are there, shouldn't be a problem.'

Tadzhik produced a sheet of paper. 'I'll load this hard drive on the server. Be ready in about fifteen minutes. Look for drive M.'

When he left, Heimo said, 'Once it's set up, divide the workload between you. See if you can tease out anything odd or incomplete or out of place. I'm beginning to believe the Falkners might have some guilty secrets, although I'd be surprised to find much in that lot. I need to talk to the man. Alex, a word please.'

Time for a small test. Heimo had told no one about the meeting with Ozerna because he had no idea yet how to use the information. But they needed to locate Falkner's car, and he wanted to know if Lampl was trustworthy.

They walked down the hallway toward an empty office. There was no one around when Heimo stopped.

Alex sweated slightly and rubbed his finger on his upper lip. Not a good sign.

Heimo said, 'I found out Gerhard drove a green Range Rover. No other details. See what you can dig up, but keep it to yourself for the moment, OK?'

'Sure Heimo, no problem.'

Lampl's relief was palpable, which did nothing to increase Heimo's confidence.

He wandered down to Walter's office.

The Colonel was leaning back in his chair, feet propped on the lower desk drawer, coffee in one hand and a ham roll in the other. He nodded at Heimo while he finished chewing. 'So how is Victor?'

'How'd you know I've talked to Victor?'

Walter gave him the slow wink and laid a finger alongside his nose.

Heimo frowned. 'Well, he heard about the Falkner murder and says I ought to go up to see him.'

'I agree.'

'You seem to know more than I do.'

'I should hope so. Not much point in sticking my fat ass in this chair if I don't. They briefed us on Victor's unit about five months ago. Kept quiet for good reasons.'

'Like what?'

Walter chewed thoughtfully, as though choosing his words. 'No one knows who to trust anymore. Corruption is threaded through the system. Common knowledge you might think, because some idiot is always being caught with his or her hand in the cash register. But it runs deeper than that.'

He dropped the sandwich wrapper in the bin. 'What you thought you found out about Mehringer could be part of it although there's no direct evidence. You got the rug jerked out from under you because you were bumbling about in the dark, and likely to upset the cart. At the same time, you appeared to be uncorrupted, at least in the normal way. Had Mehringer via Augustin tried to cashier you, there would have been unfavorable reactions in several places.'

Heimo stared, and for one of the few times in his life, his mouth hung open. All he could come up with was, 'Jesus!'

Walter said, 'So now you know. Wheels within wheels. The question is, does Victor have anything bearing on the Falkner murder.'

'I guess I better find out. We have the computer dump from their office, so the troops have plenty to do. I presume they don't need to know about Victor?'

'They do not. Invent an excuse to be out tomorrow. Tell them I sent you to Linz or something.'

'Might get sticky if Victor gives me anything we can use.'

'Cross that one when you come to it. Make up an old informant who contacted you.'

Heimo glanced at Walter wondering if Andrea had risen to the surface, but the older man was staring into his coffee.

'I'll stop in tomorrow when I get back.'

'Make him buy you lunch. They've got a Ministry budget.'

Heimo decided to drop into the canteen before going back to the office. He sat in a corner trying to shift things into a new perspective. Disparate pieces of this and that drifted into focus. Like most investigators, Heimo lived on a steady diet of information from endless sources. His job was to filter out the non-relevant junk and use the good stuff to catch criminals. But the unused bits did not disappear. They floated around in the ether and occasionally became useful.

The more he backtracked over the Skolnik investigation and enquiries from the past several years, the more connections formed. Much of it was opaque, but there was something there he hadn't noticed before.

Long experience had taught him to beware of grand conspiracies run by brilliant villains. Real conspiracies tended to be small, venial and invented by people notable for stupidity. And this was Austria, not exactly the home of the international criminal elite. But he was already sensing something behind the two murders, something vaguely unsettling.

In the office, the team was keyboarding in unison. Each officer searched, noted, and organized, oblivious to everything else. Heimo went over to Gunther's desk and touched him on the shoulder. 'How's it going?'

Gunther pushed back and stretched. 'Good. Reams of stuff, but no smoking guns. Take a while to go through it all. Getting a better idea of the business set up, but still lots of holes. Reckon we'll have it figured out by this evening.'

'OK. I'm off to brief the Prosecutor. Walter's sending me up to Linz tomorrow to check something out, but I should be back in the afternoon.'

Gunther stared at him for quite a long time, then nodded and went back to his keyboard.

He was in two minds about meeting Neuroth. He was tired, he had an early start the next morning, and he didn't want to spend much time hashing over what, to him, was old news. On the other hand, she seemed less hidebound than most of the other lawyers, and he had to make sure she knew all the facts so they had a prosecutable case. The best way to handle it was to have a quick meeting in her office, give her a brief rundown, then beg off any further discussion.

He found her door open. She was still crouched behind the same files. She straightened up and smiled as he walked in, pushing her glasses up onto her hair.

'Right on time.'

'We aim to please. How are you getting on?'

'I'd be getting on faster if I had a cigarette lighter.'

'Oh, do you smoke? I've got a pack.'

'No I don't. I need a lighter to set fire to this paper. It seems to be the only way to reduce it.'

Heimo grinned, neatly caught out. 'I thought lawyers worshipped paper, the more the better.'

'Those in private practice do because they charge by the page and the hour. Makes all this junk lucrative for them. For me, it's just a pain in the ass.'

She surprised him again with the salty language. 'I sympathize. Every time I leave my desk, a troll sneaks in and fills my in tray.'

She stood up to stretch and he was pleased by the view. She was tall and slender, and curved in the right places. When she shook her head to loosen neck muscles, the thick, rich mane of butterscotch hair swung about her shoulders.

She said, 'I need to get out of here. Can we talk about the case somewhere where they have alcohol?'

He was getting to like this. 'No problem. There's a bistro about a hundred meters from here does a nice line in Italian wines. The owner's a mate.'

'Perfect.' She grabbed a handbag off the back of the chair and said, 'Let's go.'

Heimo was impressed. No powdering her nose, no tidying up the desk, no checking out with the boss, just hit the bricks. She locked the office door, and Heimo gestured to the right.

They emerged into the late afternoon sun, turned their backs to it and walked down to the Rondell Cafe. It was early, but a few of the tables in front were occupied, mostly by women who had finished shopping. Heimo steered Cristina into the main restaurant. Marco, the owner, came out from behind the bar.

'Hello, Heimo. Haven't seen you for a month.'

'Hi, Marco. Marco this is Cristina Neuroth. Cristina, Marco Ranelli.'

Marco exaggerated the bow, and said, 'Welcome Cristina. Heimo, you want the table in the back?'

'Please, and a bottle of something cold and white?' He cocked an inquisitive eye at Cristina. She nodded.

Marco led them to a table tucked away in the rear and screened by a planter. They sat, and he went off to fetch the wine.

Cristina said, 'I presume you've brought lady friends to this table before,' but she was grinning when she said it.

'I conduct a little business here once in a while. It's a quiet place to have a word with people who don't want to be seen with cops. And if I'm here, Marco keeps the rest of the public away. And the food is my kind of cooking.'

'A home away from home.'

Marco hove into view with two sparkling glasses and a cold bottle. He uncorked the wine with an insouciant twist of the wrist and tipped a small measure of pale liquid into Heimo's glass.

Heimo gave it a brief swirl, took a small sip and just leaned back and closed his eyes. It was enough. Marco poured a generous measure in each glass, made an ice bucket appear and left them to it.

Cristina pushed her nose into the glass and breathed deep. She drank, held it for a moment, and let it slide down her throat. 'My compliments to the vintner, whoever he may be. Nectar of the gods, or a reasonable facsimile.'

Heimo smiled. 'Times like this, I think it would be better to just chuck the job and sit in here all day.'

'Tempting. We should go through the investigation before I'm too blotto to understand it.'

'Fair enough.' He tried to take things in a chronological order, sticking to the facts and details the team had uncovered. Because there wasn't much, the recital was a short one.

She said, 'Still no contact with family?'

'No. We've asked the Foreign Ministry to see if they can find out anything from the Beirut Embassy on Thomas, but nothing yet. The other brother and sister could be anywhere - we haven't found anything other than the bare fact of their existence.'

'OK, that's clear. There shouldn't be any problems with the investigation from a legal point of view, although a defense counsel might scream about collecting the computer data. But I think you're on firm ground. So tell me about the "feel".'

He was surprised. 'Feel?'

She smiled. 'I've worked enough criminal cases to know experienced police officers start to develop a feel for a case. The Americans call it "having hunches".' So I wondered if you've had a "hunch" yet.'

'It's true, we do get ideas quite early. But they are often way off base. I've learned to distrust mine. I don't ignore them completely, but they stay in the background until I've got a few facts. In this instance, we think something is not quite right about Falkner's lack of involvement in daily business operations. But we have so little data at the moment, he could be a lot more involved and we just haven't come across it yet.'

'And the murder?'

'None, other than the assumption that it almost has to be connected with Skolnik. But these cases are frustrating. With Skolnik, we never found anyone who had a definable motive. We're just beginning with Falkner, but nothing has jumped out yet. So it's down to slogging through reams of data and interviewing everybody in the province hoping to break something loose.'

She finished her glass. 'So it's not like "Law and Order" or "CSI"?'

He laughed. 'Not even close. I'm always amazed at the body count in those shows. Somebody gets blown away every five minutes.'

'Have to keep the audience excited I suppose. What's your next move?'

'We go through all the computer data looking for indications of financial problems or business rivalries that could point to a suspect. We'll visit the factories and dig into the nuts and bolts. And we hope, if we can find Thomas Falkner, to get something from him that helps. The Drugs unit is trying to trace the cocaine supplier. But it's all sort of a wing and a prayer.'

'Is there anything you need from my office?'

'Don't think so. Depends on what we come up with on the business side.'

She watched as he filled both glasses. 'It occurs to me his will might be interesting. I presume he left everything to his family, but sometimes there are hints that things are not quite straightforward. But we need the brother's concurrence to look at it.'

'Good idea. Change of subject. Would you like to have something to eat?'

She looked at her watch. 'I would, but I can't tonight. Other plans. Let's catch up at the beginning of next week, OK?'

He nodded, more disappointed than he cared to admit. They walked out, and he slapped a note on the bar. Marco gave him a wink.

Heimo was not looking forward to going home alone.

### Chapter 13

The trip to Vienna should have been pleasant - no tourist caravans, sparse traffic, and the weather held fair. But a persistent hangover bored two small holes above his eyes. Fantasies of nailing Mehringer had pestered him throughout the night. So he drove too fast, added to his collection of speed camera tickets, and allowed the spring countryside to pass in a blur.

He called Victor when he was abreast Wiener Neustadt, an agglomeration of business and industry which was steadily advancing towards the capital. Victor answered immediately and sent him an address via text. He reached Vienna at the tail end of the morning rush, and it took him an extra twenty minutes to reach the location.

The building was a nondescript office block of ten floors just off the Inner Ring.

When he got to the front, Victor was waiting. Although they had not seen each other for a few years, Heimo felt a comfortable wash of friendship. They had history, and quite a lot of it was on the hairy side.

'Good to see you, young man. I thought you might have put on some weight, but you're still lean as a greyhound.'

Heimo grinned. 'If only it was rabbits I was chasing. How's it going? You must be moving up in the world.'

'Not sure about up, but it keeps things interesting. Let's go this way.'

He led Heimo down a narrow pedestrian walk until they reached a lone door in the blank wall of the building. Victor punched numbers on a keypad and the door popped open. They stepped through into a small bare room. There was another door flanked by a chest-level counter and a glass window. Behind the window, a young man in a suit watched them. He pushed an electronic tablet through a slot and told Heimo to put all five fingers of his right hand on the screen. After a moment he nodded, and the inner door opened.

Victor led the way down a long corridor then turned into an open plan office with a few desks. Two armchairs squatted in front of a low table which featured a mound of fresh pastries and a large pot of coffee.

'I presume you skipped breakfast,' he said.

'Didn't want to take the time. Besides, I know you and pastry.'

Victor poured coffee for both of them. After a silent five minutes, Heimo wiped his mouth and said, 'I love this stuff, but I couldn't eat it every day. Pure cream and sugar.'

Victor polished off a maple turnover. 'Feels like it's going straight to your arteries, doesn't it?'

'So tell me, James Bond's hangout, right?'

'It's not as fancy as an English setup, but it's adequate. Not many people know about us, and we keep it that way. This place is well below the radar.'

Heimo leaned back. 'Walter knows. He dropped it on me even before I'd said anything.'

Victor grinned. 'I suspected he would. The LKA chiefs were all briefed a while ago after they'd been vetted. I've been here about three months. They stuck me in just after I came back from Angola.'

'Walter says it's about corruption. I was under the impression that was the glue holding the system together.'

'Well, it does make everything sticky, particularly the palms of people on the take. The politicians try to put some teeth into the laws, but it always gets watered down by the special interests. Anyway, there were a few damaging incidents, mostly kept quiet, but they scared people. So they created this unit to root out the worst cases. One of whom might be your victim.'

'We've just started our investigation, and so far no obvious suspects. On the surface, the business appears to be clean. In fact it looks sterile. Falkner has one brother who we think is in Beirut, and a twin brother and sister who are missing. We don't have the ghost of a motive. But we're working on the assumption that the same person killed both Falkner and a man named Skolnik who was found a month ago. The MOs are virtually identical.'

Victor poured himself another cup of coffee. 'I'll give you anything we've got that might bear on the murders. Most of what we're monitoring has no obvious connection, but it's hard to separate what's relevant from what's not. If you find a suspect, call me and we'll check again.' He shook his head. 'Sounds Byzantine, doesn't it?'

Heimo shrugged. 'Better than what we've got so far.'

'Falkner's businesses, as you've discovered, seem legitimate. They were doing what they appeared to be doing and there was no particular reason look any deeper. But just after this unit was set up, someone heard rumor that suggested the Falkners might be engaging in a little illicit arms trading. We had nothing to go on for a while. Then brother Thomas made a trip to Beirut about two months ago. One of our people contacted a friend at Mossad. They checked and it turns out Thomas was meeting a man who is a known arms trader, someone the Israelis keep an eye on.'

'Where is he getting the arms to trade?'

'There's a large clandestine market in private weapons, usually acquired in ones or twos, and funneled through criminal networks to central buyers. We think the Falkners are transferring small amounts of these weapons when they make shipments outside of Europe.

'Mafia?'

'And the Camorra, and god knows who else. Customs people and border control agencies try to bottle things up because that's where the shipments are most vulnerable. Once in a while they get lucky and make a big haul. But the market is huge and worldwide, so it's difficult to put any permanent dents in it.'

'Did Skolnik show up in any of your investigations?'

'No. But we started to turn the wheels when we found out about Falkner. There is a conduit through Italy they may have used and we've asked the Carabinieri to investigate.'

'And how does the corruption angle come into it?'

'Falkner had high level contacts, both in Carinthia and here in Vienna. One of them has been under investigation for some time, but no concrete evidence yet.'

Heimo thought for a while. 'Is Andreas Mehringer on your list?'

'The Vice Governor? No, why?'

'I came across something when I was investigating Skolnik's death. Mehringer freaked and had me pulled off the case. So I wondered.'

'I'll keep it in mind. But we are somewhat handicapped. Everything we do has to be done on the quiet. You've got a nice juicy public murder, so you can trample about without much fuss.'

Victor picked up a folder and opened it. He handed Heimo three sheets of paper. 'These are people, places and times that might be relevant. You can't show it to anyone else, but if you run across connections, tell me and I'll put resources on it. If it helps you catch your guy, we'll just cover up our involvement.'

Heimo glanced through the lists. Many of the names were familiar, although not in connection with police investigations. But one stood out - Andrea Foscari. He said nothing, but his heart jumped.

'OK, I'll keep these in mind. At the moment, I really need to talk to Thomas Falkner. We haven't been able to find out when he's coming back. Can you help?'

Victor scribbled a note. 'Probably. Should know something by the time you get back. One other thing. We planted people in the factories. If you're going to visit, call me and we'll let our man know.'

'We'll need to look at Linz. The day he disappeared, Falkner was supposed to go to a meeting there, but never showed. But it will be a few days before that happens.'

They discussed a few more details, made the usual vague promises to get together, and Victor escorted him back to the main street. Heimo checked his messages and found one from the district nurse saying he was to see a Dr. Waldemar at 1000 on Monday but didn't say if he was to take his father. Perfect timing.

The Heimo who drove back to Klagenfurt was not any happier than the one who had driven up, but for different reasons. Victor's information might be useful, but if he dug into the names too deeply, he'd give the game away, and Mehringer wouldn't ignore it. So for the next two hours, he sorted through ways and means and scenarios, trying to find a way of getting the investigation off the ground. And, in the back of his mind, he worried about Andrea.

By the time he reached Klagenfurt, he'd made a few decisions. He dropped into Walter's office, but the boss was out. So he went to his office and found that his team had apparently not moved since the previous day. They were still glued to their terminals and the piles of printouts beside each had grown deeper.

Heimo said in a loud voice, 'Time out!'

There were creaks and groans from chairs and backs as they levered away from screens. Gunther said, 'How was Linz?'

Heimo looked at him, but Gunther's face was as bland as cotton. 'OK. Nothing to do with this case, though. We're going on a little field trip, so switch off your terminals and stow the paper. Peter, if you've finished, thanks for your help. I'll put in a word with your boss.'

Rossi got up and stretched. 'Any time', he grinned, and sauntered out.

They piled into Heimo's car, and he took them to the edge of town. His destination was another small gasthaus in a suburb of Klagenfurt. He sometimes used it for meetings with snouts. When they pulled in, the owner was just opening the front door.

'Hello Heimo,' she said.

'Hi Janna. Back room available?'

She nodded.

He said, 'Beer for four, please, and we may eat later. All on my tab.'

'Done.' She turned away to the bar, and Heimo led his group into an annex off the main restaurant where there was one large table with benches either side of it.

'Have a seat,' he said. 'Any of you been here?'

Alex nodded. 'About four years ago after a football match.'

'It's old-fashioned, but useful. Janna, the lady you saw, does good beer, good schnitzel and that's all anyone can ask. And she doesn't talk about what she sees.'

They glanced at each other. It was starting to feel like a spy movie.

Janna hove into view with four bottles on a tray in one hand, and a large bowl of pretzels in the other. Setting both down with economical movements, she looked neither left nor right and departed, closing the door behind her.

Heimo took a long appreciative drink. 'I am not trying to be mysterious or melodramatic. But I've been chewing on this case, and I'm convinced the usual routines, while necessary, are not going to help us find this guy.'

He sat. 'Skolnik and Falkner are different from our usual homicides. If they are professional hits, we are unlikely to find the killer except through dumb luck. If they aren't, then they're the work of someone who is intelligent and has a very personal motive. And he left almost no forensic at either site. He might get lucky and do that once, but twice means he's thought it through.'

He crunched a pretzel. 'Then there's the motive. It took considerable planning to get Skolnik out of the way. But he then manages to also decoy Falkner somewhere and kill him the same way, even though Falkner must have been at least slightly on his guard.'

He drained his bottle. The others were so rapt no one had yet taken a drink. 'So I contend that neither has been killed just for business reasons. A contract killer blows away his victims in the most convenient place and leaves the body where it falls. Or he arranges an accident that doesn't appear to be murder.'

As he watched, heads gradually started to nod.

'If it's a crime of passion, we almost always find considerable forensic evidence because the killer hasn't planned anything and makes mistakes. All of which leads me to believe that our killer wanted to confront the victims and was going to do his damnedest to avoid getting caught. So he was out possibly for revenge, and he still has something to lose.'

Gunther and Sigi stared at the table, calculating.

'Any holes in the logic so far?'

Sigi frowned. 'It's like when the Romanian gangs dump their victims here. They just throw them in a ditch - no attempt to hide them or mask how they were killed. So our killer had to know the victims, and he didn't really want them found, at least not quickly.'

The nods got stronger.

Heimo said, 'There's one other thing. I think that both were shot close to where the bodies were discovered rather than moved there afterwards. We've found no evidence of any other crime scenes despite having gone over most of the likely locations. So his ability to get the victims to remote places argues that they trusted him.'

He waited. Gunther finally said, 'So why can't we find him using the normal methods?'

'Because of what happened on the Skolnik investigation. Think about it. Skolnik was well down the food chain, but the investigation got stopped as soon as I started to talk to the big shots. Falkner was much higher up the scale socially and financially. We are going to run across many of the same people, and we'll get the same reaction, probably even stronger. So how do we investigate properly, without being put out to pasture permanently?'

They looked blank. Sigi said, 'Can't be done. We follow any and all leads, talk to anybody who might have information. If we put a bunch of fat cats off limits, we may as well finish now.'

Alex nodded, but Gunther started to look thoughtful. Heimo cocked an eye at him. Gunther said, 'We don't talk to 'em directly, but we do check into their backgrounds and businesses. Quietly.'

Heimo put his thumb up. 'I am proposing an unorthodox investigation. People will become aware of what we are doing, but not why we are doing it. And at each step, we must have ironclad evidence that takes us there.'

Alex frowned. 'I'm lost. Won't we still end up butting into the higher-ups?'

Sigi grinned. 'I get it - politics, right?'

Heimo said, 'You have the floor.'

She worked her way through it. 'Say we find out that the Falkners buy materials from a company on a regular basis. So we go to that company and ask people the normal questions about their arrangements, shipments, finances, etcetera. We know the business is owned by some big noise, but we never contact him directly. If he objects, we have a perfect right to investigate the victim's livelihood, and Augustin can't shut things down without looking like he's covering up a homicide. And we keep following the chains as far as they go. That it?'

'You get a gold star. One other thing. I have information that we can use to get us started. I can't tell you where it came from, but it's good stuff. Any problem with that?'

Gunther grinned, Sigi shook her head, and Alex still looked confused.

Heimo waited a moment. 'You each need to decide if you want to be in on this. And it is optional. If you want out, nothing adverse will be said or done. I'm not proposing to do anything illegal, but this might well be dangerous from a career standpoint.'

He looked from face to face. Sigi and Gunther leaned forward, expectant. Alex had his arms across his chest, but he nodded once.

It was all the answer Heimo needed.

### Chapter 14

Despite his confident planning with the team, if things went wrong, he was almost certain to be cashiered. He had to grit his teeth and hope the reward outweighed the risk.

His phone buzzed - Gaby.

'Hi, Heimo, I feel like a drink. Are you finished yet?'

'Just. Where do you want to go?'

'Let's sit on the Terrace and look at the lights.' She was referring to a restaurant up on the hill overlooking the city. The owner was another of Heimo's old friends, which made him wonder if he ate out too often.

She had a table when he got there, a big goblet of Pinot Grigio sitting in front of her. He signaled to the waiter for the same, kissed Gaby on the cheek and sat down. The view over the parapet encompassed most of the city's churches, like seeing the Vatican with onion domes.

'How are you getting on?' she said. 'I heard about the Falkner death and I wondered if you might be handling it.'

'It's less fun than some other things I can think of. We're walking on eggshells because of the political environment.'

'I meant to ask you, how did the hearing go?'

'Generally, a farce. Augustin was livid because I'd upset his boss, but there wasn't much he could do except tell Walter to hammer me. Loss of three months' pay.' He grinned. 'Suspended for a year unless I step in it again. Which I hope to avoid. How are you anyway? How did you get on in Villach?'

'Very well. A successful presentation and great contacts. But it also produced a problem. I have to go to Frankfurt.'

'Why is that a problem?'

'No, I mean I need to move there. For the foreseeable future anyway.'

'Ah.'

'Heimo to be fair, I think we've about come to the end of the street, don't you? We are both so busy we don't see much of each other, our schedules are always in conflict, and we struggle just to manage a drink.'

He stared into his glass. 'I suppose you're right. I...I guess I don't think about it often. The last couple of months have been hectic. And the time just goes by. Is this thing in Frankfurt important?'

She nodded. 'It is. It will make us. It's a direct tie-in with one of the biggest conglomerates in Europe.'

'Wouldn't be fair to ask you not to go, would it?' He sighed. 'Maybe you're right. Things seem to have run their course.' He looked up and saw her frown. 'Are you upset?'

'Not really, at least as far as I'm concerned. It's become too much like work to get together. But I don't want to upset you. I'm fond of you, you know. We don't talk about things very often, which is maybe part of the problem. And we don't really have an emotional connection, do we?'

His knee-jerk reaction was to deny that, but he couldn't with any justice. 'We're "just friends" aren't we?'

'We are, and I hope we go on being friends. It's not a bad thing. But as boyfriend-girlfriend, we lost that some while back.'

He shook his shoulders and stretched his neck. 'Well, I guess all I can do is wish you well in Frankfurt. When are you going?'

They fell into small talk about inconsequential details, and he realized they usually talked that way. No depth, and nothing personal, just chitchat. They decided to have a farewell dinner since neither of them had anything scheduled for the evening.

And it was OK. They were friends, he did like her, but there was nothing strong or passionate about the relationship. If he didn't see her for a year, he wouldn't miss her, and they could pick up where they left off without missing a beat.

When he kissed her goodbye in the car park, his mind was already moving back to Gerhard Falkner. And from nowhere, an image of Cristina Neuroth's butterscotch hair popped up.

Halfway home he remembered he'd promised to deliver some groceries to his father. He stopped by a late opening supermarket and wandered about the aisles like a housewife looking for value meals. Erich seldom bothered to cook for himself although he was competent at the basics. Trying to buy him something with good nutrition, but easy enough to make so it didn't rot in the refrigerator, was a minor challenge.

As usual, Heimo opted for bread, cheese and salami, threw in a variety of fruit, and added a six-pack of beer. He'd thought about cooking a meal for the old man occasionally, but the prospect of fighting over trivia for an hour was unappetizing in the extreme.

Erich's door was closed despite the fine quality of the evening, and Heimo could hear the television. The volume was low enough not to bother the neighbors. He knocked and walked in. Erich sat in the same position as when Heimo had last seen him. Heimo muttered a greeting and carried the food through to the small, neat kitchen. He stowed everything away, then stuck his head through the hatch. 'Want a beer, Dad?'

Erich nodded. Heimo opened two and took them out. He put one on the table next to his father and stood for a moment trying to figure out what idiocy the television was promoting.

Erich said, 'Heard about that bastard Falkner. You?'

Heimo was so startled, he didn't answer for a moment. He could not remember his father ever asking anything about his job or investigations. 'Yes it's my case. Why do you say he's a bastard?'

'Stole everything we had.'

Heimo shook his head a few times, like boxer who'd taken two quick hooks. 'I've never heard this. What did he take?'

Nothing. Heimo repeated it. 'Dad, what did Falkner take?'

Erich said, 'Who?' Heimo knew he'd faded away into another place. But it made him wonder.

Erich was lucid most of the time. And when he was, he and Heimo communicated after a fashion, constrained by emotion rather than language. But it had not always been that way.

Heimo and his brother got on well with their father before their mother died. Erich had been away for much of their childhood trying to make a living in hard times. Most of the other families they knew were the same, so they never felt deprived. And when Erich was home, he was a reasonable father. He often took the boys up into the forests and taught them things Heimo retained to this day.

But it all changed when his wife died. The young boys grieved, but Erich lost a piece of himself. He stopped talking except for monosyllables. He stayed away working for longer periods, and interaction with his sons almost ceased. Heimo tried to look after his younger brother. But Hugo overflowed with resentment, and the family never recovered. Now men, the sons maintained a painful distance, talking when they had to and avoiding each other as a matter of routine. And Erich virtually stopped communicating.

For years, Heimo accepted the status quo. But, as his father became increasingly incoherent, he'd been forced to re-examine the situation. Things were changing. Maybe he needed to change as well. And if he was honest, he missed seeing his nieces grow up, and having someone to share the load.

And now this. Was there a connection between his family and the Falkners? Or was Erich rambling and confused?

He patted his father's shoulder and said goodbye. He was halfway home before he remembered he hadn't told Erich he about seeing the doctor again.

### Chapter 15

Walter stood outside his office talking to Karl Halegger as Heimo came up the stairs before the morning briefing. He was about to turn into the canteen when Walter waved him on.

Karl said, 'We may have the bullet from the Falkner killing. Dug it out of a tree near the grave. It looks like a nine-millimeter, but it's pretty beat up.'

'Any chance of ballistics?' Walter asked.

Karl shook his head. 'There are a couple of grooves showing on the back, but nothing that would stand up in court. You find me the gun and I might be able to make a guess at a match. But we should get enough tissue for a DNA analysis.'

Heimo said, 'Every little bit helps. What about the tire tracks?'

'Almost the same situation. We only have a negligible amount of tread in the cast. It could be from any one of four tires, but thousands of them have been sold across Europe. If you find the car, we can at least get a partial match, but I can't narrow it down for you.'

Walter said, 'OK, thanks Karl.'

He and Heimo went into the office. Walter looked at him for a moment and sipped his coffee. 'How's Victor?'

'Doing well I think, but it's a real spook operation. Not sure whether he likes it or not.'

Walter grunted. 'Doubt it. He's more of an action man. Not a cerebral philosopher like you.'

Heimo pulled out the list of names and places. 'They've been looking at Falkner for a possible tie-in to illegal arms trading. Victor gave me this. If we run across the same names, we'll share information. But he has nothing specific for me. The brother, Thomas, is meeting with a known trader in Beirut, and Victor is trying to dig up a flight booking for his return.'

Walter went through the list, nodding once or twice. 'Not too many on our patch.' He looked up after a moment. 'So how will you play it?'

'Half the cops in Europe are after the organized criminals. We're not going to add much to that effort. So we chase the other possibility; we assume someone around here is the killer and he or she did it for the customary old motives.' And when he explained what he had in mind, Walter went blank for quite a while.

'You ever shoot craps?'

Heimo shook his head. 'Why?'

'You're a real plunger. You're betting the farm on this, aren't you?'

The simile made Heimo wince. 'More or less. I've told the team and offered to let them out, no questions asked. But they're sticking.'

'I wouldn't expect anything else. They understand the risk?'

Heimo nodded.

'OK, it might work if you're discreet, but there's a limit to how much I can cover you.'

'I don't intend to just flail around. We'll be choosy about who, when and where. But plodding away and hoping someone else will do the job is not going to work. And I need a warrant to search the Falkner house.'

Walter nodded. 'Under the circumstances, I don't see any objection. Have a word with Neuroth. And for God's sake, keep me briefed.'

Heimo grinned. 'I learned that one, at least.'

He went back to the office to be confronted by wary faces. He rotated his thumb up. No cheers, but there were a couple of fist pumps.

'I'm going out to the Falkner house, just in case we've missed something. Halegger thinks he might have found the bullet, but it's not likely to help - too damaged. Same for the tire tracks.'

He thought for a moment. 'Sigi, concentrate on digging up these twins, unless of course they're actually dead. Gunther, I want you to go to Linz and poke around but wait until I get back with the warrant for the house search; I've got some information you'll need. Anything from the office computers I should know about?'

Gunther shook his head. 'Nothing. Bland as dishwater. No bad personnel reports, no complaints from anyone, and all the financial documents and tax records look so neat the accountant can't believe it.'

'Good, even more reason to dig into his personal life. We also need the details on their banking arrangements, both business and private.'

Alex said, 'One new piece to the puzzle. We've had the vehicle information.' He picked up a sheet of paper from his desk. 'They own two, both registered to the company. One is a Range Rover, two years old, and the other is a Mercedes S class, three months old. I asked Customs to check the airport parking lot with both registration numbers, and the Mercedes is there. No sign of the Range Rover, but I've put the word out.'

'If you find the Rover, get Karl on it immediately and see if he can match those tire casts. Give me a buzz if anything else turns up.'

Morning briefing turned up nothing in the way of useful information.

Heimo checked in with Greta at the Prosecutor's office. 'Morning, my sweet. Is Cristina...Ms. Neuroth in?'

Greta snickered. 'Yes Herr Chief Inspector Kapeller, Prosecutor Neuroth is available,' she sing-songed. She stuck her tongue out. 'Cristina thought you might stop by. She's in her office.'

Properly chastened, he walked down the hall, knocked once and entered at the muffled 'Come!'

Cristina's desk had somehow cleared itself except for one thick file. There was also a large vase of carnations on a small table next to the desk, and he noticed several pictures in silver frames.

'Good morning, Heimo. How is it going?'

'Maybe a little better. What happened to all the paperwork?'

'Greta and I did a major re-shuffle and got rid of most of it. About eighty percent of it can wait until the next century without causing any problems. I told Herr Friesacher I need to concentrate on this case, and when I mentioned the high profile, he agreed.'

He updated her, omitting any mention of Victor. 'We've decided to spend most of our time on his business and family life, and not worry too much about the other options like a contract hit.'

She gave him a rather penetrating look but did not reply directly. 'I've been thinking along similar lines. I checked the register of court cases and judgements, then I looked up births, deaths and marriages to build a picture of their history.'

'Thanks. One of my people is doing the same thing, but he's not getting anywhere. I'm convinced the more we know about him, the closer we get to finding why he was killed. Did you come up with anything?'

'Not yet. The files are not always where you expect them to be, so I have to do a lot of shuffling through dusty boxes, but it's coming along. What can I do for you?'

Heimo explained. She said. 'It will take about thirty minutes. Do you want to wait?'

'No, I'm swamped. Can you have it sent over to my office?'

She assented, and he left with the same indefinable sense of satisfaction he'd had the last time.

Gunther was waiting when he got back. 'Helga packed me a bag. I assume I'll be gone over night.'

'You will. Let's go down to your car.'

When they got there, Heimo said, 'Keep this under your hat. There's another investigation underway into Falkner's business activities. An undercover agent is working in the factory in Linz. I have no idea who he is or what he's doing, and I don't think you'll have any contact with him, but I need to let his people know you're coming. You do what you have to do and don't worry about him. Stir things up and get in the manager's face. If they object to you looking into anything, call me and I'll ask Neuroth to get a warrant from the prosecutors there.'

Gunther nodded. 'No problem. I've got printouts from the computer system, and a list of things worth checking. Give you a bell this afternoon. Do the people in the factory know I'm coming?'

'No, and I don't want them to. If you catch them off guard, you may learn more.'

Heimo made a quick call to Victor, then went back to the office. A courier was standing in the lobby with a package. Heimo signed for it and tore the envelope open. It was the warrant.

He drove to the victim's house with no real expectations of finding useful evidence. Falkner had been too careful to avoid any mistakes that might lead to questions being asked. What Heimo needed was something personal, some small insignificant thing showing that Gerhard Falkner had a life. Because up to this point, he looked more like a hologram than a human being.

The sun was warm again and the sky was beginning to show a little haze, but the dappling of the driveway was as pretty as the last time. When he pulled up to the front of the house, he first looked toward the stable block but saw no one. He waited. A few minutes later, a patrol car showed up.

A young uniformed officer got out of the car and saluted. 'Chief Kapeller?'

Heimo nodded. 'You are?'

'Inspector Vannig, sir, St. Veit.'

'I've got a warrant to search this house, and I need a witness. Have you been here before?'

'Once, about five years ago.'

'What was the occasion?'

'We had a report there was a loud party. It was about two in the morning. We came up and there was a party, but nothing unusual. Not too much noise or anything.'

'What happened?'

'There was a guard at the front door. He had a radio and he called someone inside, then asked us to wait for a minute. Because there was no obvious problem, we did. About five minutes later, my colleague got a call from our chief; he said it was a mistake and we were to leave.'

Interesting party. 'Thank you, I'll have a word with him. Now, let's have a look and see if there is any way in where I don't have to crack a window. There's a small break at the back, but it's not big enough to be helpful.'

This time Heimo went around the right side of the house. The forest came closer on this side and the ground was not as well kept. But there were no doors and the windows all seemed to be locked.

Vannig shook his head when they met. 'Shut up tight.'

Heimo examined the window next to the two rear doors. He could just see through to a pantry, shelves bare of anything but a few tins. Heimo told the Inspector to stand back, and he cracked the pane with a tire iron, then used it to clear away the fractured glass. He got his arm in and managed to release the lock. The frame swung in with a protesting squeak.

'Hang on a minute and I'll unlock this door.' He climbed through, came back via a short hall and released the old-fashioned deadlock. The door swung in on its own.

'As far as we are aware, the house is not a crime scene, but take care anyway.'

They started to explore. Most of the rooms were small for such a large house, and though all were full of heavy nineteenth century pieces of mahogany, they gave the impression of being museum exhibits rather than in regular use.

Heimo said, 'Do you patrol the village?'

'Yes sir.'

'There's a couple there who keep house for the Falkners and do the garden. Know them?'

'No, but I can check. One of our men lives just outside the village.' He turned away and pulled his phone out.

Heimo prowled. He found nothing to interest him until he got to a large room decorated in a more modern style. There were photographs on two of the tables, and a few portraits on the walls. The room had a much more lived in feel. There was no television, but one cabinet held a stereo system, and a mahogany bar with numerous bottles and glasses behind it enveloped a corner.

Heimo examined the photographs. Most were faded black and white portraits in the style of the early twentieth century. One was more recent. It showed a family group of two parents and five children who looked to range in age from perhaps fourteen to two or three. Heimo wondered if it was the whole Falkner clan.

Inspector Vannig came into the room. 'My colleague says the woman comes three days a week to clean, but only if she's called. The husband looks after the grounds but comes much less often. If you need to talk to them, I have the name and address.'

'Good. We may see them when we finish here. Let's go upstairs and poke around.'

The entrance hall and stairway were operatic. The place seemed designed to impress rather than serve as a comfortable home. At the top of the stairs, a gallery ran to each side.

Heimo gestured to the left. 'I'll take the rooms down here, you do the others. I'm only interested in those that appear to be in normal use.' Vannig nodded and started down the landing.

There were three doors on the right of the gallery. Two were bedrooms, furnished but sterile. The third led into an enormous bedroom with an attached bathroom. Someone lived in this one. Heimo paused at the door and looked around. There were enough personal items and clothing to tell him a male used the room, but it had been cleaned and tidied. He decided to leave it for the moment.

Vannig called, 'Sir this one looks occupied.' He was standing at the other end of the landing looking in the corresponding door. Obviously the two master suites. So where did the missing twins live?

Heimo walked down the landing and Vannig held the door open. The room was like the other but had been left in disarray. The housekeeper hadn't been here. Heimo reckoned this was Gerhard's room, and the other belonged to Thomas.

'Wait here,' he said, and went in. He wanted to dig through drawers and poke around in wardrobes, but he decided the risk was too great. If there was any worthwhile evidence, the fact he'd touched it might make it useless. While he stood there, undecided, his phone buzzed.

Victor said, 'Just got word. Thomas Falkner is due in Rome on a flight from Athens at 1800 tomorrow. I'm assuming he'll go back to Klagenfurt, but we're still looking for a connection.'

'Thanks. They use a charter outfit. We'll check and see if they're picking him up.'

He called Alex and gave him the itinerary. 'I want Forensics to do a full search of this house. Call Halegger but tell him I don't want any more disturbance than necessary.'

Heimo looked around the bedroom one last time and was about to leave when he saw a small book on a dresser to his right. He picked it up by its edges and opened it. It was another address book. And this one had names and telephone numbers in it.

### Chapter 16

He stuck his feet up on the desk and inspected his prize. Most of the entries were names or initials with a phone number. Heimo wondered about the absence of a mobile phone on the victim as well as the missing car. Together they showed a lot of premeditation. Records from the telecoms company listed a phone registered to Thomas Falkner, but none to Gerhard. He might have been using a cheap, throwaway model, but not having one at all was unimaginable for a contemporary executive.

Heimo leafed through the book. Best to just start calling. He opened it to the middle and found a J. Marendorf. He keyed the number and waited. It rang five times, and a male voice answered.

Heimo said, 'Mr. Marendorf?'

'Yes. Who is this?'

Heimo identified himself. 'We understand you were an associate of Gerhard Falkner?'

'Oh, is that what this is about? I read about Gerhard's death. How did you know my number?'

'It was filed in Falkner's records. May I ask what your relationship was?'

'Well, I suppose you could say we were colleagues, although my firm is in another industry. But we met through the Rosenheim Fund.'

It looked like Ozerna's information was spot on.

The Rosenheim Fund had been set up by several big corporations as a way of raising money to be distributed to supposedly charitable causes. Good PR for everyone. It was also suspected of diverting cash to politicians. As far as Heimo was aware, it was legal, but it had been tarnished by scandals over the years. And anywhere there was political funds was a place Heimo wanted to learn more about.

He thanked Marendorf and rang off, hoping he hadn't provoked the man sufficiently to start any complaints.

They would have to go through the names in the book and cross-check them against those Sigi had transcribed from the office records. He browsed the book, searching for anyone he recognized. None were familiar, but one intrigued him. It was a first name, Elizabeth, and there had been four numbers recorded for her which had been crossed out successively as she acquired new ones. It was impossible to tell how long the entry had been there, but the number of changes was unusual.

He glanced up when he heard the printer chatter. Sigi got up, stretched and went to the coffee machine. She looked at Heimo and held her cup up. He nodded and said, 'How are you getting on?'

'Just finished. That's the list printing out. There aren't many, but it took a while to go through everything.'

'I've got something to add to it.'

Sigi brought both coffees over to his desk, then fetched the printout. She sat down and he showed her the volume. 'Found this in his bedroom, at least I think it's his, although it could be Thomas's. Anyway, it's the first personal item we've found. I've been through it, and it's just names and numbers. Probably means it's people he didn't need detailed information about. I called one of them, a man named Marendorf, who says he's a business colleague. Said he didn't know the Falkners well, but he met Gerhard through the Rosenheim Fund.'

Sigi grinned. 'Follow the money, as they say. Getting into the Rosenheim should make some waves.'

'I hope so. We need to cross-check the names in here with the ones on your printout and see if there are any matches. But one entry jumped out.' He opened the book to the listing for Elizabeth and showed it to Sigi.

She looked at it and said, 'Girlfriend?'

'Might be. Let's check the others and leave her for last.'

He read the entries, and she checked names against the printout. There were three matches and a few maybes on the initials. The matches were all suppliers of various goods.

Heimo said, 'When you collected these from the office, did you find any you know.'

She shook her head. 'A couple are familiar, but that's all.'

'Odd, isn't it? This man is supposed to be a powerful, well-known businessman, but it's amazing how little there is to connect him to anything any of us knows. Gives me the definite feeling there's something hidden in the woods.'

'How do you want to handle these names?'

'We'll divide them up and start calling. We need to do it without raising too many hackles.'

The canteen was busy during the lunch break, and the smell of cigarettes and schnitzel was thick and pungent. They collected food and drinks and headed for a table. An officer named Klaus Lammer who worked Vice came over and said, 'Heimo, I think I might have something for you.'

Heimo gestured at a vacant chair. 'Any man with information is always welcome.'

Lammer said, 'The Falkners use the Casino at Velden quite often. Thomas is pretty conservative, doesn't lose much. Gerhard was a plunger - not always, but frequently. The Casino gave them a private room with their own dealer. The description the pit boss gave me makes Thomas out to be a bit of a Puritan. Tried to keep Gerhard in check and complained about any losses, fussed about too much drinking. The boss suspected Gerhard of doing a little snow in the toilet - he'd come out all hyped-up. But he was a good customer, dropped a fair amount of money, so they turned a blind eye. And they swear he brought the junk with him, didn't get it in the Casino.'

'Anyone else ever with him, like friends or women?'

'Not recently. My man said he used to bring a woman sometimes, a redhead, but he hasn't seen her in maybe eighteen months.'

Heimo thanked Lammer, and the officer went back to his table.

Heimo grinned. 'There goes the halo and the angel wings. This sounds more promising.'

They decided to start with the names on the printout. 'Since these came from the office records, they can't deny a connection. So we'll tell them that's where we got them and ask them to confirm the relationship. If they seem comfortable, talk about their business with Falkner. If they're reluctant, just thank them and make a note. We'll dig into them later without any further direct contact.'

Heimo took his section of the list and started at the top. But the first two numbers he called were busy. Then his mobile buzzed.

Gunther said, 'I'm here, but they're not rolling out the red carpet. In fact, they don't seem happy to see me. I told the manager to round up his department heads. I'll tackle 'em in a group, then separate them and start digging. I'm sure I'll need a warrant if I come up with anything.'

'Call Neuroth direct. She's expecting it and may already have contacted the Prosecutor's office there. I've passed the word on the other matter, but he won't talk to you unless something unusual happens.'

'Wish me luck.'

He started again with the phone calls. It was a long process, most people being less than happy to hear from the police. There were a few expressions of regret over Falkner's death, but those who mentioned it were notable for insincerity. Gerhard was apparently not a man who inspired affection or loyalty. Each claimed a business connection, no one admitted to having been at his house, and only two owned up to any kind of social contact. Marendorf was the single individual to mention the Rosenheim Fund.

The picture of the Falkner empire began to fill in, and Heimo hoped Victor could use the information. But no sign of any enraged rival, or someone planning a hostile takeover. Everyone denied having any idea who could have committed such a 'horrible crime/terrible thing/foul deed/unbelievable something-or-other.' By the fifth call, the officers were reduced to muttering "yes, yes" to the spurious expressions of shock.

At the end of ninety minutes, Heimo called a halt. 'Any names you haven't tried?' Head shakes. 'OK, based on who you've talked to, anything worth following up?'

Alex said, 'Got a couple of people who were unusually evasive, one from the business list and one from the address book.'

'I've got three as well. Sigi, consolidate a list, and we'll do a little research. Alex, make a diagram of who's a customer and who's a supplier and what they buy or sell; give us better picture of the organization. And highlight anyone we know to be a big noise, or who might have pull in the right circles. Those are the ones we'll lean on if we can figure out a way to do it.'

Heimo went down the hall and looked into the Drugs office. One officer, Jurgen Seidl, sat at his computer, making entries from a stack of forms.

'Hello, Heimo, what can we do for you?'

'Hi, Jurgen. Seems our boy Falkner spent time at the Velden Casino and did some coke while losing his money. Any idea who the most likely supplier would be?'

Seidl rocked back in his chair and lit a cigarette. 'There were three who operated around there. One of 'em hangs out in the Casino area, but he does mostly pot, and I doubt if he's respectable enough for someone like Falkner. Another is Gans Forster, and I've no idea what he's doing these days. And there used to be a guy who did maintenance at the Schloss Hotel. He shifted a fair amount of coke, but I'm not sure if he's still in circulation. Best man to talk to is Cervinka. The west side of the lake is his patch.'

Heimo's gut rumbled. 'Thanks, I'll put one of my guys on it.'

Seidl waved and turned back to his screen. 'Any time.'

Sigi had a list of the people who hadn't been available on the first calls. She said, 'I've tried a few of these again, but no luck.'

'Ok, we'll go again this afternoon.' He looked at his watch. 'I've got an appointment. Did you try the Elizabeth number?'

'No answer and no machine either.'

'Right, I'll be back later. My phone will be off but leave a message if you need me.'

He drove over to a shopping center car park, as anonymous a place as any in the modern world. He pulled his cheap phone out of the box under the seat and keyed in Andrea's number.

It rang three times, then he thumbed it off.

Two minutes later she called back. Her voice sounded like a receptionist, so he knew she could be overheard. 'Just listen, OK? There's a corruption investigation underway, and your name is on the list. I have no idea why, but you need to destroy your phone. Don't call me unless you get pulled in, or anything else happens that worries you. I'll contact you as soon as I can. Got it?'

'Thank you for calling sir. We'll take care of that immediately.'

### Chapter 17

Alex and Sigi were busy on phones and computers. Sigi said, 'Got some info from the telecoms people. The woman in the address book is Elizabeth Fleissner. She's near Canndorf. Still no answer on her phone. How do you want to handle it?'

Heimo thought for a moment. 'Anything else?'

'No. She's not on our files.'

'OK, let's go see if she's in. Alex, how are the other calls coming?'

'Slow. Got two appointments for Monday. Getting a lot of interesting resistance, so I hope they'll be worthwhile.'

'Let's go, Sigi.'

The drive to the woman's house took too long and gave him too much time to worry. 'Sigi, if she's there, you handle the interview. I want to watch her.'

She grinned. 'No problem.'

Canndorf, a hamlet about a kilometer from the main road, consisted of ten modern houses, each painted a different bright color, and each built in the same general style. All the gardens were well kept, and most had children's toys scattered about. The Fleissner woman's house was the last one on a lane that ended just beyond her drive. A flattened area at the edge of the tarmac served as a turn-around. Sigi made the swing, then stopped before she regained the paving.

'Car in the garage. I could just see it through the window.'

'Could be we're in luck. Let's do it.'

She parked in front of the house. Heimo opened an ornamental iron gate and they walked up a stone-flagged path. Sigi leaned on the bell for a moment, then tucked her thumbs in her belt in a way that shouted "cop". Heimo was aware of a curtain twitch at one of the front windows, then the door opened.

The woman who stared at them was a tall, middle aged redhead with the milk-white skin and freckles of an Irish colleen. Her glance went from one to the other. Before Sigi could say anything, she said, 'Police.' It wasn't a question.

Sigi nodded and showed her ID card. 'Inspector Brumnig and Inspector Kapeller. You are Elizabeth Fleissner?'

She nodded.

'May we come in?'

Ms. Fleissner, stared for a further long moment, then turned and walked back into the house, leaving the door to them.

She led them to a medium sized sitting room, tasteful but anonymous, furnished with a matching suite, a few occasional tables and the odd figurine. She sat down in an armchair, tucked her legs up under her and waved them to a settee.

Sigi went straight for it. 'Why did you think we were police?'

The woman shook her head. 'I assumed you'd find me sooner or later. It's about Gerhard, of course.'

'It is. I presume you know what happened. May I ask what your relationship with Mr. Falkner was?'

Fleissner lit a cigarette, and her fingers trembled. Her face was blank but showed strain around a tight mouth. 'I'm his...was his mistress.' She managed a small brittle grin. 'An old-fashioned term, I guess. I imagine it's "partner" or something now.'

'Why do you use it if you think it's old fashioned?'

'He liked it, liked to think of me that way. Made him feel sophisticated I suppose.'

Heimo glanced around the room. While it looked normal, it also looked impersonal. There were no photos, nothing that spoke of the character of the occupant, and there was nothing masculine. Strange man, Falkner. It was as if everything around him had been sterilized.

Sigi said, 'We are investigating his death. Although it has not been publicized, I must tell you it was not accidental.'

Fleissner's face froze. 'Meaning?'

'He was murdered.'

The woman's breath shuddered. Tears started from her eyes and washed out furrows on her cheeks. She made no attempt to brush them away.

Sigi said, 'I'm sorry to bring you such bad news.'

Fleissner stubbed out her cigarette. She got up and went into the kitchen. After a moment, she returned with a tissue, dabbing at her blotched skin. She sat and buried her face in her hands.

Sigi waited.

After a few moments, Fleissner raised her head and tried to wipe away the moisture. To Heimo, who had seen far too much of it, her grief seemed genuine. The reason for the grief was not as obvious.

Sigi said, 'We need to find out as much about Mr. Falkner as we can. Do you have any objection to talking to us?'

She shook her head, her eyes still welling. 'No. What do you want to know?'

'How long have you been in the relationship?'

'About six years.'

'And how did you meet him?'

'We've known each other for a long time. He and my sister were in school together.'

'Did Mr. Falkner live here or stay here with any frequency?'

'He never lived here. He came almost every week, sometimes for a day or two, but it varied.'

'Do you work?'

'Yes, I'm a commercial property agent.'

'And when was the last time you saw him?'

She sniffed and blotted her eyes. 'Ten or eleven days ago. Monday of last week I think.'

'Are you sure?'

She nodded.

'Did he seem in any way concerned or upset?'

'No. He came for lunch about one, stayed an hour or so, and then left.'

'Had you made any arrangements to see him again?'

She shook her head, staring at the carpet. 'He would call me when he was...available.' She looked up, face twisted. 'Makes me sound like a whore, doesn't it? But it wasn't that way!'

It was a cry from the heart, but Heimo wondered how Falkner saw it.

Fleissner's reactions seemed normal. There was emotion, but also intelligence. He had no sense she was the type of woman who would put a bullet in a man's head either through jealousy or ill-use.

Sigi said, 'We're not here to judge you, Ms. Fleissner. We are just trying to catch whoever did this. It would help if you could give us a better picture of Mr. Falkner. We have yet to find anyone who seemed to know him well on a personal level.'

Fleissner shook her head. 'I don't think he had many friends, he was too...private I guess. He seldom talked about other people, so I can't tell you much about that side.'

Heimo said, 'What about his businesses? Did he discuss them?'

'No, never. You probably know more about them than I do. There was something in the paper about him once in a while, but he didn't talk about it, and I didn't ask.'

Sigi said, 'Did the two of you go out together?'

'We used to, but it has been some time.'

Heimo decided to deliver a jolt. 'During the autopsy, we found evidence Mr. Falkner had been using cocaine. Did he use it here?'

Her eyes narrowed. 'Drugs? You are mistaken. He would never touch anything like that. He didn't even drink much, just a glass of wine or a beer. But drugs - no.' Her voice flattened and she fumbled for another cigarette.

'I am afraid the evidence was conclusive. Excuse me, but may I use your bathroom?'

She nodded and pointed. 'Through there on the left.'

He made his way down a short hall. He closed the door and looked around. The bathroom was always a good place to look into people's domestic arrangements. No shaving crème or razors, and only a single toothbrush in this one. He opened the cabinet. Aspirin, toothpaste, the usual items. There was a single bottle of aftershave lotion, but nothing else. It looked as though there had never been a man in the place. He flushed the toilet and went back to the living room.

Fleissner was saying, 'We did go to the Casino three or four times, but it was several years ago. It was just some place to visit. Gerhard was not a gambler. We played roulette for a few Euros, but nothing big.' She looked at Heimo. 'Find what you were looking for?'

He stared at her for a moment. No flies on this one. 'Yes and no. Does this house belong to you?'

A little twitch of alarm wrinkled her nose. 'No. Or at least...I'm not sure?'

'Why is that?'

'Gerhard bought it. He told me it would always be mine. I never gave it much thought. But I don't know if he did anything legal about it like put it in his will. So I'm not sure if it's mine or not.'

Sigi said, 'Do you know any of the other members of the family?'

'Elinor and Joseph. We were at school together.'

'What can you tell us about them?'

Her nose wrinkled again. 'I haven't seen them in years.'

'But?'

She sighed. 'In those days they were pretty bad. They were into drugs, they liked to party, they were always getting into scrapes. Gerhard had to bail them out more than once, but it got to the point where he told them he would no longer be responsible. I think they left the area, but I have no idea where they are. I assume they're together. They were inseparable. You know they are twins?'

Sigi nodded. 'And the younger brother, Thomas?'

Fleissner shook her head. 'I met him once a long time ago. He was still a boy. I know he worked in the company with Gerhard, but nothing else.'

Heimo said, 'Ms. Fleissner at the moment we have no idea who committed this crime. I am concerned about that for several obvious reasons, but it also makes me wonder if anyone else is at risk. It's possible Mr. Falkner's murder may be connected with the death of a man named Skolnik. Do you know him?'

Her jaw set. 'Matthias Skolnik? I know who he is.'

'He was killed the same way as Mr. Falkner. How do you know him?'

She pushed back in the chair and wrapped her arms about her chest. 'I said we went to the Casino a few times. Twice while we were there, this man Skolnik came up to Gerhard to talk to him. The first time, Gerhard introduced me and he spent a little time with us. But Gerhard wasn't happy about it. The second time, they went off a little way and had some words. Gerhard was angry. I think that was why we stopped going there.'

'When was this?'

'Two years ago, maybe a little less. It was in the summer.'

'And did Mr. Falkner tell you anything about Skolnik, what they argued about, anything like that?'

She shook her head.

Heimo glanced at Sigi who said, 'Can you think of any other information that might help us?'

She looked at them for a moment. 'Am I in danger?'

Heimo said, 'Not as far as we know, but we don't have much yet. Who else knew about your relationship?'

'I don't think he ever told anyone. The neighbors know he visits here, and someone may have recognized him, but he did not, at least to my knowledge, tell anyone about us. He liked the fact it was our little secret. I certainly didn't talk about it.'

'Then there is probably little danger to you. If you feel you would like to go elsewhere until this has been cleared up, I understand. But we need to know where you are.' He handed her a card. 'Please call me anytime if you have any concerns. Or if you remember anything which might help us.'

Ms. Fleissner stood, arms still holding her tight. When Heimo closed the gate on their way out, she'd shut the door, but he could see her peering through the curtains.

On the drive back Sigi said, 'Not a lot of use although it does help with the timeline if he was alive on Monday. Could have left here and gone to meet whoever killed him. She knew about the coke, though.'

Heimo agreed. 'Bloody difficult to get our arms around this guy. It's as though he never talked to anyone about anything. The brother and sister don't sound too pure. Maybe some family problems we can't see yet. Even if there are, it wouldn't account for Skolnik.'

'But we do seem to keep running across drugs. And Skolnik. Maybe he was the connection.'

Heimo turned his phone on. After a moment, the screen flashed showing he had a message. It came from a number he didn't recognize. It said, "Rinaldi dead".

### Chapter 18

At the office, Heimo told Sigi to go on ahead. He waited until she was out of sight, then called Victor.

'What's up old man?' his colleague asked.

'I heard a while back about a drug dealer or smuggler named Rinaldi who may or may not be involved with the murders. Now I've just been told he's dead. Do you have anything on him?'

Victor cleared his throat. 'Bingo, as the Americans say. What's your source?'

'Rather not say - deep cover thing. Is he connected to the case?'

'Possibly. What we know is the Italian police fished him out of a river yesterday. Looks like he was garroted. We think he may have been involved with the Falkners. Our man in Linz overheard a conversation in which Rinaldi was mentioned twice. But it wasn't about drugs.'

'How did the Italian police know to call you?'

'They didn't. We hope they've never heard of us. This came via another source I can't mention, but it gave us the information about Rinaldi a couple of hours ago. Can you tell me what the connection is at your end?'

Heimo thought for a moment. 'I'm not sure. One of the people on my list is a guy named Moser. He's a sort of fixer for Mehringer. We have nothing on Moser, but my source says he's Mafia connected. Rinaldi was described as a mid-level drugs conduit, and almost certainly a mob boy. But I don't actually know if there's any connection.'

'Hang on a minute. OK, we have a Konrad Moser on file, but not much information. Do you know what the Mafia link is?'

'I was told Collaviti.'

Victor whistled. 'Could be tasty or ugly, depending on your point of view. They have fingers in lots of pies, including drugs and arms. But we know nothing about a connection to Mehringer.'

'This is just a guess, but I have the impression Moser is a sleeper. I've seen the guy and you'd never know he wasn't Austrian. But if he's in the family, he'd have to be Sicilian, wouldn't he? I mean they never trust foreigners.'

'True. But if there is a Mafia connection to Mehringer, that's exactly the kind of thing we're looking for.'

'My source had one other piece of information, although it's not that helpful. There is supposed to be a moneyman involved somewhere. Not too surprising in an operation like this, but he was described as dangerous enough to be in the frame. Got anybody who fits the description?'

'Not specifically. Because of the money laundering, there are bound to be financial firms involved, but we're just beginning to dig into them.'

'OK, keep me advised about Rinaldi, if you would. I'm wondering if he and Falkner and Skolnik are all connected via some Mafia link, and there's a contractor out there blowing away the whole network. Sounds bizarre, but the body count is building up.'

'Bloody thing's like a spider's web. Talk to you when we get any more.'

Heimo thought for a moment about contacting Andrea but decided against it. She knew Rinaldi was dead because he was sure the text message had been from her. And no one understood the danger better than she did. Any contact from him might just make it worse. And he had nothing specific to tell her or even to ask her.

He went up to the office. Sigi was telling Alex about the interview with Fleissner. Alex said, 'Not much help there, then?'

Heimo said, 'No, except it established Skolnik knew Falkner. But we were already operating on that basis anyway. How's it going with the other contacts?'

'We've got two good ones, at least for stirring the pot. Hannes Gabelar and Manfred Polanc.'

Heimo grinned. 'One is tempted to say 'Aha!' Either of them sound like they can't wait to talk to us?'

'Actually, they didn't seem bothered. Polanc even volunteered to come over here. Anyway, I've got appointments with both. Have you talked to Gunther yet?'

'No, haven't had time.'

'Reckons he's done about all he can at Linz. He got the warrant and downloaded the stuff from the computer, but the people at the factory are denying everything.'

'OK, tell him to knock off and come home tomorrow.'

His handy buzzed and he recognized Victor's number. He hit the answer key and said, 'Hang on.' He went out to the hallway and wandered along its narrow length. 'Go.'

'Just got a line on the Falkner brother and sister. They're in the jug in Geneva.'

'Cute. What's the charge?'

'Apparently they were trying to skip out on their hotel bill, which I believe is a capital crime in Switzerland. Anyway, they've been in there for about three days. According to the custody officer, they keep calling their brother, so I assume they don't know about Gerhard. What do you want to do?'

'See if we can get the Swiss to release them to our custody. When Thomas gets back, he can pick up their tab and pay the fines. In the meantime, we might get something out of them. And I'll run all of this back through Walter to cover your involvement.'

'OK, let you know.'

He went back to the office. 'Sigi, I need you to work on something. Come with me please.'

Her eyebrows went up, but she followed him down the hall.

He walked down to one of the interview rooms, and closed the door. 'There's someone else working on the case from another direction. I'm not allowed to tell you anything about them, but they are helpful. Gunther is aware of them, but it's to go no farther, OK?'

She leaned back against the table and searched his face. 'Meaning Alex?'

He nodded.

'It doesn't seem right to cut him out. He's pulling his weight. Can you tell me why?'

'An exercise for the student. You think about it and tell me.'

Her eyes wandered off his face and unfocused into a faraway glaze.

Heimo waited, wishing he had a cigarette, even though smoking was prohibited in the interview rooms.

Sigi looked back at him. 'He's not going to make the grade, is he?'

'Why not?'

'Not always on top of things is he?'

'And?'

She grimaced. 'And you can't quite trust him to always get there.'

'Being the boss is often less fun than rock and roll. When I get canned, you and Gunther can fight it out to see who takes over.'

'I don't think I'd want to do that. Besides, you're not going anywhere.'

'Stranger things have happened. And when the time comes, you'll take a swing at it because you know you can cut it. Back to business. The twins have turned up - in jail in Geneva. We're trying to get them returned to our custody. We'll squeeze 'em and see if they know anything useful, although, based on what the Fleissner woman told us, I'm not sure they've even been here recently.'

'How long have they been in Switzerland?

'Don't know, but it's a rock we have to turn over.'

When they got back to the office, Heimo said, 'Alex, any luck with the car?'

'Yes and no. We've been through every car park we can find and come up empty. So I'm assuming the killer has hidden it in a private garage, or up in the woods somewhere a long way away. All the patrols are looking for it and keeping their ears open for any gossip. And we're still trying to find someone who might have seen a car go up the track, but no luck.'

'Sounds like you've gone as far as you can go. Let the uniforms handle it.'

### Chapter 19

He walked into Walter's office just as the big man shrugged into his jacket. He cocked an eyebrow at Heimo, and Heimo held up his hands. 'Sorry.'

'Try for the shortest briefing in history.'

Heimo grinned. 'Two things I tried to tell you earlier. Thomas Falkner will probably arrive tomorrow. We don't know how or when, but Gunther and I will pick him up. Second, Victor's found the twin brother and sister in jail in Geneva. He's trying to get the Swiss to release them to our custody. I need to run the formalities through you to cover Victor's operation.'

'What are they in for?'

'Skipping out on the hotel bill.'

Walter laughed. 'You can do twenty years for that in Switzerland. OK, call me if anything weird and wonderful transpires. Otherwise I'll see you Monday.'

Heimo went back to his now deserted office and called Cristina. He said, 'It's Heimo. I need to give you an update. Want me to come over now?'

She said, 'No, I do not. I have to get out of this cell before I go mad. Also, I'm starving. Let's grab something to eat and you can give me the news.'

'Sure. Where?'

She suggested a restaurant he had heard of but knew little about. 'Fifteen minutes,' she said, 'and I've got some items for you as well.'

He cleaned off his desk, intrigued for a moment until he remembered she was digging into the background of the Falkner family.

The bistro was small and almost free of people. He took a table in a corner and ordered wine. Cristina arrived just as the waiter swirled the bottle into the ice bucket.

She walked over and smiled, but her face sagged with fatigue. He stood up, and without thinking, stretched out both hands. And she, without missing a beat, grasped his, then sat down in the chair the waiter had pulled out.'

Heimo said, 'Rough day?'

She took a long slow pull at her glass and sighed. 'Not rough as in difficult. But too long and too buried in paper. When I sit that long everything gets sore and tired. Which is why this tastes wonderful, I suppose.'

She picked up a menu. 'Before we start, I have to eat, OK?'

The waiter materialized and took their orders. Cristina said, 'I've been here once before and the food was well above acceptable.'

'Be interesting to have a real meal. I seem to have been living off snacks and coffee for the past week.'

'How's it going?'

Heimo shrugged. 'It's not. We're turning up lots of information, but no murderers.' He gave her the short version of the team's efforts.'

She said, 'He sounds an odd man. A life in watertight compartments.'

'Someone else said that. I think he set things up that way because he was getting into seriously illegal stuff. We have indications of money laundering and arms trading, plus a potential drug connection. But no idea why anyone would want to shoot him. In fact, just the reverse. Everything seems to be running well, and he was completely below our radar.'

'I've been digging into his background, or as much as legal documents will allow. What I found is unusual, or at least something I've not come across.'

Heimo refilled her glass and she described her research. 'The Falkners were well off, if not wealthy, before the Second War. What happened during the war is not clear, but afterwards Gerhard and his father started to acquire land. Lots of it.'

She shook her head. 'The documents are a mess and incomplete, but what it looks like is they picked up farms and bombed out industrial sites all over Carinthia. But it doesn't appear they were buying them. There are owners listed before the war. Then a deed appears later and the Falkners are the owners. But nothing in between like a bill of sale or government re-registration.'

'Original owners killed during the war?'

'Possible, even likely, but there are anomalies. I checked what I was finding against similar records for Styria, and I found the provincial government there had taken charge of properties where there were no living claimants. The land was auctioned off, and there's a complete paper trail showing all the sales and transfers. Here, there is not. Or at least not in many of the cases where the Falkners are the new owners.'

His father's accusation flashed in his head. 'There's something you might check. See if you can find a farm or piece of land belonging to Erich Kapeller which later belonged to Falkner.'

She froze for a moment. 'What happened?'

'I'm not sure. I saw my father recently. He...he's not really with it any more. But he'd seen the news about Falkner and asked me if I was handling it. When I said yes, he called him a bastard. I asked why and he said Falkner had stolen everything we had. I tried to find out more, but he drifted off and I couldn't get anything else out of him.'

'Did you grow up on a farm?'

'No. Dad was a construction worker. We lived in houses and apartments all over the place. I've never heard anything about a farm. In fact, I know next to nothing about my family. My parents didn't talk about it, and I never asked. When I got older, I assumed something had happened in the war, and they didn't want to rake it up. Pretty common with the people I grew up with.'

Cristina twirled the wine in her glass. 'I'll see what I can find. While it's all interesting, I doesn't seem to get you any closer to your murderer.'

Heimo shrugged. 'Perhaps not. But the more I get into this case, the more I think it has to do with what kind of man Falkner was. It feels less and less like an impersonal contract killing, but who knows? At the moment, we're spinning our wheels. However, we found the rest of the family.' He told her about Thomas and the twins.

She said, 'Good. There should be something useful from them, although the twins sound like an odd lot.'

'I agree. One other thing occurs to me. Do we need to have their consent to see the will?'

She considered. 'Normally yes. But with a homicide, the rules give us a little more latitude. It will have to be approved by the court, but I think we can get an advance look. I'll call their lawyers Monday.'

Food came and was devoured. Plates and glasses and cutlery came and went. A second bottle of wine arrived. And Heimo realized he felt fresh and ready to go. But he worried about pushing the lawyer too hard.

'I know you've had a long day. Do you want to knock it off for tonight?'

She leaned back. Her eyes were cool and made no promises. 'I'm getting my second wind. Unless of course you wish to.'

'Not me.' He poured another glass. 'I don't want to sound like an idiot, but I'm not good at social dancing. Would you please tell me about yourself?'

She applauded softly. 'Bravo, straight in over the horns. Good interrogation technique. If the tape is running, I will give you a brief resume.'

### Chapter 20

Late Saturday afternoon, the duty desk called Heimo. Thomas Falkner was scheduled to arrive at the airport by helicopter at seven-thirty in the evening. Heimo called Gunther who said, 'Why don't you come over early enough to eat? Got plenty of food.'

He had not seen Gunther's family for several weeks. Over the past two years, they had gradually adopted him like a stray puppy. Having never been exposed to such lively chaos in his own austere upbringing, he nevertheless enjoyed it.

But for the remainder of the day, time dragged. He abandoned the apartment at mid-afternoon and went for a run. The overcast day was cool and windless, and it encouraged him to push too hard. After five kilometers, he had to slow down or ruin his legs. He stopped in a Burger King and grabbed a guilty sandwich, conscious Gunther's wife would try to stuff an enormous meal down his neck.

Gunther lived in a rambling house on the north edge of the city. Although old, the place had character, and most important for four children, twice the space of modern houses. Gunther's main pastime was working on it, and there were always bags of concrete and stacks of lumber lying around.

The clouds had cleared in the early evening, and the setting sun poured a warm patina of light over the city. As soon as Heimo pulled into the drive, four shapes hurtled out of the house. They materialized into three boys and one girl, all shouting at once, and engulfed Heimo. He swung young Manfred up on his shoulders while Luisa and Jurgen pulled on his legs.

Edward the eldest, was coming into his dignity and hung back from the children. Heimo extracted one hand and shook the boy's. 'Good afternoon, young sir.' Edward turned fiery red.

Heimo dragged the menagerie up to the front door. Gunther came out of the garage, brushing off sawdust. 'Hope you're hungry. She's made enough for twenty as usual.'

'I've been saving myself.'

Helga kissed Heimo on the cheek. 'I hope you came prepared. We've got strudel as well.'

'I'll try to do my duty, ma'am,' he said, having recently watched an American western movie on TV.

The meal was noisy and chaotic and vast, and he enjoyed it. Being part of a group as close and caring as the Schalks was something he'd missed as a child. His family had only been the four of them. Sometimes, in those three-o'clock-in-the-morning thoughts, he wondered if he wanted his own family. He'd never settled on a definitive answer.

Thirty minutes before Falkner's scheduled arrival, he excused himself and called the airport. The ETA had not changed. He went back in and nodded to Gunther, who had just changed into his working clothes. He told Helga he wouldn't be late, and she, having heard this a thousand times, rolled her eyes.

The airport was almost deserted as there were no other commercial flights due in for the rest of the evening. An officer from the Transport and Immigration Police was on duty. He was an old colleague of theirs, Otto Jernik.

'Good evening. They told me you were meeting the chopper. Is this guy big enough it takes two of you to handle him?' He snorted.

'No, this is actually an inspection to see if you know how to do your job.'

'It's complicated, so pay close attention. Who is it anyway?'

'It's the brother of the guy who got shot a few days ago. Name's Thomas Falkner.'

'Ah. Heard about that.'

'He's been in the Middle East. Supposed to be coming up from Rome.'

'Correct, so he's already been through EU Customs and Immigration. Do you want me to check him before you take over?'

'I don't think so. The Italians have been helping us with this one, so they should have given him a good look. Unless you know different.'

Jernik considered. 'If they used one of the special teams, should be OK. If it was the normal Customs people, it was useless. But I can tell from the passport stamp.'

'Your call. If it looks OK, we'll take him. Otherwise over to you.'

Jernik's radio squawked. He acknowledged. 'Chopper's a kilometer out. I've told the tower to put it down in front of the passenger terminal.'

They went out to the gate. The helicopter's lights showed bright against the blue backdrop of the mountains as it swung in from the south and followed the taxiway at a height of ten meters. It flew up to the terminal, rotated until the left side face the arrival door and settled to earth. The pilot cut the engines and the rotor blades began to slow.

After a few moments, the door opened and a man stepped out. He ducked and pulled out a large holdall. He had a brief word with the pilot, then walked across the tarmac still crouching until he was well clear of the blades.

Heimo and Gunther watched through the smudged windows. Thomas Falkner was a man of medium height with dark skin and thinning hair slicked straight back. His narrow face was divided by a prominent nose, and his mouth was a lipless slash. He appeared surprised to see an officer in the Immigration kiosk. Jernik said something and Falkner shrugged and pulled his passport out of his jacket. Jernik opened it, checked through the various stamps, then handed it back to Falkner without comment. Falkner shook his head and came through into the baggage claim area.

His face showed fatigue and the holdall seemed to drag at his side. At first, he didn't notice Heimo and Gunther. But when they stepped toward him, he stopped.

'Yes?'

The officers had their ID cards out. 'Mr. Falkner, I'm Chief Inspector Kapeller. This is my colleague, Kontrol Inspector Schalk. May we have a word?'

'What about? I'm tired, and I've been traveling all day. Can't it wait?'

'I'm afraid not. Let's go over to the claims office.'

Falkner was not keen on the idea, but with a further shake of his head, walked over to the small office usually inhabited by a young woman who looked for lost luggage. Gunther pulled out a chair for Falkner and stood by the door. Falkner dropped the holdall on the floor with a soft thud and sank into the chair.

'So what is it?'

Heimo had done this too many times, but it never got any better. He sat on the edge of the desk, while Gunther repositioned himself so he could watch without being obvious.

'I'm afraid I have bad news. Your brother Gerhard is dead. I am sorry.'

Falkner froze and his color drained away leaving him a pasty gray. He leaned forward, hands seizing the armrests. 'What...what are you talking about?'

'He was found shot to death several days ago.'

The man began to crumple as though he were a paper bag deflating. Tears started in his eyes. 'Are you sure? It must be a mistake.' His voice was soft and got lower and lower.

'I'm afraid there's no mistake, the identification was made from his fingerprints. I know this is a terrible shock, please accept our condolences. My colleague and I will take you home.'

Falkner was staring at the floor, rocking back and forth, a low hum emanating from his chest. He repeated his brother's name several times.

Heimo glanced at Gunther, who nodded. It was obvious Falkner had no prior knowledge of Gerhard's death. And, given his grief, it seemed unlikely he would have been involved in the murder.

Heimo said, 'Mr. Falkner, is there anyone else we should notify?'

After a moment, Falkner looked up. His face was tear-stained, but he did not seem aware of it. 'No, there is no one.'

Heimo let it stand, more curious than ever about the other brother and sister.

After a few moments, Falkner dragged himself to his feet and said, 'I want to go home.'

Heimo nodded and Gunther picked up the holdall. Falkner stumbled out of the office like a man who had aged twenty years. Heimo led the way to their car and opened the rear door while Gunther put the bag in the boot.

Falkner said nothing on the drive home. He seemed stunned.

Heimo decided not to ask any questions until the man regained a measure of control. When they emerged from the trees onto the circular drive in front of the Falkner house, sensors began to turn on security lights.

It took Falkner a moment to realize they had arrived. When he dragged himself out of the car, he stood looking across the grounds as though seeking someone or hoping for a welcoming light. Finally, he fumbled in a pocket and found keys. He opened the door and walked in, his holdall forgotten. Gunther brought it in and set it down in the hall.

Falkner walked down the entrance hall, then turned into the living room. He tottered straight to the bar, pulled out a bottle and uncorked it. Splashing a glass half full of golden liquid, Falkner stared at it a moment, then emptied it in one long, shuddering swallow. Then he filled the glass again, this time to the top.

Heimo said, 'I know this is not the best time, Mr. Falkner, but we need to ask you some questions.'

Falkner's head sank, then he lifted it as though it was made of cement. His eyes were red and swollen, but sharper. 'Yes, I suppose you must. But tell me what happened.'

He sat in one of the large armchairs and sucked at the glass. Heimo recounted the discovery of his brother's body, but glossed over the details of the autopsy, omitting the cocaine use.

Falkner heard it like a man listening for an echo that never came. Almost to himself, he said, 'What was he doing?'

Heimo said, 'That's one of our questions. Do you have any idea why he was in that area?'

Falkner, eyes still staring into the immeasurable distance, shook his head. 'No. It makes no sense. We used to own a farm up there years ago, but I think we sold it when I was a child. There's no reason.'

'When was the last time you saw or spoke to your brother?'

'I called him on Monday to tell him my flight details.'

'Do you have any idea what your brother's schedule was last week. Anyone he was meeting, any place he was going?'

Falkner drained his glass. His head sank down between his shoulders. 'No, he never told me what he was doing.'

Heimo considered him for a moment. He decided to close off the questions, but he was curious about whether the man was too grief-stricken to remember or was a good enough actor to stall.

'Did your brother have any recent contact with Matthias Skolnik?'

Falkner flinched, the barest tightening of his jaw. His answer was slow coming. 'Who's that? I don't know anyone named Skol...whatever.'

'I think perhaps we should leave this to another time. I must inform you we broke into your house a few days ago. Because we couldn't locate any next of kin, we thought it correct to do so and we had a warrant. You will find nothing has been disturbed except for a broken window at the back. The government will of course pay for a replacement.' He was holding the address book in reserve.

Falkner seemed disoriented, apathetic; he didn't even nod. Moreover, the alcohol was starting to work and his eyes were half shut.

When Heimo stopped at the end of the Falkner drive to look for traffic, Gunther said, 'He suspects what's going on.'

'I'd bet on it.'

### Chapter 21

Sunday was not Heimo's day. Too little to do, too much time to think and worry and doubt, and snowball all of it into a depressing wallow. Over the years, he'd tried to come up with projects to give himself a sense of accomplishment. Few of them ever worked for long.

He woke up muzzy-headed, and his mouth tasted like the Russian Army had marched through it in their socks. They'd gone back to Gunther's house, played with the kids for a while, then settled into the beer and schnapps. Talking the case to death and sorting out the world's problems had taken the rest of the evening. He hadn't felt drunk when he got home, but a head buzz told him he'd overdone it. And he'd gone through a pack of cigarettes as well.

He wandered into the kitchen and drank most of a liter of orange juice, then put the coffee on. Two cups later things looked better. He changed into his running gear and hit the streets, deserted this time of the morning.

But after three kilometers, his legs started cramping, so he slowed to a walk. It was as pretty a day as you could wish for, the sun warm and all the haze washed away by an overnight shower. By the time he got back to the apartment, he was optimistic about life in general and nothing in particular.

He wondered if Cristina might consent to lunch. He'd tried to examine his feelings about her, but discovered it was not easy. Too many conflicts and what-ifs. None of it was black or white. Her recitation of family history was interesting because he was interested in her, but it was like a thousand others and led his emotions nowhere.

He played with the idea of her as a permanent part of his life. Then he imagined being married with three kids, and the picture fell into absurd shards. Trying to imagine a life wholly different from the one he now lived was absurdly difficult. Would he like it or not? Maybe it was one of those things you couldn't understand unless you tried it.

Her background sounded conventional and accorded with what he thought a lawyer's path might be. But parts of her story niggled him. She said she'd been married briefly after leaving university, but it hadn't worked. He didn't pick at it, but it made him wonder what had really happened. And her family was a minor enigma. A married brother with children, parents dead, but nothing else. But it was more than he'd told her.

He cleaned up and thought "what the hell". He called her. She sounded sleepy when she answered, and he realized it was only ten o'clock.

'It's Heimo. Sorry, I didn't look at the time. I'll let you go back to bed.'

'No, 'sall right. I'll wake up in a minute. Is it something about the case?'

'No, I just wondered if you might like lunch.'

'Girl's gotta eat. Call me back in an hour.'

His mood climbed back above the horizon, but he was beginning to feel like a yo-yo. He wandered around the flat pulling books out and putting them back, then called her again, noticing it was precisely one hour since his first call.

'Where do want to go,' she asked. He named a small inn up in the hills. She was agreeable.

When he picked her up, she looked like an American advertisement for Miss Sophisticated. He felt a bit scruffy when he opened the car door for her.

Neither spoke much on the drive up to the inn, but it was a comfortable silence. The restaurant was old and built in the style made famous by hundreds of Tyrolean hotels up on the ski slopes. The waiter showed them to a terrace table with a terrific view over the mountains and valleys. Several other diners basked in the spring sun.

Heimo said, 'Wine?'

'Why not?'

He decided on a bottle of Riesling, and they both ordered substantial lunches. Heimo looked at her and she looked at him, and they both started to speak at once.

Heimo laughed. 'Ladies first, please.'

Cristina smiled. 'Thank you. I find myself confused, and it's not a feeling I enjoy. So I need to be a little direct, OK?'

He nodded, apprehensive that a brush-off was coming.

'I have the impression you are attracted to me. Am I wrong?'

The apprehension became a golf ball in his throat. 'You've discovered my secret.'

She smiled at his expression. 'Don't look so unhappy. I think I feel the same way.'

Heimo's breath whistled out. 'Ah. So what are you confused about?'

'I like to be sure of my ground. I don't want to go into anything without knowing the facts. Makes me sound like a lawyer, doesn't it? But I don't need emotional complications.'

The golf ball swelled up again. 'Now I'm confused.'

'Sorry, I'm not doing this very well. Let me just say it and we'll see what happens. I've been in a relationship for six months with a man I've known for some time. It has never been serious for either of us, and we will see much less of each other because he's going to be in Shanghai for eight months.' She stopped. 'Sounds like a statement by a witness on the stand, doesn't it? I want to be clear, but it's coming out clinical.'

Heimo leaned forward. 'I understand. Let me have a try. I've finished a relationship much like yours and for almost the same reasons. Maybe we're both in the same place. But for me there's one additional...aspect.' He took a breath and dove in. 'I'm sort of past wanting a casual relationship. That's not a proposal, but...' He was as red as the checks on the tablecloth.

She sipped her wine and regarded him for a moment. 'So we're both free, if that's the right word. Somehow it doesn't make it easier. I have to confess, I don't exactly know what I want.'

'Me neither.'

But Cristina looked pleased, her head cocked to one side, a small smile playing around her lips. 'Not very romantic is it? But neither of us is fifteen years old. For me, a little empathy is more important, and the hearts and flowers come later.'

The waiter appeared with two heaped plates, and they both concentrated on eating, grateful for the distraction. The occasional glances across the table were shy, but warm. By the time they finished, Heimo decided he might be in for some happiness.

When the plates were removed and the wine gone, Heimo suggested a walk on the forest paths meandering around the inn. After a few meters, her hand found his, and they swung along for some time in quiet companionship. He was enveloped in a warm fog. They came to a small viewpoint on the side of the hill. Heimo swung her around and she came into his arms, soft and sweet.

He had no idea how long it went on, but he pulled away eventually and looked down at her. She smiled up at him and said, 'I rather enjoyed that.'

He grinned. 'And me.'

He dropped her off at her flat after a second kiss in the car that equaled the first. He hummed and whistled all the way home. Maybe not so far from fifteen after all.

### Chapter 22

After morning briefing, the team settled into their second coffees. 'Tell us about Linz', Heimo said.

Gunther put his feet on a fire extinguisher. 'I reckon the manager and foreman are involved in something, but you'd have to go in mob-handed and peel everything back to find it. Tried to keep them focused on the murder, but they only half believed me.'

'But nothing on the murderer?'

Gunther shook his head. 'Same thing we've run into with everyone. until Falkner died, it was smooth sailing. No motive for them to bump off the boss.'

'OK, we'll let somebody else worry about the other stuff; not our bailiwick anyway. We're a week along, and still no idea of who or why, so we keep hammering the list of names. I'll talk to Walter about planting a few stories in the papers to see if we can goose somebody. Alex, find out the name of Falkner's bankers and get me an appointment. And, if we get the twins back, we'll have someone else to play with.'

They returned to the endless tasks of computer and phone. Walter was in his office, also on the phone. He waved Heimo in.

'I understand,' he said to the caller, 'but that's the way murder investigations go. If we knew who it was, we wouldn't have to investigate.' He rolled his eyes.

'Of course.' He set the receiver down with exaggerated care. 'Asshole.'

'Someone upset?' Heimo said.

'There have been two queries from people you've talked to wanting to know why they've been contacted by the police. The suggestion from the top appears to be you should not talk to anyone who might object to being questioned. So as soon as you find out who did it, don't talk to them. Idiots.'

'Going be more complaints. We've still got a few names to go through, and most of them have pull somewhere.'

'Don't worry about it. You're covering all the required procedures.'

'I'm considering planting a few news stories to see if we can get any reaction.'

Walter lit a cigarette. 'About what?'

'One is the coke. If we work out something with the Drugs squad, and suggest both publicly and through the grapevine, that there's going to be a major crackdown, we might get a few birds to fly who would otherwise stay quiet.'

'Sounds like a long shot. We're always busting someone. Why should they care this time?'

'We make it more specific as to the area. We highlight Velden, and we watch all the dealers. If one of them reacts, we pull him in and squeeze him.'

Walter watched smoke drift up into a shaft of sunlight. 'I'll think about it, but it's pretty weak. Even if you find the supplier, I doubt if you'll get much else. They don't normally shoot customers. What else?'

'The other idea is to talk to Victor and see if we can step up the heat on the Linz factory. Gunther thinks they're involved in something, and Victor has someone in there undercover. If we blew the lid off, it would start some talk, and we can rig it to watch people who might be in the frame.'

Walter nodded. 'Much more like, but I don't know if Victor's prepared to move yet. Better call him. Anything else?'

'Gunther and I picked up Thomas Falkner on Saturday. He hadn't heard about his brother, and he was seriously broken up. It looked genuine. I probed a little, and he got defensive. Gunther and I both have the impression he knows what's going on with the illegal stuff, but I don't think he has any idea who or why Gerhard was killed. I'm hoping he figures out that since his brother was knocked off, he could be in the gun sight as well. Might get him to talk to us. I'm going to see him this afternoon.'

'If he's at risk...well, we don't really need any more bodies, do we?'

'Do you want me to put people on him?'

'Not yet. Wait until you talk to him. What about this other brother and sister?'

'I need to talk to Victor - find out if he's sprung them, and if so, when they'll get here. In the meantime, I'm visiting the bankers. I want our accountants to look at the financial records, but I don't expect much. Falkner seems to have been very careful about any paper trail.'

'OK, talk to Victor and let me know what's happening, then we'll look at news releases.'

Heimo went out to his car and called his colleague. 'I've just talked with my guy who went to Linz. He didn't get anything to help us, but he thinks both the manager and the foreman are up to something.'

Victor agreed. 'I got an update this morning and my man says the same.'

'Are you ready to raid the place? It might flush out people who can give us a lead on the killings.'

'I understand, but it's a little early. We need another day or two at least.'

'OK. We picked up Thomas Falkner on Saturday. My impression is he knew nothing about his brother's death. I haven't pressed him too hard yet, but I'm going to have another go this afternoon. Any word on the twins?'

'Hang on a moment. Yeah, here it is. The Swiss Police agreed to release them to us. I'll check on transport. You want them in Klagenfurt?'

'I do. We'll meet them at the train or airport and take custody there.'

'See what I can do. Talk to you later.'

When he got back in the office, Alex said, 'I hope I've got the right people. The banking stuff is not too clear. An Alpiner Bank account seems to be the main one for the business. The personal stuff may go through the same account, or at least the same bank, but I can't tell from our data. The manager's name is Martin Paulus. He said he's available anytime today.'

'Good. Sigi and I will go see Thomas Falkner this afternoon and try to pry him open. Tell this Paulus we need the records, and that I'm on my way.'

On his way out, he stuck his head in Walter's door and told him about the conversation with Victor. Walter just nodded.

Heimo's phone buzzed while he was on the autobahn. He switched on his flashers and pulled onto the hard shoulder. It was Alex.

'Found Falkner's car.'

'Finally. Where is it?'

'In an old farm building about a kilometer from the crime scene. The owner went up there this morning, found the lock broken and the Rover inside. He called it in and the registration matched. Two of Halegger's people are on the way there.'

'Great. I hope to hell there's some useable forensic. I should be back by twelve.'

Sometimes you get a break that sews everything up. The car must have been left in the building by the killer. It made no sense for Falkner to have put it there. All they needed was a few prints or fibers or blood, and they'd be halfway home.

The Falkners banked in Villach about thirty kilometers from Klagenfurt. Since the headquarters of Falkner Industries was halfway between the two towns, Heimo supposed it made sense, but they had not found any other connection to Villach. Skolnik, however, had lived there.

The bank building was new and set in a park-like space outside the city. It appeared to be doing well, but then he'd never seen a poor bank. He parked in a visitor space and went in to Reception.

The young woman behind the desk took his card and placed a quiet call. After a moment, she said, 'Mr. Paulus will see you now Chief Inspector. His office is at the end of the corridor,' pointing to a short hallway on his left.

The door opened before he got there and a tall blond man stepped out, hand extended and formal smile in place. 'Chief Inspector, good morning. I'm Martin Paulus. Please come in.'

He held the door, and ushered Heimo into an office that screamed banker. Mahogany paneled walls, carpet ten centimeters deep, modern art on the walls, and a desk the size of an aircraft carrier. Paulus indicated a large leather armchair for Heimo and went around his desk.

The manager was dressed in dark gray Armani with a light blue shirt and Countess Mara tie. He sat down, shot his cuffs, folded his hands and leaned across the desk. The professional smile increased in wattage. Heimo felt like he should ask for a loan.

'How can I help you, Chief Inspector? Your man said it was in connection with the murder of poor Gerhard Falkner.'

Heimo nodded. 'That's correct. We understand the company accounts are here, so we are interested in the account information and history. I assume you knew Mr. Falkner well.'

Paulus leaned back, and steepled his fingers, his face settling into a judicious gravity. 'Yes, I think I may say I knew him quite well, although purely on a professional basis. We did not socialize to any degree.'

'I understand. Do you also manage the family's personal accounts?'

'Gerhard's, yes. I am not sure about the rest of the family, but I will check.'

'What can you tell me about him?'

Paulus nodded as though approving of Heimo's question. 'What type of information are you interested in? I'm afraid I've never been involved in a police matter before. Of course I have an obligation to protect the financial confidentiality of our clients.'

Heimo looked at him for a moment. 'Mr. Paulus, this is a murder investigation. Your client is dead. There is nothing to protect.'

Paulus colored, and generated a small cough. 'Well...of course, of course. I understand. However, the business...the business goes on, I assume. And my obligation to the company still applies.'

Heimo was curious. Paulus seemed defensive, although it could have been the usual reluctance to deal with the police. Or maybe the bank accounts were going to reveal illegal or suspect transactions. 'I am afraid our investigative requirements supersede your professional confidentiality. But to make it easy, let's start with Mr. Falkner as an individual.'

Paulus nodded, two fingers on one hand pinching a cufflink on the other sleeve, twirling it in circles. 'Yes of course, that would be quite in order. Well, Gerhard was a fine man and I believe an excellent businessman. I think he was what is called a pillar of the community.'

Heimo kept a blank face. 'No vices then?'

Paulus stared. 'Vices?'

'Women, alcohol, gambling, drugs - vices.'

'Certainly not. At least not to my knowledge. I believe he was a moral man and a good Christian.'

On the list for sainthood, no doubt. 'How often did you see him?'

'Oh, not often, perhaps once every month or six weeks. We communicated on the phone or via email somewhat more frequently.'

'What about?'

'Just things to do with the account. For example, he always advised me if there were to be any exceptionally large transactions.'

'How large would be exceptionally large?'

Paulus coughed behind a discreet hand. 'I can't say offhand. When he called, I would access the account and make a note. But the amounts varied.

'Any social meetings?'

'Just business meetings in a social setting.'

'When was the last time you talked to him?'

'Well, I'm not quite sure. Let me check.' He turned to his computer terminal and punched a few keys. When his face was at an angle, Heimo could see a light sheen of perspiration on the man's forehead. 'Three weeks ago today. In the afternoon.'

'And what did you discuss then?'

'It was about an extension to one of the plants. He said he was considering expanding and wanted to know if financing would be a problem. I told him I would need more details, but it should not be difficult.'

'Is there anything else you can tell me about him or his company? Like why someone would want to kill him.'

Paulus' eyes went wide. 'Good God, no. Nothing...I don't know why anyone would do that.'

Heimo looked at the Mondrian copy behind Paulus's desk. The banker apparently expected him to believe that, even though a major customer had just been murdered, he had not taken the trouble to inspect the accounts. But he decided he was unlikely to get much more out of the man without leverage. 'We'll need printouts of the account histories, both company and personal, for the last five years. Can they be ready by this afternoon?'

Paulus twirled his pen this time. 'I must consult with head office about this. I believe there are certain legal requirements to satisfy before I can release the information.'

'Very well. But we need to move on this Mr. Paulus, so tell me what you need a soon as possible. If it's a warrant, we'll get one.'

'Of course, of course. I just think I need to go through the proper channels for something like this.'

Heimo stood up. 'I'll expect a call from you this afternoon.' He turned to go and Paulus rushed around the desk to open the door.

'I'm sorry I couldn't be more help.'

Heimo gave him a thin smile. 'So am I.'

### Chapter 23

Erich's doctor had an office in one of the myriad wings of the main hospital which seemed to grow new tentacles every year. Despite his familiarity with most of the clinics, Heimo still had to ask the way twice.

When he knocked on the door, a nurse opened it. Heimo gave her his name, and she looked over her shoulder. The doctor nodded and stood up. 'Come in.'

Waldemar was a geriatric specialist, a tall thin man wearing circular black spectacles and a pencil mustache that made him look like James Joyce. He had seen Erich several times in the past few months, but it always seemed more tests were required. He gestured for Heimo to take a seat on a stool next to his desk. 'How are you?'

'Not too bad doctor, all things considered. Too busy.'

'Ah yes, in your profession as in mine, I imagine 'not busy' is good.' He chuckled.

'So what have you discovered?'

Waldemar leaned back, crossed his legs and wrapped both hands around his knee. 'I ordered the last tests done to confirm what I already suspected, and to pinpoint some physiological issues.' He stopped for a moment and looked at Heimo over his glasses. 'Are you familiar with Huntington's chorea or disease?'

Heimo shook his head. 'I'm not well up on things medical other than first aid. I thought about doing a little research on the internet about Dad's symptoms, but no time.'

Waldemar nodded. 'Just as well. His obvious symptoms could relate to many conditions. Huntington's disease is a genetic disorder. It affects the muscle coordination and causes some cognitive impairment.'

'What's cognitive impairment, medically speaking?'

'Well, broadly it means the ability function mentally. It's not a precise term because the effects vary from individual to individual.'

Heimo was seeing connections. 'Erich seems to fade in and out when I'm talking to him. Is that impairment?'

'It is. It's the onset of dementia, which may be a term more familiar to you. What happens is the genetic defect causes the body to begin to damage brain cells. This can manifest itself in different ways such as muscular problems like repetitive movements or writhing of the hands. In addition, he will probably have difficulties with things like problem solving and communicating. It's not possible to say exactly what will occur or how fast it will happen. Erich is rather older than most people we diagnose with this disorder, so we are less certain about timing.'

'OK, so what's the treatment? I assume if it's like dementia, he'll need more care. Does he need to go into a home, or what?'

'I must first tell you, Heimo, there is no cure for this illness. Most of the care we can provide is only palliative to minimize the effects of the symptoms. But we cannot slow it down or stop it.'

'Jesus.' Heimo thought for a moment, evaluating ways and means, solving the problem. 'Is this thing going to...kill him?'

'Eventually, yes.'

'How long has he got?'

Waldemar steepled his fingers. 'It's hard to say. For most people who begin to show symptoms in their thirties or forties, the remaining span is about twenty to twenty-five years. Because Erich is older, it's likely to be less. But it could be anywhere from five to perhaps ten years. There is no way to judge accurately.'

Heimo nodded. 'Not wonderful but better than nothing. What should I look for?'

Waldemar dropped into teaching mode. He pulled out a sheaf of documents and took Heimo through possible symptoms, how they would be treated, and what the progression of the disease might look like.

He said, 'Keep those. They might help you tell if something you see is related to this condition, or there is another problem.'

'Thanks. Anything else?'

Waldemar was silent for a moment. 'Yes there is. Huntington's disease is hereditary. Each child of an affected person has a fifty per cent chance of having the defective gene.' He waited.

There was a long breathless moment before it hit. It was like a solid punch to the gut, and his lungs burned as they emptied themselves. Tiny black bugs danced in his vision for a few moments, then crawled to the edges. He sucked in air, feeling sweat pop on his forehead. 'You mean I've got it? And my brother?'

Waldemar shook his head. 'No! It means there is a 50-50 chance you have it. And the same for your brother. The only way to be certain is to be tested. The risk is much higher if both parents have the defect, but I looked at your mother's medical records and found no indication she was affected, although I cannot be one hundred percent certain.'

Heimo got up and walked about the room, hands jammed in his pockets, trying to release neck muscles that had grown rigid. The nurse turned to watch him. 'If I've got it, should I be showing symptoms?'

'Not necessarily. Symptoms can start from young to quite old. It depends on the individual. We've talked about many of the most common. Have you seen any of them in yourself?'

'That's what I'm trying to think about. I don't remember anything like muscle problems. The cognitive stuff, who the hell knows? Sometimes I feel like all of those things, irritable, vague, what-not.'

Waldemar said, 'Of course, and that's normal. To know, you must have the test. But some people decide they would rather not know. They believe the anticipation of dementia would blight their lives. It's a very personal decision.'

'How do we get tested?'

'Because the disease involves a gene problem, it means doing a DNA test. As far as you are concerned, the testing is a matter of taking blood or even a swab. As I said, many people at risk choose not to be tested. There is a counseling service available in Graz for this condition, and I recommend you talk to them before you make a decision. Knowing or not knowing can have a major impact on your life. Does your brother have children?'

'Two daughters.'

'And you have none?'

'No.'

'I know this has been a shock, but keep in mind, even in the worst case, someone your age has many years left. And, to be brutal about it, we are all going to die of something. I say this because I want you to understand it's not like having a death sentence, at least other than the one we all have. It is a matter of knowing a little more about what will happen.'

'I see that. But it will have to sink in for a while before I figure it out. Is there anything I need to do about Dad at the moment?'

'No, the regime he is on now is adequate. I will give him a checkup once every three months or so unless he develops a specific illness, but nothing drastic should happen. I'll inform the district nurse, and she will also keep an eye on him.'

'Thanks, if that's the word. I'll call you when I get my hands around this.'

Waldemar was staring at Heimo. After a minute, he nodded. 'You'll do.'

Heimo was within meters of the LKA building when he realized he had no memory of getting there. He was on autopilot. Work was out of the question because at the moment he couldn't care less who killed Gerhard Falkner.

He drove south of town to a promontory overlooking the mountains, still capped with snow at this time of year. There didn't figure to be any tourists around yet. He parked the car, got out and slung his jacket in the back. The day was warm and windless with a few high wisps of cloud. He smiled. The kind of day they used to say, "made you glad to be alive". He lit up and drew the smoke in as deep as it would go.

No matter what Waldemar said, it did feel like a death sentence. Odd, but he'd never thought much about death. When his mother passed away, he seemed to have a permanent pain under his heart, but he didn't dwell on death as an idea, or contemplate his own mortality.

He rubbed the big scar on his left side, remembering that the pain had not started for several minutes after the knife opened him up. But even then, he knew he wasn't going to die. People did die all the time, and it was his job to investigate the suspicious ones, but their deaths did not cause him to think about his own. Now, for the first time, he faced the emotional realization that he could die. And would.

He didn't think he could feel any worse. But he conjured a picture of Hugo's two little girls, and more grief welled up. Then, fighting his own misery, he realized he'd forgotten his father.

He pulled out his cigarettes and noticed he'd smoked two without being aware of it. Putting them back, he started walking, harking back to an old axiom. The body sometimes knew more than the head. He marched toward a path at the edge of the parking area and climbed the gentle gradient to the hill behind. He tried to empty his head of death and concentrate on the awakening life in the forest.

And for a while, it worked. He climbed five hundred meters until the path broke out onto a small alpine meadow right out of "Heidi". It was bright green with new ankle-high grass and featured a battered wooden hut at its highest point. He strolled to a rough shepherd's seat made from two stumps and a board, sat down and faced into the sun.

He lit up again, trying to be analytical and rational. Even if he found out tomorrow he had the disease, he'd still have a lot of years left. And most of them would be normal. And, what the hell - they were making new medical discoveries every week. In ten or fifteen years, who knew what they'd come up with. And no children, thank God, so he didn't have to worry about passing it on.

But another uncomfortable thought wedged into his analysis. He'd never thought much about having a family, but what if he found out he couldn't even if he wanted to? That put a different spin on it. And, as unbidden as a shadow, Cristina crept into his head. He sucked in air again. Where had that come from?

Shaking his head, irritated by the self-absorption, he tried to think about the case. Did any of it matter anymore? Someone would find Falkner's killer sooner or later, and the world would continue to spin. It had been a long time since he'd thought about what he did, whether it was important or even necessary. Waldemar's bomb had pushed the futility of existence in his face, and he couldn't dodge around it this time.

He stretched his neck and pushed his arms out straight and flexed his knees and breathed deep...and after a while things settled down. What should he say to Hugo, or should he say anything to Hugo? But his brother was a man, not a little boy. He had a right to know, to make his own decisions.

How long Heimo sat, he had no idea, but he reached a balance point where his head and emotions seemed to be under control. So he ambled back down the hill to his car. As he drove into the city, the investigation into the death of Gerhard Falkner receded to minor importance in the scheme of his life.

### Chapter 24

Heimo stopped at a gasthaus and dawdled over coffee. He was not the type to sink into depressing thoughts about his own insignificance in the universe. Whatever life he had, he would live it as best he could. But he felt his priorities shift as certainly as if the ground had moved beneath his feet.

Martin Paulus's less than subtle attempt to avoid providing any information aroused Heimo's suspicions. If Paulus knew there were illegal transactions running through the Falkner accounts, he couldn't hope to hide it for long. A court order would override any such attempt. The banker had to know this, so why was he stonewalling? Trying to buy time? For what?

He called Sigi on the way back to the office. 'Grab your notebook and we'll go talk to Thomas.'

As he drove to the lake, he said, 'Falkner has to be involved in whatever's going on in the company. My other source says he's been in the Middle East dealing with a known illegal arms trader. We'll hold that in reserve and use it only if we can't get to him any other way. For now, we keep the questions aimed at his brother's murder.'

Sigi said, 'Did he have any idea what happened?'

'He said no, and I'm convinced it was a complete shock to him. I didn't press too hard, much as I wanted to. But today is different. If he's involved in suspect operations, I expect him to close up or ask for his lawyer. But the real point is to make sure he understands the link between Gerhard and Skolnik, and that he is therefore a potential target. Then we'll keep an eye on him and see what happens.'

'What if he answers the questions?'

Heimo grinned. 'Arrest him.'

The barrier to the Falkner car park was up. There was one car parked in the Director's slot. The young receptionist stood up and smiled when they walked in.

'Good morning Chief Inspector. How may I help you?'

'Good morning, Trude. We would like to talk to Mr. Falkner, please.'

She slipped on her headset. 'I will see if he is available.' She murmured into her mike. 'Mr. Klostermann will be out in just a moment.'

When Klostermann strode into reception, he was more confident and assertive. 'Good morning, Chief Inspector. I understand you wish to see Mr. Falkner. I am afraid it is completely out of the question today. He is, as you will appreciate, trying to cope with both his brother's death and with checking on the company operations. But I will be happy to arrange an appointment for another time.'

Heimo nodded. 'I understand, Mr. Klostermann. In that case, it might be better if we had our discussion at the LKA.'

Klostermann goggled. 'I don't understand.'

'I think you do. Tell Mr. Falkner if he can't talk to us here, we will take him down to our office. Once again, this murder investigation is the priority. Mr. Falkner may have information we need. There is no option to decide he's too busy.' His tone was as flat as his stare, and he had moved close enough to Klostermann to breathe on him.

Klostermann broke into a light sweat. 'I...I understand. I will inform Mr. Falkner.' He scurried down the corridor. Heimo turned to smile at the receptionist whose eyes were huge and round.

A moment later, Trude said, 'Mr. Falkner will see you now. He's in his office.'

Heimo said, 'Thank you, we know the way.'

Falkner stood behind his desk when Klostermann opened the door to usher the officers in. He was dressed in an expensive-looking Italian suit, and there was no trace of grief on his face. He held his arms stiff at his sides, hands hooked.

Klostermann hesitated. Falkner said, 'Thank you Anton, that will be all.'

Klostermann closed the door while Heimo walked up to Falkner and held his hand out. 'Good Morning, Mr. Falkner.'

Falkner touched the hand as though it was contaminated, then sat down. 'I am very busy this morning, Chief Inspector. What do you need?'

'Information, Mr. Falkner.'

Falkner's eyes narrowed for a moment. He leaned back and gestured at the two chairs in front of his desk. Heimo and Sigi sat, and Sigi took her notebook out.

'What is it you want to know?'

'Who killed your brother, obviously. To find this person, we need some idea about why your brother was killed - the motive in other words. I realize this is painful for you, but there is no other way we can go about it.'

'Don't you think if I knew, I'd tell you?'

'I'm sure you would. But often people know more than they think they do. Let me give you an idea of what we've discovered so far. Your brother seemed to have no social life, or any life at all, outside the business. At least according to the people we've spoken with. Is that correct?'

Falkner clasped his hands on the desk and stared at a point over Heimo's head. 'I wouldn't say he had no social life, but it's true he spent the majority of his time on the business.'

'What did his social life consist of? Where did he go, whom did he see, who were his friends?'

'He liked to go to good restaurants. He would sometimes hike in the mountains. In the winter, he usually went to Kaprun to ski for a week. As for people, well, sometimes we went together, sometimes he was with a client or someone from the firm. It varied. But you are essentially correct - he had no close friends.'

Heimo stared at Thomas for a minute. 'No close friends, but close enough for someone to want to kill him. You can see our dilemma, Mr. Falkner.'

Falkner would not meet Heimo's eyes, but he shrugged as though the matter was beyond him.

'You haven't asked for any details about your brother's death. Is there anything you wish to know?'

Falkner turned away for a moment and rubbed a hand across his mouth. 'He was shot and his body was found in the mountains. What else is there?'

'Not a great deal. But most relatives of murder victims have many questions. We asked if you knew a man named Skolnik. You've had some time to think about it; does the name mean anything?'

'I have a faint recollection of hearing the name, but I remember no details. What has he got to do with this?'

'He was murdered about four weeks ago - shot the same way as your brother. It's unusual for two virtually identical killings to happen close together, so we think they're connected.'

Falkner paled. 'Connected how?'

'We're not sure. It's one of the reasons we're trying to discover if there was any relationship between the two men. If there was a connection, and both have been murdered, well, the implication is obvious.'

Falkner stared at the spot over Heimo's head. He opened his mouth, then closed it again. 'Do you think someone is...?'

'Is what, Mr. Falkner?'

'I don't know.' His face firmed and he looked directly at Heimo. 'And I don't know this man Skolnik. Any other questions?'

'Do you know a Ms. Elizabeth Fleissner?'

'Yes.'

'In what connection?'

'She went to school with Gerhard. Or at least he knew her about that time. But it was years ago. What has she got to do with anything?'

'Perhaps nothing. We came across her name in some documents. My last question is about the business. As far as you can tell, are there any problems, or things not as they should be?'

'I can't tell yet. It seems OK, but what would be wrong? Gerhard was good at organization, and we have excellent managers at all levels, so I don't expect to find anything untoward. Again, why do you ask? What has the business got to do with my brother's death?'

'It is not unknown for business rivals or competitors to take strong measures when they feel threatened or cheated. Or, for example, if something unethical or illegal was going on. By the way, why were you in Beirut?'

Falkner turned away and developed a sudden coughing fit. He pulled out a bright green handkerchief and dabbed at his eyes and nose. After a few moments, he turned back and some of his color returned in blotches. 'Excuse me, an allergy. Why do you think I was in Beirut?'

'When we identified your brother, we needed to notify the next of kin. No one seemed to know where you were or when you would return. And because your brother had been murdered, we were concerned for your safety. So we searched, and of course discovered you had taken a flight to Beirut from Rome. What were you doing there?'

'Just getting to know a few prospective customers for our electronics equipment. Not people we have done business with before, so we needed a face to face meeting.'

Heimo eyed him for a time. Then he stood up. 'Thank you Mr. Falkner. Sorry to take so much of your time. We'll see ourselves out.' Falkner made it halfway out of his chair before the officers were through the door.

On the way back to the office, Sigi said, 'Old Gerhard didn't want anybody to know anything about anything, did he?'

'Sounds like it. Hard to tell how much Thomas knows. I think he's neck-deep in the arms thing, but as for the rest...?'

Sigi chuckled. 'He got the point about being in the frame, though. I wonder what he'll do about it. Be nice if we could put a phone tap on him.'

'Wouldn't it just, but we haven't got anything I can go to the Prosecutor with to justify it. We'll put Surveillance on him and see where he goes.'

'How come you didn't mention the twins?'

'Saving them for later. Their appearance might cause him to give a little more away. And I'm curious why he hasn't mentioned them.'

'Well, I hope someone starts to give something away. We aren't getting anywhere fast.'

Heimo could only nod.

They stopped at a small gasthaus. Sigi went over the information they'd extracted from the Falkner's computers. 'It all seems normal. The Economic boys could look at it and maybe find discrepancies, but I don't think there's anything pointing to murder. Likewise for the other stuff.'

'He was careful to keep everything neat and clean where it might be audited. And there's still nothing on the business side that looks like a motive. Dirty yes, but profitably dirty.' His handy buzzed. It was Victor.

'Kapeller.'

'It's me. Got someone with you?'

'Yes.'

'No problem. Just wanted to let you know, the brother and sister will arrive this evening at 1930 at the airport. It's the Swissair flight from Zurich. The escorting officer has paperwork for you, then you own 'em.'

'Got it, and thanks. Talk to you later.'

He told Sigi. 'This should be interesting. I have the impression these two are the black sheep. There doesn't seem to be any normal contact between them and the brothers. And the fact they've been in the jug suggests they didn't fit in with Gerhard's tight little life.'

They headed back to the office. No one was there but Alex. 'Gunther is out doing something or other. By the way, someone from Interpol in Toulouse called. Was there a notice out on Falkner?'

'There was. I better call them and rescind it.'

'I took care of it. Told them he showed up, so they'll remove it.'

'The bank records here yet?'

Alex shook his head.

Heimo called the bank and the receptionist told him Paulus was out for the rest of the afternoon. He asked to speak to the assistant manager.

'I requested all the records for certain accounts. Do you know what the status is?'

'I'm afraid not Chief Inspector. I have a note that Mr. Paulus is dealing with your enquiry, but I don't know what he has done so far. It shouldn't take long.'

'Will Paulus be back in the morning?'

'Oh yes sir. I'll remind him as soon as he comes in.'

'Thank you. And tell him it's urgent.' He terminated the call, then remembered he should have asked if a warrant was required. Time enough in the morning.

His intercom buzzed. It was Walter. 'Come down and chew the rag with me, young man.'

Heimo tapped once and walked in. Blue haze drifted around the room on gentle air currents. Walter blew a perfect smoke ring and watched it float towards the window. 'I noticed you haven't arrested the murderer yet, and I wondered if there was a problem.'

'I'm waiting for him to get his dental work finished so the state doesn't have to do it.' Heimo shrugged. 'We're still pushing all the buttons, but no suspects yet. Victor's not ready to move on Linz, so no help there. Thomas Falkner didn't kill his brother, and I don't think he knows who did. He says he doesn't know Skolnik, and I have no evidence to the contrary. The dirty end of the business was profitable, so there's no motive there. In short, nada, zip, null, nothing.'

'Enjoyable when things just sail along, isn't it? So what's your next step? Presuming there is one.'

'I've asked for the bank records. The accountants may turn up something, but it will probably be money laundering rather than murder. I want to put Surveillance on Thomas Falkner for a while. We've suggested he might be a target, so I need to find out what he does and who he sees. It would be nice to tap some phones, but I don't think I can get there.'

'Not with what you've got.'

'The twins are coming in this evening from Zurich with a Swiss escort. He'll turn them over to us, but we can't hold them for long. We'll question them, then turn 'em loose. On the face of it, they can't have had anything to do with either murder. Thomas, by the way, does not know they're coming. There seems to be an estrangement there, so maybe some sparks will fly.'

Walter pondered for a while. 'Your idea of kicking up the dust has had an effect. Polanc complained to someone who talked to someone and so forth. Anyway, Augustin called and gave me the usual crap about not annoying solid citizens. But it doesn't help with your investigation.'

Heimo shrugged. 'We're close to being stymied. We'll keep looking of course, but I'm not hopeful unless Forensics turns up something from the car.'

Walter said, 'You'll have to wait a few days for any Surveillance help. They're maxed out and two of the team are assigned to Salzburg for the next month. I'll put someone on it when I can.'

'We'll do it ourselves. The way things are going, I'm running out of productive work anyway.'

Walter put his feet down. 'Give me a call if anything comes up.'

Heimo wandered down to the office. Just as he got to the door, an officer named Tedo Panniak stepped into the corridor and called to him. 'Heimo, got something for you.'

Panniak worked on the Drugs squad. When Heimo got to his office, Panniak said, 'Reckon we got the guy who supplied Falkner's coke.'

'Great. Who is he?'

'Name's Vito Fitello. He's a new one. He got caught in a sting we're running in Villach. Had half a key on him when he was arrested, and that's about ten years' worth, so he made noises like he might be willing to do a deal. The team squeezed him a little and he coughed up a few customers, one of which sounds like Falkner. No name of course, but the description sounds good and he did the deal in Velden. Based on what else he told us, the connection looks good. You want to talk to him?'

Heimo thought for moment. 'I'll have Gunther do it. He has some names that might tie in. Where are you holding the guy?'

Panniak gave him the location and the name of the officer conducting the interrogation. Heimo went back to the office and called Gunther. 'Anything this guy has would be a step in the right direction, particularly if you can pin him down about dates. Call me when you're finished.'

He called Sigi and gave her the information about the flight from Zurich. And he called Cristina and said he was going to be busy during the evening.

She said, 'Of course. I assume there's another woman involved.'

'Already you know me too well. We're getting a shipment - the Falkner twins. They seem to be quite low on the fun scale, so I can't say I'm looking forward to it.'

'Perhaps they'll be full of good information.'

'One can only hope. I'll call you tomorrow.'

'I've got some things for you as well. But I'm in meetings all morning, so make it lunch or after.'

Somehow "lunch" sounded more inviting than usual.

### Chapter 25

Heimo and Sigi stopped at the police station across from the airport to tell them about the incoming passengers. The duty inspector, an officer named Manner, was curious about the Falkner case, but Heimo shook his head and shrugged. Things were too complicated, there were too many loose ends, and they had little to show for their effort. He conveyed this with a few words and the inspector understood.

They walked across to the terminal building and Sigi followed in a Police van. Heimo had no idea if the twins had luggage, but he wanted them to understand things were serious. The officers on Immigration duty were already in their kiosk as the flight landed. Manner told them what was happening, then went out on the ramp.

Travelers from Zurich were mostly business people. The older ones wore long overcoats and carried shabby leather briefcases they had owned forever. The younger ones had their own uniform of jackets, jeans and rucksacks, and many had tiny earphones dangling around their necks. When all the regular passengers had deplaned, three figures appeared at the top of the stairs by the rear entrance. The inspector went over to meet them and pointed to the Immigration area. Heimo stepped out and got his first look at the semi-mythical Falkner twins.

The brother stumbled down the stairs with the sister dragging along behind him. Their rumpled clothes that looked like they'd been slept in. Joseph Falkner, medium height with unruly hair, showed some bulk under a shabby jacket. He had three days stubble and his eyes were red-rimmed and watery. His sister Elinor tended to plumpness and her face, perhaps pretty in youth, was puffed and blotchy. She was wrapped in a long theatrical coat of silver slashed on the sleeves with crimson. Heimo had seen countless homeless people who dressed the same way. A man in a gray overcoat followed close behind.

Heimo, holding his identification up, stepped in front of the trio when they got to the terminal door. He kept his voice low. 'Inspector Durstein? Chief Inspector Kapeller. This way, please.' He led them over to the Austrian Airlines counter and away from the baggage carousels, which had just started to rotate. 'Do they have any luggage?'

The brother's mouth opened, but his sister cut in first. 'No, we do not. Those pricks in Geneva wouldn't even let us go back to the hotel before they stuffed us on that cattle truck.' Her voice wheezed, but the venom was heartfelt.

Heimo said, 'Wait here.' He glanced at Sigi and she nodded.

Heimo and the Swiss officer went over to the security desk behind Immigration. 'They give you any trouble?'

Durstein made a face. 'Other than having to listen to that cow bad-mouth Switzerland for an hour, no. I'll be glad to turn them over to you.' He pulled a sheaf of documents out of his coat pocket, Heimo signed four forms, and one of the Immigration officers stamped two of them.

Durstein said, 'All yours, and please keep them here. If they come back to Switzerland, they'll be re-arrested and jailed.'

Heimo shook his hand. 'Understood and thanks.'

When he returned, both Falkners were sitting in plastic chairs and appeared to have gone to sleep.

Sigi, thumbs hooked in her belt, wrinkled her nose. 'We should have brought the paddy wagon. They smell like a couple of winos.'

Heimo shook the man by the shoulder and he looked up. His eyes were bleary and his face seemed smeared like someone had rubbed a wet sponge across a watercolor. 'Huh?'

Heimo pulled him to his feet. 'Let's go.'

Sigi reached out to grasp the woman's arm, but she jerked it away, muttering, 'Hands off, bitch.' She hoisted herself up and followed her brother out through the baggage handlers entrance.

Heimo opened the van's rear door and helped the man in, then waited as the woman made three attempts to climb in next to him. He reached across to fasten her seat belt, and she slapped his arm.

It was too much. Heimo grabbed her by the front of her coat and pulled her into his face. 'Listen you stupid tart, you give me any more trouble and you're going to have a very unpleasant week.' She stared. He shook her. 'Got it?' She grunted, eyes as unblinking as a snake's.

Heimo fastened her belt while Sigi saw to the other one. They got in the front and drove back to the LKA building and through the custody gates. The duty officer, expecting them, said, 'Interview room three.'

They frog-marched the Falkners down the corridor and into a large, stark room furnished with a table and four chairs, all bolted to the floor. The lighting was fluorescent and made the twins look even worse. Heimo and Sigi steered them to two chairs and pushed them down. The man more or less collapsed into his, and the woman perched on the edge of hers and leaned on the table with both elbows.

The duty officer stuck his head in. 'Coffee or anything?'

Heimo looked at the Falkners who did not respond. He said, 'Do either of you want coffee or water?'

The woman croaked, 'Water.'

Heimo and Sigi sat down and stared at the bedraggled figures. Their resemblance to each other was remarkable, but neither looked at all like Thomas. They had dirty blonde hair, much disheveled, eyes that had once been blue, and grayish skin.

The duty officer returned with a tray and placed it on the table between Sigi and Heimo. The woman grabbed one of the water bottles and wrenched at the cap until she got it off. She tilted her head back and drained it. The man lolled in his seat, oblivious.

Heimo said, 'Do either of you know why we brought you back to Austria?'

Neither answered, although they seemed to have heard the question. 'Your brother, Gerhard Falkner, was murdered a week ago.'

Elinor stared at him for a full minute, then her lower face worked into a slow smile which never reached her eyes. Josef Falkner pulled himself more or less upright, slapped the table and slurred, 'Be damned. I'll...be damned.'

'You don't seem upset about his death.'

They did not contradict him.

'Didn't like your brother?'

Elinor shook her head.

Joseph muttered, 'Bastard. Dirty bastard.'

Elinor said, 'Where's Bongo? He dead too?'

'Who's Bongo?'

'Bongo. Thomas - the other bastard. He dead?'

'No. Did you expect him to be?'

'Would have been nice.'

Heimo looked at Joseph. The man was trying to concentrate and not having much luck. His fingers plucked at his clothes, and the left eye tended to wander on its own.

'So you don't like your brothers. Why not?'

Elinor snorted like a horse. Joseph said, 'What about...money?'

Elinor straightened up and leaned forward. 'The money. Bongo got it?'

Heimo glanced at Sigi who was sitting as far from the pair as she could manage. She said, 'Neither of you is making any sense. We need answers. What money are you talking about and why do you think your brother has it?'

Elinor bleated like a sheep. 'Our money, family money you idiot. It's ours and we want it.'

Joseph hit the table again. 'Now. Give it to us now.'

Sigi said, 'I think you're both off your heads. How long were you in Geneva?'

Brother and sister slumped back in their chairs, sulking and unresponsive. Heimo shook his head. 'Useless. Put 'em in the cells overnight, and we'll have another try in the morning.'

'Thank god. The smell is starting to gag me.'

Heimo called the duty officer who called the custody officer, and between them, they got the Falkners into two cells, although not without a considerable amount of limp resistance.

Before they left for the night, Sigi said, 'You going to tell Thomas they're back.'

'Nope. It's the one thing I'm looking forward to doing tomorrow. G'night Sigi.'

He decided there was no point in calling anyone about the twins because they'd learned nothing of value. Moreover, he wanted away from Falkners and their ilk for one night. And he wanted a quiet meal.

He drove to his apartment and parked the car, then walked two hundred meters to a small Italian restaurant he'd frequented over the past year. When Zeno the owner came over, Heimo said, 'Barolo and whatever.'

Zeno clapped his hands. 'You are in luck.' They'd gotten into this routine a few months earlier. Rather than look at the menu, Heimo just let Zeno use his judgment. And he'd never regretted it.

Tonight it was a Mediterranean fish soup, a linguine vongole with tiny truffles, and a tiramisu, all fresh and luscious. And the taut red Barolo sluiced down without meeting any objections. At the end, replete and relaxed, he had almost contrived to forget the fiendish Falkners.

He expected to get no worthwhile information out of the pair, but he hoped their appearance would goose Thomas into doing something. And, if they hated their brothers, they might spill some interesting beans. But he was sure he'd regret bringing them back to Carinthia.

He paid the bill and walked home, dreading one final duty after a long, unrewarding day.

### Chapter 26

Ingrid, Hugo's wife, answered the phone. 'Heimo, you bad boy, why don't you call more often? The girls were asking about you last week. I told them you were busy, but they want to see you.'

'All right, Inga, I get the message. Tell them I'm sorry and I'll come up as soon as I can, but I really am busy. Is Hugo there? I need to talk to him about a few things.'

'He's just coming.'

He heard Ingrid tell his brother who it was. When Hugo came on, his voice was cool. 'Hi Heimo, what's happening?'

'Oh, the usual stuff. Dead bodies everywhere, and like that. I need to tell you about Dad. He's had some new tests.'

'Jesus, they're always testing. What is it now?'

'He's got something called Huntington's chorea. Ever heard of it?'

'No.'

'I hadn't either, but the doc gave me some information. Basically, it's a genetic thing. He's starting to have signs of dementia and muscle coordination problems, and it'll get worse over time.'

Hugo was quiet for a few moments. 'How long has he got?'

'The doc doesn't know, maybe five to ten years, maybe less. This thing usually shows up in people in their thirties and forties, and the prognosis is for maybe twenty years. When it happens to older people, they're less certain. But Dad is going to need more care sooner rather than later.'

'What's the dementia look like?'

'Hard to explain. Sometimes it's like he's not aware of you at all. Then he'll seem OK, but he switches off in the middle of a conversation. Doesn't happen all the time, but it's disconcerting.'

'Does this mean you expect me to do something? Because I'm busy at work, the girls are in school, and Inga's back at the bank. So it's not like we've got a lot of time.'

'Dad may not have a lot of time either. I know he'd like to see the girls.'

'I'll think about it, see if we can get away, but I don't know when.'

Heimo was still staving off the inevitable. 'Did Dad ever say anything to you about us owning a farm?'

'A farm? No, what farm? Where?'

'No idea. Just something he said that made no sense. Maybe it's just the mental problems. Anyway, there's something else. Are Inga and the kids around?'

'No, they're out back. What is it?'

'This Huntington's thing is genetic. But it's inherited. Any child whose parent has it has a 50-50 chance of having it also. You and I might be affected.' He stopped.

Hugo's breathing rate doubled and Heimo heard a sibilant "Oh, shit".

He waited a minute, then said, 'I know, hit me that way too. But it's not quite as bad as it first looks.'

Hugo exploded. 'Not as bad? It sounds like a bloody death sentence?'

'It does, but even if we've got it, nothing happens for a long time. Your life doesn't have to change much. And like the doc said, we're all going to die of something sometime.'

'That's a lot of platitudinous crap, and you know it.' He stopped. 'Jesus, if I've got it, then I've passed it on to the girls.'

'No - stop it. It does not, repeat not, get passed on to every child. We could both be OK. But we can't know for sure without being tested.'

'Tested how?'

Heimo explained and tried to calm his brother by getting into the details and possible outcomes.

'Some people decide not to get tested - they'd rather not know. So we've got a choice. There's a counseling service in Graz about this kind of thing, and maybe we should go. I know it's bad, but don't go off the deep end.'

'I'm trying, but it's not easy. It's like someone telling you you're going to be shot in the morning. And not just me, it's my kids.'

'And Dad. If it is, it is, and we do the best we can. You need to think about this for a while. It gets a little easier after a day or two - I know. And I suggest you do not tell Inga until you've thought it through, or maybe not until you've decided whether to get tested.'

'Have you? Been tested, I mean.'

'No. I haven't made up my mind yet, and I'm up to my eyes with a couple of cases. I need to let it settle for a while. Look on the internet. There's a lot of good information, and Waldemar, the doctor treating Dad, said he'd be happy to talk to you if you wanted.'

They were both silent for a while. Then Hugo said, 'I need to go', and the phone went dead.

Heimo turned his phone off and put it in the charger. He poured a drink and stared out the window for a few minutes, wisps of despair and panic nibbling at him. Hugo reacted the way he expected. And he reckoned Inga would stand up to the news when she found out. But the thought of his nieces hollowed out a void in his belly that no amount of alcohol would fill.

### Chapter 27

The morning briefing produced no surprises. Heimo brought everyone up to date and got sympathetic nods. No progress was much more common in police work than most civilians realized. He mentioned the Falkner twins, and the nods turned to grins.

Heimo told Gunther, 'I want you to go over to Villach and talk to this guy Fitello. You know more about what's going on over there than I do. I don't give a damn about the drugs, but I'm hoping he'll cough up names we can use. It might open things up.'

Gunther said, 'They caught him holding, so it should be easy to talk deal. Back about lunch time.'

Heimo stopped in to brief Walter. 'I've got the terrible twins in the cells. There are no grounds to hold them, but I want to turn them over to Thomas and see what happens.'

Walter nodded. 'OK. I take it you got nothing out of them.'

'Not a thing except a mouthful of nasty. Pretty obvious they hate their brothers, and I imagine they're hated in return. But they must be getting money from somewhere, so there might be some leverage. Neither they nor Thomas qualify as suspects, so it won't be much help even if they start a fight in the custody room.'

Walter reached for his buzzing phone and said, 'Good luck.'

Heimo called Thomas Falkner. The receptionist answered. When Heimo identified himself, Trude said, 'I will see if he is available Chief Inspector.'

'I understand. Just tell him it's about his family.'

The phone clicked over to "The Theme From A Summer Place" for two minutes, then Falkner came on the line. His voice was harsh. 'What do you want now, damn it? I don't have time for this.'

'I've got your sister Elinor and brother Josef here.'

The silence was long. Finally Falkner said, 'Keep them.'

'I'm afraid we can't, Mr. Falkner - no grounds to hold them and you are their only relative. They've been in jail in Switzerland, so I have to turn them over to someone rather than just putting them on the street.' Not strictly true, but it would do. 'I need you to come down here and take charge of them. Or, if you prefer, I can deliver them to your office. Which way do you want it?'

'For god's sake, don't bring them anywhere near here.' Falkner sounded panicky at the idea. 'Shit, I don't need this. Or them. All right, I'll come there, but not for an hour at least.'

'Fine. Tell the duty officer who you are and we'll make the arrangements.'

He called the bank. They put him through to the assistant manager. 'I don't know what to say, Chief Inspector. Mr. Paulus has not been in this morning, and I haven't been able to speak to him. Can you tell me specifically what you need?'

Heimo gave him the details. 'We need both the personal account transactions and the business account.'

'I understand. Can you hold while I check our system?'

Heimo could hear keys clicking. After a few moments the assistant said, 'There are two business accounts for Falkner Industries and two personal accounts under the names Gerhard and Thomas Falkner. Are those all you need?'

'Two business accounts?'

'That's correct. One is a Euro account, which must be the normal current account, and one is a Swiss Franc account which may be used for international transfers.'

'Thank you, I'll need both as well as the personal accounts. Is the account for Thomas Falkner a new one?'

'Doesn't appear to be. I show two years of transactions, and there may be more in the archives.'

'Odd. When I talked to Mr. Paulus, he told me only Gerhard had an account.'

The assistant was quiet for a moment. 'Well, perhaps he had forgotten. I've never seen Thomas Falkner here in the bank. But...I don't know.'

'It's not important. But I need the records of all transactions for the last twelve months. And, by the way, do you need an authorization from me?'

'I'll print them out immediately. And if you could provide me with a copy of the warrant, that would be sufficient.'

'You don't need permission from your head office?'

'No, of course not. Oh, we let them know the request has been made, but the Police requirement and the warrant are all that's necessary. We receive one or two of these every year.'

'Interesting. I'll drop by this afternoon to pick them up.'

His phone buzzed - Karl Halegger. 'Finished with Falkner's car, Heimo. Not much help, I'm afraid. No evidence of any violence, no blood or fibers that we can match to anything we've got. We did find several prints that are not Falkner's, but no complete sets, and none of them match anything in our database. However, I think it was the killer who stashed the car. The steering wheel, gearshift and door handles have been wiped.'

'Are the prints clear enough to use if we find a suspect?'

'They are.'

Heimo dived back into the paper mound on his desk for a while. Walter stuck his head in the door. 'Got a minute?'

He followed the big man down the corridor to the office. 'More complaints about you, my boy.'

'Oh good. Always nice to be appreciated. What now?'

'You're moving up in the world. This one was from Moser. Man's got the deadest voice I've ever heard - no expression at all. Anyway, it's the usual. Some of the people you questioned moaned. They want to be assured the police will no longer contact them.'

'Even if they're guilty?'

'Especially then. I suggested to Moser we could go to the papers, list of the people questioned, and say they are exonerated from murder charges, but he didn't seem to find that acceptable. So I asked him if they had a list of people who were not to be questioned. That must have annoyed him because Mehringer, who I assume was listening in, got on the line.'

'You have been favored.'

'I know. He tried to slip me the old political oil about us being on the same side, and having an interest in catching criminals, and so forth. I managed not to throw up. Anyway, he finally got to the point, which was he doesn't trust your judgment. Big surprise. I told him the investigation was too complicated now for me to replace you. He grumbled, but let it go.'

'Thanks, I think. I could turn it over to Gunther, if it makes it easier.'

'Wouldn't help. Anybody who investigates this thing is going to step on toes. Just watch your back.'

Heimo threw a mock salute. 'Will do, boss. I'm picking up the bank records this afternoon. Thomas is coming over to fetch his brother and sister, albeit under duress, but I told him the alternative was to dump them at his office. His worst nightmare apparently, so he agreed to pick them up. Might be fun if you want to watch.'

'Send me a photo.'

Just as Heimo got back to the office, his intercom buzzed. The duty desk informed him a Mr. Falkner was waiting.

Heimo went downstairs. Falkner's face was almost as black as his hair. When he saw Heimo, he said, 'Let's get this over with.'

Heimo nodded and took him to the interview room. 'Wait here.'

The custody officer said, 'Come to fetch our problem children?'

'I have. How are they?'

'Well, they smell better. I made 'em take a shower, but the clothes are pretty rank. And I would guess they are both starting to withdraw.'

Heimo was surprised. 'Can't be heroin. They've been in the jug in Geneva for about five days.'

The custody officer shook his head. 'I don't think it's anything specific. My guess is they've been overdoing everything including booze and god knows what else for years. This is probably the longest they've gone without for quite a while.'

Heimo signed the paperwork, and the officer opened two of the cell doors. Neither of the twins emerged. Heimo looked into Elinor's cell and said, 'Come on out. You're going home with your brother.'

When she looked up, Heimo knew what the custody officer was talking about. She was sitting on the bunk and gripping her legs. Her face was gray and covered in a sheen of sweat. She had just enough energy to say 'bastard', but she made no move to get up. The custody officer went in and helped her up. He was surprisingly gentle. Heimo opened Josef's cell. He was rocking back and forth and moaning in a low voice.

'Time to go. Thomas is here to take you home.'

No response so Heimo took his arm and lifted. There was a lot of mass under the coat sleeve, but it was as flabby as wet cement. Josef allowed himself to be guided out.

Once they were both up and walking, Heimo and the custody officer steered them to the interview room. Heimo had told Alex to stand by, and he was leaning against the wall. When he saw Heimo's cargo, he shook his head and opened the door.

Thomas was on his feet. He stared at his brother and sister, face twisted in disgust. 'Jesus.'

Elinor tried to focus. Her lips peeled back over bad teeth. 'Hello, little brother. Haven't seen you for a while.'

Thomas growled - or snarled; it was hard to tell which. 'You two are a disgrace.'

Elinor snorted. Josef seemed to awaken. 'Same old ...Thomas. We came back to help. 'Cause of Gerhard, you see.' His voice skated over the vowels and sprayed the sibilants.

Thomas balled his fists like he was going to take a swing at his brother, but he mastered himself with considerable effort. 'You have no right to speak of him. You're both parasites. Now get in the car. I'll take you to the house, but don't think you're staying.'

He turned his back and walked away without looking to see if they followed. Elinor stuck her tongue out, but they both trailed after him, his company apparently preferable to the Police. Heimo and Alex stayed a few steps behind.

When Thomas opened the front door, Heimo put his hand on the man's arm. 'One moment please, you need to sign some paperwork. We're releasing them to your custody. They must stay in Austria for the time being. If they leave the country, particularly if they try to go to Switzerland, there could be repercussions. And keep us advised of their whereabouts for at least a month.'

Thomas stared at him. 'They are adults. Legally. I am not their keeper. If you want to know where they are, you watch them.'

Heimo shrugged and handed him two forms. Thomas ripped a mark across each, then stalked out to his car. His ragtag followers dragged along in his wake.

When they returned to the office, Gunther had just come in. 'Might have something worthwhile from the dealer.'

'Let's hear it.'

'Pretty sure this guy sold coke to Gerhard, probably several times. He's vague about dates, or claims to be, but the description matches. They did the business around the Casino area. Pushed him hard on his connection, but he clammed up. I think whoever it is has him scared. I reckon he'll do the fall on his own before he gives anyone away. But I did get one name out of him.'

He grinned at Heimo and said, 'Jimmy Oushan.'

'Well I'm damned, "Oceans 11" huh? I haven't seen him in a while. Must have been away on a little holiday. Fitello know where he is?'

Gunther shook his head. 'Wouldn't say. But Oushan's never far from Velden, is he? I think it might be worthwhile looking him up.'

Heimo agreed. Oushan was a nasty little rat, but he could produce quite a lot of good information with the right pressure. Although never a regular snout, Heimo had found him useful on two or three cases. And he was just the sort of character who might have usable dirt on Gerhard Falkner and company.

He told Gunther about the negative results on Falkner's car. 'Be nice to fingerprint everyone to try for a match, but I don't think that will go over too well.'

One more dead end in a case that was full of them.

### Chapter 28

Heimo called a colleague who was familiar with the drug scene in the Velden area. 'Any idea where Jimmy Oushan might hang out?'

'This early he's probably still in bed. Jimmy's a night bird. I think he has a room in a gasthaus next to the marina. The one with the green filigree all over the front - know it?'

Heimo did. They drove around the north shore of the lake, through Velden, and out the other side, climbing the hill to the south road. The gasthaus was a kilometer away. Gunther parked by a small hotel about two hundred meters from Oushan's possible lair. 'No point warning him if he happens to be up early.'

They walked down a bicycle track to the gasthaus. The entrance was at one end of a long veranda edged with the trademark iron filigree. Gunther stayed outside looking the building over while Heimo went in to find out if their target was in residence. The woman behind the counter was reluctant to divulge anything until Heimo pulled his ID out. Then she got red in the face and whispered, 'Room 104, just at the top of the stairs.'

'Is there a back way out of there?'

'Oh no. Well...except the fire escape of course. We have to have one of those.'

'And is Mr. Oushan in?'

'I think so. I haven't seen him come down. He works nights you know.'

Heimo smiled, 'Yes, I do know as a matter of fact.'

He went out to Gunther and said, 'Looks like he's there. You take the fire escape in the back, and I'll go tap on his door.' Gunther nodded and started around the side. Heimo gave him a minute to get in position, then went in and climbed the stairs.

There seemed to be no other activity on the landing. Room 104 was just to the right. Heimo stood to the left of door and knocked on it. There was no answer for a moment, then a raspy voice said, 'What the hell is it?'

In his best falsetto, Heimo said, 'Sorry sir, there's a message for you.'

More silence, then, 'Bloody. Wait a minute.'

Heimo heard shuffling sounds. The door started to open and Heimo shoved it, catching the occupant by surprise and thrusting him back toward the unmade bed. Heimo stepped in and said, 'Hello young James. How goes it with you?'

Oushan gawped at him. He was a man of fifty with iron gray short hair and grubby stubble on his cheeks. He wore granny glasses, which gave him a rather peering and grandfatherly air, and sported a beer belly bulging over his pajamas. The look he was giving Heimo was anything but cuddly.

'What the hell do you think you're doing Kapeller, busting into a man's room?'

'Well Jimmy, sometimes I worry you don't appreciate my company. We need to have a little chat.'

'What about?'

'Oh, this and that. We're not taking you into town, if that's worrying you. I'm only after information. You know how it is.'

'Maria! You never leave a man alone, do you?'

'Come on, get dressed. Sooner we do this, the sooner it'll be over, and you can get back to your shady activities.'

Oushan kept up a steady stream of muttered invective and self-pitying moans while he pulled on some disreputable trousers and a ratty old green sweater.

By the time he was ready, Gunther had showed up at the door. He grinned at Oushan's discomfort.

They escorted him out of the gasthaus and down the street to the car. Gunther got in front and Heimo climbed in back with Oushan. Heimo said, 'Better go up in the hills, Gunther. Jimmy's friends might take it amiss if he was seen with us.'

Once they were away from the lake, Heimo turned to Oushan. 'Let's be clear where we're at Jimmy. I need information. You are not involved in anything, but if you mess me around, you might find yourself back in the can. Understood?'

Oushan just stared at him.

'We picked up a dealer a few days ago. He had lots of goodies on him, so he thought it would be a good idea if he talked to us and maybe reduced the jolt he's going to get. In the course of our chats, he told us he sold a little coke to a man named Gerhard Falkner. Heard of him?'

Oushan shook his head.

'You need to keep up with the news. Falkner was found a week ago with a bullet through his skull, and guess what? Our dealer says he got the coke from you. So you see why we're having this little visit.'

'I don't know nothin' about any coke. Or this guy who got wasted.'

'Not sure the judge will go along with you. Our boy was carrying almost a kilo. If he says you're the connection, especially with your track record, I think we could count on five to seven, don't you? But like I say, I'm feeling big-hearted.' He leaned forward until his face was centimeters from Oushan's. 'But if you screw around on this, your life won't be worth living. Clear?'

Oushan didn't blink, but his color faded to the same gray as his stubble.

Heimo leaned back. 'Where'd the coke come from?'

Oushan snorted, 'You can't expect me to tell you that. Anyone found out, I could get killed.'

'Better think about it. Not only is Falkner dead, but so is Matthias Skolnik. And shot the same way. This is big league, Jimmy. We can keep you out of it, or we can pass the word - your choice.'

'God, you're a bastard.' Oushan was silent for a moment. 'A guy calls himself Delos. I don't know what his real name is.'

'Where do you make the buy and how do you get in touch with him?'

'I don't. He calls when he wants to sell, and he tells me where. And he uses different numbers, so I don't know who it is when he calls.'

'Description?'

'Just a guy.'

'Have to do better than that. Austrian?'

'Yeah, I think so. Tall, about your height, short hair. Always makes the meet at night in a dark place, so I don't see much.'

'What else?'

Oushan was silent for a minute. 'Two times he's had a call. He's not so careful about that. One time I see the screen - it says "FC". The other time, when he answers it he says, "Andy". But I didn't see or hear nothin' else.'

'That wasn't so hard, was it? Does he tell you how much to take, or does he ask you how much you want?'

'He asks.'

'So, would you say he has more than you need?'

'Oh, yeah.'

'When was the last time you made a buy?'

Oushan wiggled and looked out the window. He muttered something.

'When?'

'Two weeks ago, about. I don't remember the exact day.'

'Skolnik had his paws in a number of pies. You ever deal with him?'

'No!'

'No? So of course you don't know anything about his sudden departure from this vale of tears.'

'What?'

'You don't know who wasted him?'

'I bloody well don't.'

'OK, you've been a reasonably good boy. But I want you to remember a couple of things. The man you're dealing with may be a killer. And if I were you, I would keep out of sight for a while, maybe on a nice vacation in a foreign country. You understand?'

'Yeah.'

'We'll drop you away from the gasthaus. You look like you could use the exercise.'

Gunther allowed the car to coast down a small track through several villages until they came to the main road. There was no traffic, and Oushan scrambled out and walked away without a word. Heimo got into the front seat.

As they started back, Gunther said, 'What do you think ?'

Heimo stared out the window. 'You first.'

'Pure speculation of course, but the name "'Andy" intrigues me. If Moser is the connection, is "Andy" Mehringer?'

'Same thing occurred to me, but I'm not sure what we can do about it. What about the other?'

'No idea. Could be anything. Someone's initials, name of a company, abbreviation. Ring any bells for you?'

'Maybe. But it's too farfetched to chase.'

Gunther glanced at him, but Heimo offered nothing else. 'So we know where the coke comes into it, but I don't see it helps.'

'The description fits Konrad Moser.'

Gunther snorted. 'And a thousand other guys. I'm just not seeing Moser tip-toeing around in the middle of the night peddling coke to some low-life like Oushan. Whatever the guy might be, he's not likely to be that far down the food chain. Unless you know something I don't.'

Heimo, much as he wanted to, couldn't go any further. 'I'm probably way off base. But Moser has some very unsavory connections.'

'Do they involve murder?'

'If the rumors are correct, could be. But it's a million kilometers from being any kind of evidence. We've got to have something solid.'

They drove back to the office, considering possibilities and all the ways they might get into trouble by following them up.

Gunther dropped Heimo off. Heimo picked up his car and went to the bank to retrieve the records. As soon as he walked in, the assistant manager came out to meet him. 'Chief Inspector, I'm Johann Wras. Please come to my office.'

Down a short corridor, Wras ushered him into a cubicle. It was nice enough, but nothing like the grandeur of Paulus's office. Wras gestured at a chair and sat down behind his own desk.

Heimo said, 'Mr. Paulus not in today?'

Wras shook his head. 'No, I'm afraid not. He is at home with some sort of illness.'

Heimo's eyes narrowed. 'Some sort?'

'Well, to be frank, I am worried. He didn't call me, or have his wife call me, which is what usually happens if he's ill. This time I got a message from central reception. I tried to call his home, but the phone is engaged.' He shrugged. 'It's probably nothing.'

Heimo took it in but asked no questions.

Wras said, 'Anyway, I have the records for the accounts.'

Heimo pulled out a copy of the warrant and passed it over.

Wras said, 'Thank you. I've notified head office and they said there's no problem.' He passed a large sheaf of printouts over to Heimo. 'They are separated and marked. We have a further twelve months of records on our local system should you need them.'

'Thank you. One question. We've received directives from the Ministry and from Interpol regarding money laundering. Can you tell me what the bank does about this?'

Wras nodded. 'We also have received numerous directives. Money laundering is becoming a major issue all over Europe. We have an office in Vienna to deal with it, and we at the branch level are required to make reports if we see certain types of activity. Most of the detection will be handled by new software. Now it's difficult to catch unless we have other indications.'

'Like what?'

Wras smiled. 'Well, perhaps someone who walks in every month with a suitcase full of cash. We would ask questions. But laundered money usually comes in and goes out via normal transactions from individuals or companies.' He stopped dead. 'Is that what you think is going on with the Falkner accounts?'

Heimo said, 'I have no idea, it's not my area. We're trying to find Mr. Falkner's murderer. It's possible his or his company's financial arrangements might give us a lead.'

'Should I notify my head office?'

'Not necessary. We don't know if there's anything to look for. Examining bank records is just routine procedure.'

Wras sat back. 'Very well, but please keep me informed. It's one of my responsibilities.'

Heimo stood. 'Of course. And if you would, ask Mr. Paulus to call me when he's recovered. There may be more questions.'

Heimo drove back to the office. Before he got out of the car, he called Victor and told him about the bank records but didn't mention Paulus.

Victor said, 'Great. Send the printouts to us, and I'll get our people to look them over. But I can tell you, we're virtually certain the Falkners are laundering. We've pulled the records for the company in Linz. They use their own bank, and we've identified a pattern typical of such an operation. We're following the links to get to the depositors and receivers, but it takes time because these buggers use dummy accounts all over the world. Anyway, your records might turn up something more immediate, so send 'em along.'

'Will do. I'd also like your people to check on several people and accounts related to our investigation. We've got stuff from Skolnik we can't connect yet, but you might do better.'

'No problem. How goes the investigation?'

'Slower than an old tractor. But we make a little progress now and then. Talk to you later.'

He sat for a few minutes and tried to connect money laundering with Gerhard's death. It would make sense if Falkner had creamed off a big transaction or was taking more than his cut. Nasty people would be upset, people who wouldn't hesitate to remove an unreliable partner. But there was no evidence Falkner had any more money than could be legitimately accounted for. Of course, if he was using international accounts, he could have hidden it in a lot of places.

Heimo shook his head. Same problem - if that was the motive behind Falkner's death, it still didn't point to anyone.

### Chapter 29

Everyone was waiting when he got back except Alex, who walked in just as Heimo sat down. He'd told Gunther to hold off briefing the team on Oushan.

'We're succeeding in stirring things up. There have been several complaints, and they all seem to end up in Mehringer's office, so I expect to be fired in about a day and a half. However, we do have information which might pay dividends.'

He described the meeting with the dealer, and the potential drugs link through Moser. 'Jimmy heard his connection talk to someone named Andy. Could be short for Andreas, Mehringer's first name, or it could be Andy Pandy. No way to tell. We're guessing the connection might be Moser. I'd like to confirm that, but any move we make will tip our hand and probably get us pulled off the case. But we must figure out what's going on. Suggestions?'

They stared into space for a few moments, then Alex said, 'I'm lost. Maybe Moser supplies drugs, but how does that tie in with Falkner?'

Heimo nodded. 'It doesn't, at least not directly. But the theory we're working on is that if Moser, one of Mehringer's main flunkies, is dealing drugs, then there are lots of dirty fingers. Dirty fingers mean motives for eliminating anyone who's a threat. Maybe Falkner and Skolnik were causing problems. We're out of suspects, out of leads and out of ideas. Drugs and political connections are all we have left.'

Sigi said, 'We should put Moser under surveillance for a while.'

Heimo agreed. 'And we need to keep an eye on the Falkner clan. So I propose we knock off most of the other stuff for at least a few days and work up some shifts to watch both. I've already asked Walter to get Surveillance involved, but they're up to their eyes. We might be able to get some help on the Falkners from the St. Veit station. I'll call and see how they're fixed.'

They spent a half hour sorting schedules. St. Veit volunteered two officers for eight hours a night for the next three days. At the end, they felt they could cover both targets for a while. If nothing happened, they'd reassess.

Heimo went down the hall to talk to the Drug Squad. He told them about the meeting with Oushan, which surprised no one. But when he mentioned Moser, he got blank looks. Everything went quiet for a moment, then Vallentin Pleschnig, the number two man, said, 'Tell you what Heimo, let's you and me go for a beer.' The other officers turned back to their desks without comment.

When they reached the canteen, Heimo started in, but Pleschnig steered him to one of the interview rooms. He closed the door and stood looking at Heimo. 'I think we might have a little problem.' His voice was soft.

Heimo sat down and said, 'What kind of problem?'

Pleschnig just watched him for a moment. 'Moser.'

'Why?'

'Why do you think he's a drug connection?'

'Information from various sources.'

Pleschnig shook his head. 'Not good enough, Heimo. From whom?'

Heimo sighed. 'Sorry. Let's go find Walter.' He stood up.

Pleschnig seemed undecided for a moment, then shrugged. 'Let's.'

As they walked down the hallway toward Walter's office, they heard him coming behind them. He rumbled, 'Been sent to the headmaster's office, have you?' Then he saw their faces and muttered, 'Shit.'

He shoved them into the office. 'Shut the damn door.'

Heimo did so, and he and Pleschnig stood, rocking uncomfortably, hands jammed in pockets.

Walter went behind his desk. He looked at Pleschnig. 'Tell me.'

'Moser.'

Walter nodded. 'I was afraid this might happen.' He leaned back and stared at his juniors for a moment. 'Vallentin, he'll have to know some of it, or we'll get our wires tangled.'

'Your decision.'

'It is. Go for a walk, then come back in ten minutes.' The Inspector left without a word.

Walter waved Heimo to the couch. 'This is messy, but there's no other way to do it. I presume you want to follow up on Moser. Why?'

Heimo related the interview with Oushan. 'If Moser is a drugs conduit, he might sell directly to someone like Jimmy who has a reputation for being able to shift significant amounts. It's the only good lead we've had.'

Walter grunted. 'Not sure it's that good. Who else knows?'

'My people and Victor.'

Walter's eyes rolled up. 'Victor. Wonderful. What did he say?'

'They had nothing on him, but they're starting to look into it.'

'And shortly there will be a large explosion and blood on the walls.'

'So are you going to tell me what all this is, or do I guess.'

'I'll give you what you need to know. Vallentin and two of his people suspect Moser of being a major link for drugs from the south, and they've been working on him for a while. Because of his position with Mehringer, it had to be kept very quiet. But they don't have enough to make an arrest. The transport system is complicated, and they haven't been able to catch him in the act. If you start to crawl up his tail, it could spook him and spoil a lot of work.'

'OK, I get it, but what if he's my killer? If he's the conduit, then he might be the type to blow someone away if he thought he had to.'

Walter nodded. 'He would. The problem is, you have no evidence to link him to either murder, whereas Vallentin has quite a lot. Frankly, if we put him away for twenty-five for drugs, I'd be happy. But I know we need the murderer as well.'

'There's something else, something Oushan told us. I haven't had time to discuss it with you.'

Walter's eyes narrowed. 'I'm not going to like this, am I?'

Heimo shrugged. He described the name and initials. 'I've no idea what they are, but we wondered if "Andy" could be Mehringer.'

Walter waved a finger. 'Don't go there Heimo. You're stretching again.'

'The point is, Oushan couldn't, or wouldn't, identify his connection. But if we trace phone calls and match them with times, it might confirm Moser as the drug connection, and it might put Mehringer in the frame.'

'Where would it get us? We already think Moser is the connection. We're already watching him. But there is absolutely no evidence that he shot your victims, or that Mehringer has any idea about his boy's shady sideline.'

'I know, but he's about the only viable suspect I've got. We're running out of places to look.'

'I sympathize, but you're going to have to lay off him for the time being. When we're ready to make the bust, we'll dig into him to try to find out if he's also a hit man, see if we can find a weapon, and so forth. But this whole thing must stay quiet for the moment. If it gets out, we could all be in the deep stuff.'

Heimo was not happy, but there seemed no choice. He left the office and walked down the hall. He met Vallentin coming back. The other man smiled. 'Sorry, Heimo, I really am.'

Heimo just nodded. He closed the office door which surprised the team, and they turned to face him. He went over to his desk, leaned against it.

'We stay off Moser.' He held up his hand as mouths opened to protest. 'Surveillance is on him already. But it's on the quiet, so no further discussion or mention of him. Clear?'

He looked at each individual and got a nod and look of bewilderment. They went back to their desks.

Heimo sat for a moment and wondered why Walter had not asked any questions about the initials Oushan had given them.

### Chapter 30

Buried once more in the minutia of police administration, Heimo lost track of time, aware only of quiet movements and clicking mice. When his phone buzzed, he had to root around in the paper to find it. It was his brother.

'How's it going?' Heimo said.

'Well, it's going. Maybe that's as good as it gets. I've been thinking about this damn thing nonstop. Have you decided to tell dad?'

'I can't see any point. He's OK most of the time, but his memory is crap, and he's permanently pissed off. If I tell him, how will it help? He might or might not understand, and if he does, what changes? What's your feeling?'

'I agree. I don't like the idea of him sitting there with nothing to think about except losing his mind. You're taking the test, right?'

'Yeah, I'd rather know. What about you?'

'I sort of have to. I was really down, and...well, I told Ingrid. She took it OK. Said to me, "We're all going to die of something, aren't we?" When I described the heredity thing, she got a little teary, but she reckons we should wait until the girls are older to tell them and let them make their own decision. Of course, if I'm clear, no problem. Inga says as far as she knows, nobody in her family ever had it, so it's just me.'

Heimo said, 'She's right. I've researched some more and a lot of people decide they don't want to know in advance. When are you coming down?'

'This weekend if I get everything organized. Are you likely to be working?'

'Not unless something unusual happens. We try to make the criminals work during the week, but sometimes they forget. Are you bringing Ingrid and the kids?'

'Yeah, I want them to see dad as much as they can before it gets any worse. And they want to see Uncle Heimo. So we should be down around lunch on Saturday.'

Heimo told them to stop by the flat first, then rang off. His father, the illness and all the potential problems had been out of his mind for some time. But he couldn't decide if that was good or bad. He wondered if anyone else had overheard the conversation. He turned and saw industrious backs engaged with telephones and computers.

Heimo called Cristina, feeling shy about it for no real reason. When she answered, he said, 'I'm hungry and thirsty and sick of crime. Would you like to save my life?'

'Let me check my schedule, I may have other people to save tonight. Ah, you're in luck. I have an opening in which apparently nobody is dying. Where and when?'

'Seven o'clock, and wherever.'

She mentioned a place he'd heard of, but never been to, and just like that, he had a date.

Heimo pulled on decent clothes, ran a brush over his shoes and headed to the restaurant she'd chosen. It was a small, rustic inn ten kilometers south of town in the foothills of the Alps. They specialized in old-fashioned farm cuisine.

The place was empty when he arrived which suited his mood. He had a beer standing at the counter, and it went down with gratifying smoothness. The second one appeared as Cristina walked in the door.

He was surprised the way his heart lifted when she smiled at him. She was dressed in something cream and tan with the understated elegance of French design. Her sunglasses were perched on her hair, and the evening sunlight surmounted her with a gold halo.

The owner, an old woman dressed in national costume, took them to their table.

Heimo said, 'I'll finish this beer. What would you like?'

The owner said, 'I've something special. Wait a moment.'

When she left, Heimo said, 'You look terrific. Did you work today, or was it all catwalk stuff?'

She giggled. 'I'd love that if I thought it was the first time you used it. Yes, I was buried in the depths of the criminal justice system for hours, and it was hell.'

The owner returned with something red and frothy in a stemmed glass. Cristina sipped and paused for a moment. 'Lovely. What is it?'

The old woman grinned and held a finger alongside her nose. She put the menus in front of them, they ordered, and she went back to the kitchen.

Cristina said, 'I know you don't want to talk shop, but is there anything I need to know?'

He sighed. 'Yes, but let's leave it until after we've eaten.'

She looked at him for quite a long time as though searching his face for something and not finding it. 'So what should we talk about?'

'Tell me a story. Tell me a story about you and your amazing family.'

'Might be rather boring. We fall well short of amazing.'

'I'll chance it.'

'On your head be it. I mentioned my brother who is three years older. He's married and has a boy and a girl. Our parents are both dead. So are all the grandparents. In fact, we have no other living relatives as far as I know. Boring, like I said.'

'What did your parents do?'

'My dad worked in a slaughterhouse for most of his life. I never realized it until I went away to university, but he always smelled of blood. When I was young, it was just a normal smell. Mother was a housewife.'

'And your grandparents?'

'I know very little. They died before I was born, and I never heard much about them. My mother would sometimes say something like "my mother used to" or "Mother always said". It's funny, but I never asked about them.'

Heimo nodded. 'I was the same. They weren't around, and the subject didn't come up. When Dad blurted out this thing about a farm, I was startled. First time I ever remember him mentioning the past. Where did you go to university?'

Cristina gave him a potted history of her schooling, and her decision to study law. 'I was very naive, I saw myself as a female Perry Mason. When I finished law school, I was already having doubts, but I hoped it would be better in the "real world". And in some ways, it was.'

She'd worked in Vienna for two years specializing in estate management. 'I rather enjoyed it because it meant working with families over a long period, and I got to know people well. I also acquired an advance degree in veniality. Whenever there was any money in an estate, the heirs were all over it with the claws out.'

'Why did you leave?'

'Got a job offer from someone I knew at school. He'd gone to work for a government department, and they were developing a system working with new EU entrants. It was interesting for a while.'

'And then you came back to dear old Klagenfurt. Most people who go to Vienna stay there.'

She looked down at the last of her drink, then tipped it up and finished it. 'That was very nice. Not a boy's tipple though, too sweet.'

Heimo sensed he was treading into an area she didn't want to enter. 'I was stationed in Vienna for a few years. A long time ago, but it was a good tour.'

'Doing what?'

'Major incident response team. We'd be called out if there were bomb threats or train wrecks. Most of it was geared to terrorism, but I liked it because every day was different.'

She grinned. 'Cowboys and Indians?'

He laughed. 'More like Albanians and Romanians. Gang problems, people trafficking, drugs - the usual junk you get in big cities.'

The old woman showed up with two armfuls of steaming plates and started arranging them. By the time she'd finished, they were both smiling.

Heimo said, 'I should have invited the rest of the team. There's enough here for six people.'

Cristina picked up her knife and fork. 'We'll just have to be brave. Once more into the sauerkraut, dear friends.'

Heimo waved a hand at the owner. She had two bottles of wine. He looked them over, then pointed at a decent burgundy with his fork. The woman bobbed and left to open it.

For some time there was little sound except utensils clicking on plates and murmurs of appreciation. Sated at last, glasses were raised to toast the cuisine.

Heimo said, 'I haven't eaten that much since I got out of the Army. I may need a forklift to get me out of here.'

Cristina had been more abstemious, but she too had tucked away a fair amount. 'I'll regret it later, but it was too good to waste, wasn't it. And I applaud monsieur's choice of wine. It's heavy, isn't it?'

'Just missed being too much. I don't drink a lot of red anymore, but this meal seemed to deserve it.'

The lady came to clear away, then stood by the table with her hands folded over her apron. As soon as she said 'strudel', they both shook their heads in emphatic denial, and she giggled and left them to it.

They twirled the last of the wine for a few minutes, each looking inward.

Cristina said, 'I found out a few more things about the Falkners.'

Heimo finished his glass. 'I am now well fortified. Let's have it.'

'Gerhard's father and grandfather were sued several times during the late forties and early fifties. Most of the plaintiffs contended their properties were illegally seized. The judgements don't make much sense, but the period after the war up to '55 was confused. So I had to read between the lines. I think the Falkners managed to acquire a surprising amount of land using bribery and corruption. Most of the documents refer to the plaintiff's previous title to the land, and the fact that it had been in their families for generations. But they seldom won.'

'How many lawsuits were there?'

'I'm not sure because the documentation is incomplete. But there were forty-seven I could verify.'

Heimo put both hands flat on the table. 'Forty-seven! And if that was just the people who sued, I wonder how many there were who didn't or couldn't. Did the Falkners win all of them?'

She leaned back and grimaced. 'No - just forty-four.'

'Did you find my family in there?'

'Yes and no. There was no lawsuit. But one of the Falkners did own a farm that had been registered to a man named Gottfried Kapeller. Is he your father?'

'Dad's name is Erich. Gottfried was my grandfather.'

'Do you know what happened to him?'

'No, he died before I was born. My dad was about ten or twelve at the time, around the late '40s or early '50s.' Did you find anything else?'

'The land registry shows where the place was, at least in terms of coordinates, and describes the buildings. There was something odd, however. The name of the new owner was Hannalore Falkner. I hadn't heard you mention her, so I looked her up. She's a sister of this current lot.'

Heimo wrinkled his nose. 'Haven't come across her.'

'You won't. She died in 1952. Aged five.'

'Five!. How the hell could she own land?'

'Exactly. It's one of the factors that make these transactions look...suspect.'

Heimo thought for a while. 'It fits with the picture we're getting of the Falkners. They've gone to considerable lengths to appear respectable and normal, but there's a lot of sleaze underneath. So far it doesn't help with the homicide. All we can do is stir the pot.'

'Are you going to ask your father about this?'

'I don't know. He's mentally in and out these days. I'm not sure what his response would be. Probably need to check with the doc first and see if it would be OK.' Another thought struck him. 'I suppose it's way too late to do anything about these land deals?'

'Afraid so. I haven't traced anything very far, but I imagine much of the land has been resold. And the records are so incomplete the court would have difficulty making a judgment. I have managed to obtain a copy of Gerhard Falkner's will, however.'

'Anything interesting?'

'Not particularly. Everything is left to Thomas. There are no bequests to the woman Fleissner or to the other brother and sister. There is one large donation to the Rosenheim Fund.'

'How large?'

'One hundred thousand Euros.'

'Nice little going-away present. Can you tell how large the whole estate is?'

'No, not from the will. If I dig into the records of their assets, I might be able to make an estimate. Is it important?'

'Not at all. I'm just curious.'

As expected, two glasses of schnapps appeared. Rather than the normal clear firewater, this was rose color. They sipped.

Cristina said, 'Nice, more like a liqueur than schnapps.'

Heimo knocked his back. He lifted an eyebrow at Cristina and she said, 'Ready if you are.'

Heimo signaled the owner and she brought the check. Cristina started to dig her purse out, but Heimo grabbed the bill. 'Not a chance.'

It was cold by the time they left the restaurant, but the moon was out and the stars were sharp and glittery. Heimo said, 'Want to find somewhere for an after-dinner drink?'

She shook her head. 'I've had enough.'

He wanted it to last but was reluctant to push.

She read him easily, saying, 'Why don't you follow me back to my place and I'll make coffee.'

He tried not to anticipate, tried to stay cool. But he still felt like a teenager on his second date.

She parked in her designated space, got out and motioned him to one marked for visitors. They walked up a half flight of stairs, and she unlocked her door and went in.

Her living room was neat, feminine, and well appointed. Heimo saw only one photograph, and almost no bric-a-brac. Better and better.

Cristina said, 'Sit wherever you like and I'll put the coffee on. Or would you like a drink? I've got various things.' She went into the kitchen.

Heimo sat on a sofa opposite what was obviously her own armchair. 'How about a "various things" cocktail?'

'Good idea. I'll mix everything in a pitcher and we'll see how long it takes us to go into a coma.'

'I'll pass.' He heard beans grinding and coffee aromas drifted through the hatch. 'How long have you lived here?'

'About six months. I got lucky and found it before I even left Vienna. It had been rented by a colleague who was giving it up to get married.'

'It's nice. Good space.'

'I'm happy with it.' Things in the kitchen made noises, and presently she emerged with a tray. She sat it on a small table in front of the couch and said, 'Help yourself.'

'Are you having one?'

'No, it would keep me up all night.'

Vaguely disappointed, he poured a coffee, dressed it with milk and sugar and leaned back. He took a sip and said, 'Nice. I'm a coffee freak. I spent too many years drinking junk because I never had any time.'

And they chatted, and it was lazy and comfortable and full-belly warm. He felt like he'd been here before, but it was also somehow new and different.

He glanced at his watch. 'I need to leave you be. You must be tired.'

'Umm.'

So he got to his feet, and she got to hers, and she just flowed into him. He lost himself in softness and fragrance and fitting together like two jigsaw pieces.

She pulled back a few centimeters, and searched his face again as though memorizing his features. He could only follow the dark pools of her eyes.

'It would be remiss of me to allow a policeman to drive in your condition.' She slid around to his side and they floated toward the bedroom.

### Chapter 31

When Heimo drifted into consciousness, he realized he was spooned into a soft warm body. Her head lay across one of his arms, which had gone numb, and butterscotch hair fanned out across the pillow. He stroked the nape of her neck and she wriggled.

'You'd better stop or we'll never get to work.'

'I've thought of that. Let's just say the hell with it and run away to the South Pacific.'

'You'll change your mind when you see my morning face.' She rolled around and snuggled into his chest. He held her for a long time, feeling a heartbeat through her slender frame.

She looked up after a while. 'This is better than nice.'

'More like terrific or phenomenal, something along those lines.'

'Umm.' Her fingers feathered over his scar. 'That's a nasty one. She must have had long nails.'

He grinned. 'Like hooks, they was.'

'Want to tell me about it?'

'Maybe later. It's a long boring story, and I can think of other things I'd rather do.'

'Down boy. We both have work today, and it will take me forever to get ready.'

'Ugh, work. OK, I'll go quietly.'

He slipped out of bed and dressed. When he looked around, she was sitting up in bed, the duvet pulled up to her chin. He leaned down and started to speak, but she put a finger to his lips. 'Later. It will wait.'

He nodded and left the apartment. The sun had just risen and he wanted to whistle but contented himself with an ear-wide grin and a cigarette.

Cleaning and dressing in a hurried twenty minutes, he decided to live without breakfast, and drove to work breaking most of the speed laws.

Despite his urgency, the team were already at their desks. Everyone mumbled a good morning as he went straight to the coffee. 'How was the surveillance?'

'Not productive,' said Gunther. 'The guy from St. Veit knows the area, and we moved around, but nary a sight did we see. Nothing coming in or going out.'

Alex said, 'Same for us - a long night and nothing to show for it.'

Heimo said, 'Well, it was unlikely we'd turn up anything on the first go. We'll just have to keep at it.'

They headed for morning briefing. Heimo discussed the continuing lack of progress. It was difficult to keep all the restrictions out of his remarks, but he managed.

The head of the Drugs squad had some news. 'Heimo, one of your Falkners made a buy last night.'

Heimo sat up. 'Are you sure?'

'We are. I gave my people pictures of them when you told us their history. And you were the one who said they looked like they needed something. It was the brother, Josef. We don't think he had a specific dealer in mind, but he showed up at a bar in Viktring that has a long history. I put a man in there periodically because small-time dealers use it. This guy matching Josef's description came in about midnight. He connected in five minutes, and away they go to the men's room. Three minutes later they're out and Josef leaves immediately. The dealer does mainly coke and pills. My guy was sure of the ID but didn't do anything to give himself away.'

Heimo said, 'Good news and bad news. Good he was seen, and bad he got there at all. We had the house staked out last night and no one saw him leave or come back. Something to work on, so thanks.'

When the briefing finished, they went back to the office. Heimo said, 'Did either of the St. Veit guys know of another way out of the house?'

Gunther and Alex both shook their heads. Gunther said, 'It must be at the back somewhere. We worked our way around in a kind of half-circle from one side of the house to other, and I'm sure there is no way he could have come through our area without us being aware of it.'

Heimo said, 'OK, he foxed us once, but not again. We need to go up there in daylight and poke around. Gunther, call St. Veit and see if they have someone who knows the forest areas well?'

Gunther turned away and grabbed his phone. After a few minutes' conversation, he said, 'One of their people is on the hunter's council. Going to dig up a colleague who hunts the area. Says to meet him at Krauschberg in an hour and they'll take us in.'

'Good. I need to have a small chat with Walter.'

He tapped on the door and heard 'Avanti.' He walked in and said 'Italian?'

'I read an Italian novel last night. Thought it sounded better than 'Come.' What are you doing about your escaping twin?'

Heimo described what they'd come up with. 'Gunther and I are on tonight, so we're going to do a recce and see if we can find how he got out. I doubt if they'll do it a second night running, but you never know.'

He stopped for a moment, aware he was about to take a step from which he couldn't retreat. 'There's something else.'

Walter smiled. 'I knew there would be.'

'Remember I told you about the interview with Oushan? I mentioned he'd heard Moser, or whoever it was, say the word "Andy".'

Walter nodded.

Heimo said, 'But he also mentioned seeing some initials on the man's handy. I've been thinking about them and I wondered....' He stopped. Once he started to vocalize it, it sounded absurd, too farfetched to be credible.

'And you wondered if the initials could be Franz Cervinka.'

Heimo jerked his head up. 'Jesus Christ. What now?'

'This has nothing to do with your investigation. At least nothing direct.'

Heimo grunted. 'Ever since this case started, I've been stumbling over secrets of one kind or another. I mean, I've heard of wheels within wheels, but this is ridiculous. Are those initials Cervinka's?'

Walter studied him for a minute. 'Let's back up a moment. Do you have any suspects for either murder?'

'You know I don't. Falkner was dirty as hell, and there are several possibilities, but I have no evidence pointing to anyone specific.'

'And you have several possible motives, but no idea who they fit, correct?'

Heimo nodded.

'I'll tell you this much, but you'll have to leave it there. Cervinka is part of the investigation into Moser.'

'On whose side?'

Walter shook his head. 'Heimo, don't go there. And stay away from him. I know there's bad blood, but now is not the time to pursue it.'

Heimo looked at him. 'There are so many places I can't go and so many people I can't talk to, I might as well call a halt.'

'I know you're pissed off. None of these situations is going to last forever, and when they're finished you can wade around as much as you want. While we're on the subject, why the big thing about Franz? I admit he's not the most likable man on the force, but what's with all the animosity?'

He'd never told anyone the full story, and he wasn't sure he wanted to. But maybe it was time. 'You know we were in Kosovo at the same time?'

Walter nodded.

'We were in the first contingent. Cervinka arrived a month before I did. Pristina was rough and there wasn't much of a Kosovan police force. Anyway, the big problems, other than the Serbs and the Nationalists, were drugs and people smuggling. The intelligence was just rumors, so we played it by ear, and took in whatever we could get.'

He had never forgotten that night. One of the informants Cervinka developed told him there was going to be a minor drug buy, but one of the sellers was a man they thought might be an important cog in the local crime organization. It seemed a good opportunity to catch him in the act.

'Cervinka and I decided to get to the area early, keep watch and see what happens. Sure enough, two guys show up and go into an old warehouse. Cervinka says he'll go around the back and for me to take the front. As soon as I walk in the door, the dealer is waiting and he comes at me with a knife. I turned away a little, but he opened me up on the left side. You've seen the pictures in my file.'

'Thirty-seven stitches I believe.'

'I never counted. Anyway, I got a shot off and hit the guy in the shoulder. He ran and I pulled off a couple more, but I missed. Then I started feeling woozy and ended up on the floor. I managed to radio the controller where I was, then I passed out. I woke up in the hospital in Pristina about two hours later. The doc said I'd lost a lot of blood, but the blade missed most of the vital stuff and there was no major damage.'

'And what happened to Cervinka and the bad guys?'

'Well, Cervinka came in to see me the next day. Said he hadn't seen anyone, and he never heard the shots. Two days later the dealer turns up dead with four holes in him, including mine. So I thought it was just normal drug business. Then a few weeks after I returned to duty, I caught someone at another buy, and I recognized him. He was the other guy who went into the warehouse that night. I started to pump him, and he told me they knew we were there - it was a set up. He walked straight through the building and out the other side and left the seller to ambush me.'

He remembered last night when Cristina had discovered the scar.

Walter was quiet for some time. 'So you think Cervinka tried to have you killed?'

'No, I think he was trying to eliminate the dealer, and hoped I'd shoot the guy.'

'Why?'

'Because he was involved in the trade. Either the seller was a rival, or someone wanted him out of the way. I was just the means.'

'Any evidence?'

'Not a shred.'

Walter leaned back. 'Explains a number of things. Why didn't you ever tell anyone?'

'No way to prove any of it. The seller was dead, and the second guy committed suicide in his cell.'

'Suicide?'

'Stabbed himself in the heart.'

Walter's eyebrows went up.

'I know, it stank. But there were no other witnesses, no other evidence. If I accused Cervinka, he'd just say it was a mix-up, and I was unlucky. And Pristina was not Klagenfurt. What passed for a justice system was pretty rudimentary and corrupt in the bargain.'

'Does he know you suspect all this?'

'Oh, he knows. And he hates me for it. Figures I've poisoned the well with you or somebody else, and that's why he's never been promoted.'

Walter scratched his chin. 'Well, the current situation doesn't have anything to do with history. I'm glad you told me though, it clears up a couple of points. But what I said stands. Stay away from Franz.'

### Chapter 32

He stopped at the canteen, ordered a large cappuccino, and went off in a corner to get his head around everything.

The restriction on Franz irritated him, but since he didn't want to talk to the bastard anyway, it meant very little. Not being able to close in on Moser was more of a problem. The Drugs detectives could follow the man, but they were looking for different things. And Moser was not going to shoot someone else just to make life easy. Heimo considered ignoring Walter and having a go on his own but realized it wouldn't work. He and the Druggies would trip over each other and blow the whole operation.

So what was left? The bank records might turn up solid information on money laundering or other nefarious activities, but that was Victor's end of things, and would help the Homicide team not one iota. The people at the Linz factory were probably involved, but Victor was covering that as well. And no one on the other lists could be shown to have any real motive or opportunity.

So they followed the Falkners around, three people who, by definition, could not have committed the crime. The twins were a nuisance, but the Drug squad would pick them up eventually. Thomas Falkner was a more viable proposition, but so long as he refused to talk, there was little Heimo could do. It was possible Thomas would contact someone who would provide a lead, or Victor's investigation would produce evidence that could be used as leverage. Heimo suspected Thomas knew more than he was telling, and he might have arranged the hit while he was out of the country. But the grief he'd shown had been too genuine for Heimo to realistically entertain the idea.

One of the uniformed officers came in and walked over to Heimo. 'Thought I might find you here. You've got a visitor.'

'Is it someone who looks like a murderer? Smoking gun and all?'

'No such luck, but maybe better. It's a young woman, attractive, and I think a French accent. Says she's from Interpol and has information for you.'

'Surprise, surprise. Well, difficult as it is, I suppose I must see this attractive young woman. Where is she?'

The officer sniggered. 'I put her in Interview Three.' That was the nicely appointed one with the coffee machine and the china cups and saucers.

Heimo walked down the corridor trying to remember if he'd canceled the Interpol alert on Thomas Falkner. He opened the door to see a tall young woman, power dressed in a severe black trouser suit, and holding an executive attaché case. She had shoulder length dark hair, horn-rimmed glasses, and an academic air.

She stepped forward. 'Chief Inspector Kapeller?'

Heimo smiled. Her German was good, but the accent was definitely French. He grasped her hand, which was cold and trembling. 'Yes, I am. And you are?'

'My name is Veronique Manseau.' She withdrew a plastic covered card from the pocket of her jacket and handed it to Heimo. He glanced at it, and noticed the photo looked better than the usual mug-shot pictures on ID cards. It identified the young woman, in four languages, as an Interpol Administrator.

Heimo handed the card back and gestured to the seats. 'Please sit down. Would you care for a coffee or something else to drink?'

She sat, still clutching the attaché case. 'Thank you, no. I must apologize - my German is not complete.'

Heimo sat down across from her. 'It is not a problem. I used to know a fair amount of French, but I'm out of practice.'

She nodded, and then stared at him for a moment.

He thought maybe she was having trouble with the language, so he said, 'I understand you have some information for me. Is it related to our recent requirement on a Thomas Falkner?'

'Not exactly. I saw your name on the documentation as the investigation officer. But I did not come about the request.' She went silent again.

Odd. 'So what is it?' He noticed her knuckles were white on the case.

She cleared her throat. 'Please excuse me, I am too nervous. I will try to be clear. Do you know a woman named Paulette Florian?'

Now there was a blast from the past as the radio DJs said. 'I used to, many years ago. Why?' He felt a pang as memories flooded in. 'Has something happened to her?'

The young woman shook her head. 'No, she is quite well. She is my mother.'

Heimo broke out a grin. 'That's wonderful. I have always wondered how her life turned out. I presume she mentioned my name.'

'Yes, not often, but enough so I wondered who you were. Then I saw your name on the document.'

'Well, I'm glad to meet you. Did you come to Austria on business or to find me?'

She looked at the table. 'No, I came here only to see you.'

This was becoming bizarre. 'But why? I have not seen your mother for many years.'

She placed the attaché case on the table and folded her hands on it. The trembling was pronounced. She held herself erect and said, 'Forgive me, but I do not know how to say this to be correct. My mother spoke of you sometimes, but with not many details. When I was fourteen, I found letters you had written to her. I read them - a bad thing, I know - but I realized you had loved her.'

Her hands gripped each other. 'Two years ago, my father died. When I read his will, I discovered he had adopted me.' She took a deep breath. 'I'm sorry, I do not say this well. He was a good father, and I loved him. But he was not my real father. I asked my mother, she admitted it was true. But when I asked her about my real father, she would not tell me.'

Her hands and face had gone stone white. She managed one breath, then blurted, 'I remembered the letters. I went back to my mother and she said you were my father.'

Heimo felt a jolt like he'd been hammered on the breastbone. He stared at the young woman whose face was now frozen. Everything slowed to a crawl, and sound ceased for a long while.

He must have looked terrifying because tears started to swell her eyes and she pushed back from the table.

Heimo fought for control. Thoughts and images caromed off of each other. It was though a train had thundered past leaving blurred faces imprinted on his retina.

He tried to keep his voice steady, but it came out as a bark. 'How can you be sure of this? Or how can your mother be sure? It's a bloody long time ago.'

She looked up, the tears streaking her makeup. 'I am sorry, I should not have done this. I thought....' She shook her head. 'I do not know what I thought. I go, excuse me.' And she stood up to rearrange herself.

Heimo shot to his feet. 'Wait! Just stop.' He shook his head like a bull hit with a hammer.

He held his hands out, palms down. 'I'm sorry. Please sit. Let me think about this for a moment.'

The girl seemed to shrink in on herself, but she sank slowly to the edge of the chair, eyes wide and locked on his face.

Heimo relaxed a fraction as his mind flashed back to a summer, the most beautiful summer of his life. A girl, golden light, a happiness he had never recaptured, a time that had become almost a dream.

Without being aware of it, he folded onto his own chair. The girl, whom he had forgotten in the rush of recall, sat, still frozen, her face scrunched in misery.

Heimo rubbed a hand over his mouth. 'I don't know what to say. This seems to be my time for...for unexpected news. I need to try to understand this.'

She stifled a small sob.

'Please,' he said, 'I didn't mean to jump on you. Let me go over a few details, OK?'

She wrapped her arms around herself.

'I'm sorry if this sounds like an interrogation, but I'm a policeman, and it's just the way I do things. May I ask what your birth date is?'

She opened the attaché case and handed him her passport without saying anything.

He looked at it. And his mind roamed over a period of his life he ever afterward remembered with rose-tinted nostalgia. He'd gone walkabout across Europe for a year after Army service. In central France he found a job, along with other itinerant youngsters, working the grape harvest. The girl he met and fell in love with had, over the years, faded into half-fantasy, but she never entirely disappeared.

He looked at the young woman who was still poised for flight. He searched her face for any likeness to Paulette, but too much reality had passed through his head.

He handed the passport back. It had given him nothing useful other than a date compatible with his passion. 'Thank you. What did your mother tell you about us?'

She dabbed at her eyes with a small handkerchief. 'Not very much. I believe she would not have said anything if I had not asked.'

Heimo nodded. 'Perhaps to her it was just a summer romance. For me, well...'

She shook her head, suddenly fierce. 'No, it was more. She would not keep the letters if they meant nothing. But there is much I do not understand.'

Heimo rubbed his jaw. 'Is your grandfather, your mother's father, still there?'

'No, he died about four years ago.'

'And your...stepfather. Was he from the same town?'

'Yes. He was the son of the former mayor.'

Heimo tried to be gentle. 'That might explain a few things. Your grandfather seemed to like me well enough when he hired me, although I had to be careful not to speak in German. The memories of the war were still too fresh for him. But when your mother and I...well, when we became friends, he said to me it was not acceptable. I was Austrian, no money, and no prospects.'

She listened, leaning forward with a student's intensity.

Heimo shook his head. This girl might actually be his daughter. 'Did your mother say anything else?'

'Not very much. When I asked, she said "Is it not clear from the letters?" I wanted more. She only said, "I was young and in love. What more is there?" And she would not say anything else.'

'But you decided to find me?'

'It was in my mind, but I had school and then my job. When I saw your name on the Interpol form it became important, immediate. I do not know if I make sense.'

Heimo leaned back, struck by the unreality of it all. He could not get used to the idea she might be his daughter. 'Do you think it would be...correct for me to call your mother?'

'I do not know. I did not tell her I was coming here. I think she would be upset or shocked.'

'We don't want to do that.' He thought for a few moments. 'Veronique (he got a tiny wave of something pleasant when he said the name), what are your plans? Are you staying here or going back to France?'

'I did not make plans. I...I was not sure what would happen. I will leave if you wish. There is a train connection through Zurich.'

'Do you have somewhere here to stay?'

'No, I came here from the airport.'

He rubbed his cheeks. What was he supposed to do with this. Somehow he had to know more. And then, like a lance in the back of his skull, he remembered the Huntington's.

He lurched to his feet, blind with the need to get out. 'Stay here', he mumbled, and fled into the corridor.

Staring at himself in the men's room mirror, he saw a gray-faced visage with bloodshot eyes and sagging skin. He felt as old as the image looked.

He finally washed his face, but it made no improvement.

When he walked back into the interview room, the girl was standing against the wall clutching her case in front of her.

Heimo said, 'Please, I'm sorry about that. I just needed to go out and think for a minute.'

She shook her head. 'This was a bad thing. I am sorry. I did not wish to cause problems. If I can call a taxi, I will go now.'

'You have not caused a problem - I have. Too many other things on my mind. And I don't want you to go. At least until I figure this out. Is it possible for you to stay for a day or two?'

She nodded, her face now well smudged and looking about thirteen. He was touched by her vulnerability, and he had an odd, indefinable sensation. He made a call and booked a hotel in the city.

'I will take you there and we'll get you checked in. Then I must come back. Will you be OK on your own this afternoon? I will return as soon as I can.'

The attaché case slowly dropped down to her side, and she managed a tentative smile. 'You are not angry?'

He shook his head. 'No, of course not, just confused. It will become clearer I hope.'

But he had no idea how.

### Chapter 33

Heimo took Veronique to the Arcotel in the city center. He stood for a moment in front of the lift trying to think of something to say.

'I'm sorry, I would like to be able to stay with you, but it is not possible today.'

She nodded. 'I understand. I...I need time also. And, well, perhaps I should call Mama.'

Heimo touched her arm. 'I think it would be best. She will have to know eventually. Now, do you have a mobile phone?'

They traded numbers. He said, 'I will talk to you later and we will figure out what to do.'

Her smile was hesitant, but she nodded.

He touched her arm again, for no reason he could explain.

On the way back to the office, he tried to get the kaleidoscope of situations under control, but they kept swirling, heedless of his need. Each was wrapped in questions to which he had no answers, and there was no time to analyze things. He could only swear at the gods who were wreaking havoc with his life.

He pushed everything but the murder investigation into the side pocket of his brain. It worked, but not well, as stray thoughts leaked out with metronomic regularity.

The team was at loose ends. Sigi and Alex were on the phones, but Gunther was twiddling his metaphorical thumbs. They looked up when he came in, but no one volunteered any startling new information. Heimo filled his coffee cup, went over to his desk, and sat. When he swiveled around, they were all looking at him.

'Anyone got any bright ideas?'

Blank looks and shaken heads.

'We're running out of places to go. There are links that might be worthwhile following up, but someone else is handling those. By the way, any word from the accounts people about the bank records?'

Gunther said, 'About thirty minutes ago. They have a few possibilities, but they need a little longer. Didn't say what they were.'

'Helpful. Well, let's catch up, and if nothing else happens, we'll knock off. I could use a nap before the surveillance anyway.'

They turned away, shoulders slumped, faces bleak. Two murders in a row and nothing. It was not easy to take.

Settled into a drowsy afternoon hum, they all might have been asleep when Walter's stentorian bellow caused them to jump in unison. 'Heimo, my office.'

Gunther muttered, 'Why can't he use the damn intercom?'

Heimo hauled himself to his feet, shaking the last boring policy document out of his head, and trundled down the corridor. He opened the door and Walter motioned him in.

'A report's just come in from Bad Eisenkappel. A patrol investigated a car parked in a lay-by and found a body in it. They ran the registration, and it belongs to Thomas Falkner. Halegger's on his way.' He handed Heimo a sheet with the details scribbled on it. 'Off you go.'

Heimo felt like he was in adrenaline shock. He trotted back to the squad room and found three alert faces staring at him. 'Body found in a car registered to Thomas Falkner. Alex, you're with me. Gunther, you take the Falkner office, Sigi, the house. Go.'

They scrambled, gathering equipment and making for the door in a rowdy stream. Heimo and Alex headed for one of the duty cars, slung their stuff in the back seat, and climbed in. Alex drove while Heimo called Halegger. The Forensic officer said he expected to arrive at the scene in less than five minutes. Heimo told him they were ten minutes behind and turned on the light and siren.

They moved quickly through sparse afternoon traffic until they reached the outskirts of the city. Alex pushed the speed up and they raced through towns and villages almost unimpeded. The chatter on the radio, intense when they started, died away as organization kicked in. A kilometer from the reported location, they found a police car, lights flashing, parked across the centerline of the road. Alex slowed and Heimo turned off the siren. The officer at the car bent down to Alex's open window and said, 'It's on the right about four hundred meters. We're taping off the whole lay-by, and we've blocked the road at the other end.'

Heimo nodded, then Alex skirted around the other car and steered down the remaining stretch, both of them searching the sides of the road for anything unusual. After about three hundred meters, Heimo grasped Alex's arm and said, 'Hold it.'

Alex pulled up in the middle and turned the engine off. Heimo got out and walked over to the road's shoulder. It was surfaced with gravel and overlaid with a thick coat of dust and mud. Two tire tracks were visible extending for a distance of twenty meters or so. And beside the track were three footprints.

Heimo said, 'Get one of the patrols to come down here and mark this off and tell Halegger to take casts.'

Alex grabbed the radio and it rattled to life. About four minutes later a car came up from the direction of the lay-by and two uniforms got out. Heimo showed them the area, and they began to tape it off. He looked around but saw no other indications.

The crime scene was demarcated by four police vehicles parked at various angles across the road, all with blue lights flashing. The officer on duty said, 'Inspector Halegger has just started. Do you want to go in?'

Heimo shook his head. 'We'll wait. Is the roadblock at the other end in place?'

'Yes sir, about four hundred meters up.'

'Good. Let's turn the flashers off.'

Heimo said to Alex, 'Let's take a quick look around the outside. Wherever the victim was killed, the killer still had to get him here and then get away. The tracks we saw could be his car, the killer's, or somebody random. It would be nice if there were a few more tracks around for comparison.'

They worked both sides of the road, looking for any signs a vehicle had been parked or hidden, but found nothing.

The Forensics van pulled up, and Halegger came over to the tape to give them their instructions. Then he walked over to Heimo and pulled out his phone. He located a picture on it and showed it to them. 'That look like Falkner?'

A clear image of a man's face twisted against the steering wheel, the torso slumped forward, but Heimo was in no doubt. 'It's him.'

'Looks like he was shot from the right side and the bullet went in under the arm, but I can't get close until Otto does his thing.'

'Shot by someone in the car?'

Halegger shrugged. 'Can't be certain until we move him. Here comes Wassnig.'

The pathologist's car pulled up, adding to the confusion of vehicles. Wassnig got out, extracted his case and put his sterile suit on.

'Heimo, Karl. What have you got?'

'Looks like the brother of the last one, man named Thomas Falkner. Car registration matches and Heimo's ID'd the face. Seems to have been shot.'

Wassnig nodded. 'Let's go,' and ducked under the tape held up by one of the uniforms.

Heimo went back to the car and called Gunther. 'It's Falkner. Probably shot, but in the side this time rather than the head. Any joy from the people there?'

'Very little. Klostermann's in shock, but he says Falkner hasn't been in today. Yesterday was a normal day. Falkner was here from about 0830 to 1500, then he went out. He doesn't know anything else.'

'Ask him if he's seen the twins?'

'Hang on.' There was some background murmuring. 'Says not, but he did see them in the parking area in a car on Monday late in the afternoon. Didn't come in to the office as far as he knows. Why?'

'Falkner's in a car in an isolated area. The killer had to have some method of getting away. If the twins did it, then maybe one shot him and the other followed behind. Who knows? Do you need a warrant?'

'Nope. Klostermann's cooperating. I'll check Falkner's office now.'

Heimo then called Sigi. 'We've confirmed its Thomas Falkner. Shot to death.'

'I'm at the house. Just knocked on the door, but no answer. I'm sure someone is here though, looked like a curtain moved in one of the windows upstairs.'

Heimo explained the crime scene circumstances. 'No way to tell if the twins are involved, but I don't want you to take any chances. Get backup, then see if you can roust 'em out. If they are there, take 'em back to the LKA and put them in an interview room until we get there. Call me one way or the other.'

Halegger was back at the tape. 'I've finished with the preliminaries. Follow me in.' He waited while Heimo and Alex donned their coveralls.

They walked around the edge of the lay-by for thirty meters. The car was parked by the side of the dirt track next to one of the government's rubbish bins. The pathologist squatted by the open driver's door peering inside. Halegger took them up to a point just behind the car.

Wassnig straightened up and allowed them to see the interior. Thomas Falkner was leaning forward, face turned to the left and resting on the top half of the steering wheel. He was casually dressed in a jacket and trousers, and his arms hung down into the foot well, hands almost touching the floor. The seat belt was still fastened.

The pathologist peeled his gloves off. 'Looks like he was shot in the right side, just toward the back of the armpit. There is no exit wound I can see. I think the bullet may have penetrated his heart, given the angle. He's been here awhile, maybe twelve to fifteen hours, but I'll need to do the PM to be more precise. And he was killed here. The lividity marks from the steering wheel indicate he's been in this position since death occurred.'

Heimo said, 'Hands on the wheel, shot, then slumps forward?'

'That would be my guess.'

'OK, thanks Otto.'

Halegger said, 'I need to get my guys in here. By the way, the keys are in the ignition and the engine was switched off.'

Heimo nodded and they followed the doctor out of the area using the same path. As soon as they were under the tape, two forensics analysts with large cases entered. Heimo and Alex unsuited. Heimo's phone buzzed and he thumbed it.

Sigi said, 'Caught Elinor going out the back door. Says she didn't hear me knock, which is bullshit. Josef doesn't seem to be here, but I haven't made a search yet.'

Heimo considered for a moment. 'Wait until the St. Veit people get there, then do your search. One of them can take the sister into Klagenfurt. We're about done, so we should be back in thirty minutes.'

Alex was talking on his own phone. When he finished, he said, 'Gunther. Hasn't found anything in Falkner's office, and there's no appointment to account for the time he's been gone.'

'OK, Sigi's picked up the sister, but no sign of the brother. Put the word out on him and ask Martina to make copies of his photo for circulation. And get someone to check rental car agencies. He must have wheels.'

Alex nodded and got back on the phone. Heimo wandered back down the road. When he was out of earshot, he called Victor.

'Hello young man. How's it going?'

'Not sure. We've just found Thomas Falkner's body. Shot to death, although the MO is different.'

'Damn.' Victor was quiet for a moment. 'Right, I don't think we can wait. We'll hit the Linz operation as soon as possible. By the way, our accountants confirmed at least some of the money laundering was going through the bank accounts you supplied. Most of them were small-to-medium transactions, but they were regular. And quite a few went through the personal accounts.'

'Would the banker have known?'

'Might have. The pattern is not hard to spot, but it would depend on whether someone was looking for it. Some do and some don't, although they are all supposed to be doing it now.'

'OK, I'll check it out. Do you want me to pull the manager in?'

'Don't know. I'll call you back.'

Heimo clicked off and walked back. Alex, phone still glued to one ear, was writing on a clipboard. 'Get the lists over to the LKA as soon as possible please. Thanks.'

He said, 'I told the duty officer to get on to the car rental people and let us know if they find anything. It occurred to me he might be using an alias or a phony license, so I told him to have them send everything for the past 48 hours over the office.'

'Good, let's go back and see if we can make something happen.'

### Chapter 34

By the time they reached the LKA, Heimo had an approach mapped out. It depended on speed and cooperation from quite a few people, but he hoped it would move things forward. He went to Walter's office, but had to hang around for a few minutes while his boss finished another conversation.

When he was free, Heimo went in. He ran through the details of Falkner's death. 'The key point is how did the killer get away? He might have walked which doesn't seem likely given the distance from the nearest village. Or he was picked up by someone waiting for him, an accomplice. No way to tell if Falkner met him there or they were already together.'

'Any other tracks in the lay-by?'

'Yes, but we'll have to wait for Karl to finish. There was a fresh track on the side of the road close to the scene, but it might be anything. The only other possibility is the murderer stashed his own car somewhere not too far away, walked back, did the deed, then returned to his car. All down to Karl at this point.'

'What's your plan?'

'I called Victor. He'll raid the plant at Linz, hopefully today, and that may shake something out. Some of the money laundering was going through the local bank accounts. If it gets OK'd, I'll pull the banker in and squeeze him. And we've got Falkner's sister. The brother is nowhere to be seen, so we've put the word out. I've asked Martina to make copies of his photo to circulate, but I'll only do it if we don't pick him up soon. I may need another warrant to do the Falkner house again.'

'Sounds like you're going to throw everything up in the air and hope the killer falls out of the chaff.'

Heimo shook his head. 'Better chance of good forensics this time. This killing seems to be much less well planned than the other two. By the way, time of death was sometime late last night. It would help if Moser was accounted for.'

'I'll check that one. When's the autopsy?'

'Not sure, but Wassnig knows I need it fast. Can you also talk with the Drugs people? I need to find out if Josef made another buy in the last thirty-six hours, and, if so, how close they can pinpoint the time.'

Walter's eyebrows went up. 'You think the brother and sister might have done it?'

'No idea, but there's no love lost between them, and it would account for getting the killer away from the scene.'

'Right, you see the sister and I'll find out about Moser.'

Heimo picked up Sigi on the way to the interrogation room.

'How do you want to play it?' she said.

'What kind of a mood was she in?'

'Pretty foul. Cussed us up one side and down the other. She looks a mess too. Probably needs a fix or a drink.'

'How did she take it when you told her about Thomas?'

Sigi shook her head. 'Very odd. She gave me a filthy look but didn't say anything. Either she knew already or she didn't believe me.'

'Let's go with the idea she and her brother did it and see what happens.'

They heard her before they saw her. She was banging on the door and demanding to be let out. The custody officer scowled. 'I wish you'd find someplace else to put her. She's driving me batty.'

Heimo grinned. 'Do my best.'

He waited for a moment for the noise to stop, then shoved the door open hard. He didn't quite catch Elinor Falkner, but he came close.

She backed into the center of the room, fists on hips. 'About bloody time. What the hell do you think you're doing, locking me up in here? I want my lawyer and right bloody now!'

Heimo strode up to her, bent down until his face was centimeters from hers and growled, 'Shut up and sit down.' And when she didn't, he roared, 'Now!'

She backed up to the chair and sat, muttering 'Bastard.'

Heimo and Sigi sat on the other side. Heimo leaned forward. His voice was flat, and the words came like bullets.

'Where's Josef?'

'How should I know?'

'When did you see him last?'

'I don't know. This morning, last night.'

'Which was it? And cut the crap.'

She glared. 'This morning, then. What of it?'

'Where were you both last night?'

'In that mausoleum, where else?'

'Did either of you go out?'

Her eyes narrowed and her lipless mouth curved down. 'Why?'

'Answer the question.'

She stared at the ceiling. 'We went nowhere.'

Heimo moved his hand and Sigi took over. 'I see you're all broken up over the death of your brother.'

Elinor flared. 'He's a bastard. Why should I care?'

'Why do you hate him so much?'

'None of your business.'

'Actually, it is. At the moment, you have no alibi for the time of Thomas's death. And you've said in so many words you hated both Gerhard and Thomas. Puts you right in the frame for Thomas's murder. And maybe you arranged for someone to kill Gerhard. So, motive and opportunity. We could probably charge you right now.'

Elinor paled. 'You bitch. You've got no proof of anything. You're just trying to get at me. Well, it won't work.'

Heimo picked it up. 'Oh, it will. You and Josef have long, lovely criminal records. We know you bought drugs the other night. You hated your brothers. We can paint you so black, any jury in the country would convict you.' He leaned forward again. 'I don't have time for this. Last chance - where's Josef?'

Elinor began to wilt and collapse in on herself. Her eyes watered although it would be a stretch to call it tears. 'I don't know.' Her voice was a whisper. 'He went out last night to get some...some things. We don't have any money, or not much. Thomas won't...wouldn't give us any. But Josef was back by nine. He wouldn't kill Thomas. How could he? He's got no gun, and anyway he's afraid of them.'

'Who said Thomas was shot?'

By now she'd pulled her knees up and was staring at the floor. 'I...I just thought it was the same as Gerhard. Wasn't it?'

'And where is Josef today?'

'I told you, I don't know. We drank a lot last night. I didn't wake up until ten or so. Josef was gone. But he couldn't have done it.'

'Is he an addict?'

She looked down at her hands in her lap and nodded.

'To what?'

'Snow. Cocaine.'

'That what he bought the other night?'

She nodded again.

'Would he go back to the same dealer?'

'Probably. We don't know anyone here anymore.' Her voice had reduced to a little girl's whine.

'How did you get a car?'

'It's Krauthammer's.'

'The gardener?'

'Yes.'

Heimo considered for a moment. The twins could have killed their brother. They had the opportunity since they had a vehicle, and it fitted the scenario he'd outlined to Walter. But motive was difficult. They hated Thomas, but he controlled the money. And where would they get a gun?

There seemed little point in holding her except for one thing. If someone was trying to eliminate all the Falkners, she might be next on the list.

'We're holding you for twenty-four hours, or until we find your brother.'

Elinor erupted. 'I don't want to stay in this damned place. I want to go home. You've got no right.'

'Of course we do.'

He signaled the custody officer. When the door opened, Heimo said, 'Back to you, I'm afraid. If we can find her brother, we'll take her off your hands.' The officer nodded but looked less than thrilled.

As they walked back, Heimo said, 'We need to find Josef fast. I'm beginning to wonder if someone's trying to take out the whole family.'

Sigi shook her head. 'It looks that way, but I can't see anyone taking so much trouble over her and her junkie brother. And I'll tell you something for nothing - I wouldn't turn my back on her for a minute.'

Heimo shrugged. 'You're not buying the little-girl-scared act, then?'

'No way. I think she's a puppet master, and her bony fingers are up Josef's backside. He doesn't look like he could shit without someone giving him permission.'

He needed to bring Cristina up to date, so he told Sigi where he'd be if anything came up.

When he called Cristina and told her what had happened, she'd already heard. The grapevine - ten times faster than any computer. She said she was returning from court and would meet him at her office.

They arrived at the door at the same time, coming from opposite directions. She unlocked it and led the way in, dropping a huge stack of files on her desk. 'One of the joys of being a lawyer. Always tons of paper to schlepp around.'

When she turned, he put his arms around her.

'Is this a bust, officer?'

'You better believe it.' He pressed his mouth to hers, reveling again her softness. When he pulled back, she had gone quite pink. 'I think "wow" is the correct term.'

She smiled up at him. 'We ought to find a better one, but it will have to do for now.'

She leaned back against her desk, both hands resting on his chest. 'So Thomas Falkner is dead.'

Heimo nodded and stepped back, holding her hands. 'The MO is a little different, but it's too much of a coincidence to believe it's another killer.' He gave her a rundown of what they'd found at the scene, and the pickup of Elinor Falkner.

'I'm keeping her in custody for the moment. I can't see how they could have anything to do with the other killings, but they're nasty enough if they thought they could get away with it.'

'Any substantial leads?'

'No. I'm hoping for good forensic on this one, but nothing new has opened up. We've pulled the bank records and there was definitely money being laundered through the accounts. The banker has been odd about the records, so he probably was aware of it, if not actually involved. I haven't been able to get hold of him for a few days. It's a guy named Martin Paulus, and he's sort of dancing around everything.'

Her hands jerked out of his, and her mouth opened.

Heimo was startled. 'What? Do you know him?'

'You're wrong. He is not involved.'

He was stunned. 'I don't understand. What are you talking about?'

She stood ramrod straight, arms rigid at her sides. She was having trouble breathing, and her lips trembled. 'He's my brother. He is a professional man and could have nothing to do with this.'

'Your brother?' He sounded and felt stupid. 'But your name is...'

'Neuroth is my married name.'

'Married?' Heimo was struggling.

'I'm divorced. Long ago. But forget about my brother. He cannot be involved in this case.'

Heimo shook his head several times. 'I'm sorry, I had no idea. He may not be involved, but the Falkners banked with him. I've got the records.'

Her face remained frozen. 'That's possible.'

They stared at each other for moments. Then both tried to speak at once. Heimo gestured at her.

She said, 'You caught me off guard, but I know my brother, and he would not be a party to anything illegal.'

Heimo searched her eyes. Time to move carefully. 'I've no evidence he was directly involved. He just acted odd when I told him I needed the records. But the accountants confirmed money was being laundered through the Falkner business and personal accounts. I suppose it could happen without your brother knowing it.'

She nodded. 'I'm sure that's the case, although it might still be trouble for Martin. There are new laws about this, and the banks are supposed to be monitoring it.'

The tension leached slowly away.

Heimo said, 'I don't want this to be a problem for us.' He watched her face.

She was watching his. 'Nor do I.'

'You know I have to go where the evidence leads.'

'Of course. I also know you haven't been getting anywhere with these cases. I don't want you to latch onto my brother because he seems to be in the right place.'

'What do I do?'

Her face softened. 'I'm sorry, I'm not being fair. But...he's family. We were close as children. And I just cannot believe he's involved.'

'Do you want me to check with you before I do anything?'

'I want to say yes, but that would compromise both of us. I should withdraw. It's a conflict of interest.'

He thought for a few moments. 'Might be premature. As I say, there's no direct evidence. Let me suggest something. It is not strictly within the rules, but I don't see the harm. Speak to your brother. I've been told he's ill, so it's reasonable for you to enquire about him. Don't ask him about the case or the bank or anything. Just talk and see how he is.'

'And report to you?'

'No. It wouldn't make difference one way or the other. But if you talk to him, it might make things clearer in your own mind. What it leads to is between the two of you.'

Her head slumped and he wanted to go to her but held back. She rubbed her forehead. After a moment, she looked up. Her face was tired and pale. 'I'll think about it.'

His throat was full. He had seldom felt more desolate, less able to do anything to solve a problem. Finally, he took a step forward, ready to be rebuffed.

She did nothing, neither welcoming him nor holding him at bay. He put his arms around her and she, after a moment, circled his waist. But their connection was lost; they were strangers.

### Chapter 35

By the time he reached his car, Heimo wanted to pound his head on a wall. Desperation flooded through him, and he wondered what else could go wrong. And he didn't know how to stop or change any of it.

He could ignore Martin Paulus and leave the money situation to Victor. If there was anything connecting the banker to laundering, Heimo wouldn't need to be a part of it. But he knew it would never work. He'd been the one to bring the matter up. Whatever happened, Cristina would not forget. Only if Paulus was completely innocent would Heimo be off the hook, and even then the damage might be irreparable.

And maybe a daughter. What the hell was he supposed to do about that? What if he had Huntington's disease? Would he have passed it on? Should he tell her? Should he demand a paternity test? Or just immigrate to New Guinea and duck out from under a life that was collapsing into chaos.

He leaned back, a sad grin hovering around his mouth. Maybe this was as bad as it could get, barring collision with an asteroid. A few times in the past, he'd been in a position where there was no choice except to put his head down and bull through. This was obviously another one.

His phone buzzed - Gunther. 'Wassnig's got Falkner on the table. Hasn't finished yet, but it's pretty much what we thought. Shot in the right side, bullet penetrated almost completely through the body. Doc found the slug under the skin on the left side, and it's in good condition. Ballistics is working on it now. Time of death between ten and twelve last night. But he'd had a meal not more than two hours prior to death, we think from a restaurant. Might help if we can find it.'

'I'm on my way. Get Alex and Sigi started on the restaurant.'

Trying to find out where Falkner might have eaten was a huge job given the number of restaurants and gasthauses in the local area. They knew the type of food which narrowed it down, but it was going to take a long time unless they got lucky.

As Heimo walked into the office, Gunther's phone chimed. He spoke for a moment, then looked at Heimo. 'Guy on surveillance at the Falkner house. Josef's turned up.'

'Tell them to bring him in.'

Heimo went to Walter's office, tapped on the door and heard, 'Come.'

'No "Avanti"?'

'I keep forgetting. What have you got?'

Heimo talked through the details provided by the pathologist. 'The restaurant may or may not give us anything, but at least it's a lead.'

'Maybe I can help. The people watching Moser were on him all night. They tell me they're sure he couldn't have done it. He was out for several hours, but in the company of Mehringer part of the evening and with others later. They can account for all the relevant time.'

It was negative information, but at least it took one suspect out of the frame. 'If ballistics matches the slug from Thomas to the one from Gerhard, that would probably eliminate him completely. By the way, Josef Falkner turned up at the house. The St Veit guys are bringing him in. I still don't think he's a strong candidate for the killing, but I need to know what he's been doing. I'm also wondering if someone is trying to kill all the Falkners.'

Walter leaned back. 'Victor called. The raid on the Linz operation kicked off about twenty minutes ago. Might turn up something on the murders, but it's a long shot.'

'Well, hope springs eternal, as they say. I shall have a word with Master Josef, which I am not looking forward to.'

He trudged back to the office, the word "break" pounding through his thoughts. Something had to break somewhere.

Gunther said, 'ETA on Josef is four minutes. Want to do the two of them together?'

'No, let's take him first. Unless we get something unexpected, we'll have to cut them both loose. Main thing I'm interested in is whether he made a buy last night. If he did, and we can find the seller, it might take him out of the picture. Oh, and ask the St. Veit people to stay on the surveillance for two more nights, then we'll pull them off if nothing happens.'

The custody officer was bringing Josef to the interview room when they got there. The man looked like a combination of dandy and drunkard. His clothes, although originally expensive, were grimy and disheveled. Blotches marked his pale skin, and the eyes had a yellowish tinge. He shuffled along, seeming little interested in the proceedings.

The custody inspector sat him in a chair and rolled his eyes for Heimo's benefit. 'He gave the St. Veit guys a hard time, so he got a tap on the head. I'll get the doc to look at him when you're finished.'

Heimo and Gunther regarded Falkner. It was difficult to believe the specimen before them could have planned and carried out the cold-blooded murder of his own brother. But both men knew better than to take impressions as facts.

Heimo said, 'Where have you been?'

The man raised his slumped head, weariness sagging his cheeks. 'Around.'

'Around where?'

'Don't know, really?'

'Did you score some coke?'

Josef's eyes shifted a fraction. 'No, why would I do that?'

'Because you're a junkie, and you look like you need a hit. Tell you what, we'll do a blood test that will show us how much shit you've got in your veins, and we can figure out how long it's been since your last jolt. Of course, the lab boys are overworked. Might take them a couple of days to get the results. But it's not a problem. You can stay here as our guest.'

That registered. Josef shuddered and his hands began to tremble. 'Bastard,' he muttered.

'You're right, and I'll get uglier by the minute until you tell me where you were and what you were doing.'

Josef remained silent, but tears started to leak down his cheeks.

'Your sister is also staying with us. We had a nice conversation earlier. We're starting to believe you and Elinor killed Thomas. Your own brother. Would you like to confess now?'

'What!' Falkner tried to stand up, knocking his chair over.

Gunther and Heimo were around the table fast and grabbed his arms. Heimo heard the custody officer running down the corridor and he called out, 'It's OK, just a little excitement.'

Gunther replaced the chair and Heimo jammed the distraught man into it before returning to his own seat. Gunther remained standing, hovering over Josef and flexing his hands like a man preparing for a strangling.

'It's true - your brother is dead. Shot to death last night.'

The color leaked from Josef's face, and his body seemed to collapse like an accordion with a slow leak.

Heimo gave him no time to collect himself. 'Let's get one thing straight. We know all about you and your sister. You've got records with half the police forces in Europe. Gerhard kept you out of most of the serious stuff, but he's not here anymore. And you made it clear you hated both him and Thomas. Neither of you has any alibi for last night. We'll find the gun, and your prints will be on it, and that's all the Prosecutor needs to put you away for thirty or forty years.'

Josef started to sob, slumped shoulders heaving. 'We didn't do anything. Nothing. It's not my fault.'

Heimo let him cry for a minute. 'Tell me where you were last night.'

Josef seized the lifeline. 'I...I went looking for coke. I have to have it, or I get sick. You have to understand. That filthy jail in Geneva. Four sodding days.'

'So you went out to make a buy, and you found someone. Who and where?'

'I can't...can't remember exactly.'

'Quit screwing around. You know where you went and who you got the stuff from, because you'll need to go back and get more later, won't you? Now cough it up.'

Josef glanced up at Gunther who took a step forward. Josef whimpered and tried to move away. 'Velden, it was Velden. We used to get stuff there a long time ago, so I went back. I asked a man I know at a shop, and he told me where to go.'

'And where was it?'

'Down...down by the lakefront. It's around the hotel somewhere. It was dark.'

'And how did you find your connection?'

'He found me. Just came up and said I looked like I was having trouble. Said he had some medicine would fix everything.'

'How much did you buy?'

'Fifty Euros.'

'Where'd you get the money? You had nothing when you got here the other day.'

'Thomas...Thomas gave me a little.'

'You mean you stole it. I don't think he'd give you anything.'

Josef stared at the table.

'What did this guy look like, this man who gave you the medicine?'

'He was just a guy. I didn't look at him too close. They don't like it if you do that.'

'What time was this?'

'I don't know. Eight o'clock, nine o'clock maybe.'

'And where were you the rest of the night?'

'An old boathouse we used to own. Maybe still do. I...I did all of it.'

'All of it? You mean you took the whole €50 worth in one go?'

Josef got a sly look on his face, like an imbecile who thinks he's clever. 'No, I was real careful. I made it last all night. Sleep a little, take a little. It was wonderful.'

Heimo looked at Gunther who shrugged.

'Right. You go back to a cell for a while and we'll decide what to do with you.'

Josef grabbed the edge of the table. 'I didn't kill Thomas. I hated him, maybe I wanted to, but I didn't do it.'

'We'll see.' He knocked on the door and the custody officer came down. 'Into a cell with this customer, if you please.'

There was little likelihood Josef Falkner had killed his brother. How would he have managed to get Thomas to the lay-by, how would he have escaped, where was the gun, etcetera? But, until they found the dealer, Heimo couldn't eliminate him.

Like the answer to a prayer, Karl Halegger walked into the Homicide office grinning. 'Got something Heimo.'

'Hurrah, buy this man a beer.'

Karl waved off the offer and sat down. 'You know those tracks by the side of road just north of the lay-by? They were good clear prints, and we took a cast. Turns out they were made by tires that have only been on the market for about three months. One of my chaps is calling all the dealers now to find out if they've sold any, and if so to whom. We might get lucky.'

'How? They could have sold hundreds of the bloody things.'

'Don't think so. These are special tires like those on a big four-wheel drive, or a truck. And they run about €350 each. So I doubt if anyone has sold many of them.'

'Fantastic. Anything else?'

'About five hundred meters south of the lay-by, there's a small entrance into the forest. You know the kind, people pull their cars in to go mushroom picking or walk the dog. Anyway, this one goes in about twenty meters then turns right. You can't see it from the main road, but we found enough tread indications to match with the other. That's where your killer left his car. And these tread marks are probably a match with the marks we found up by Gerhard Falkner.'

'Probably?'

Halegger nodded. 'I told you the first sample was small. I think they match, but legally it would be a stretch. If you find the car, I'll be able to take full impressions and match all three.'

'Better and better. And on a small piece of paper in your pocket, you have the name, address and phone number of this guy.'

Halegger snickered. 'Next week maybe. Last, but not least, my ballistics guru is certain the bullets from both Falkner homicides are from the same gun. It's an informed guess, because the first one was too damaged to give us the full legal requirement. But if you find the gun, like the tires, we can get a positive match.'

'Just when I thought you were going to tell me you had the gun. Anything else?'

'Not at the moment. There was nothing in the car to help. We think the shooter sat in the passenger seat, and there's powder residue on the seat back confirming where the gun was fired, but it doesn't help much. No fibers we can't identify, although we're still going over the car. The footprints you saw by the tire tracks are beyond any identification. They were just depressions in the sludge.'

'Anything in Falkner's pockets?'

'The usual. Change, a penknife, wallet with credit cards and about €50 in cash.' He pulled out a plastic envelope. 'These are the credit cards and bank card. We're still working on the wallet. There was a stain on the outer cover we couldn't identify, but I doubt if it's of any great interest.' He got up. 'But, as always, I will fly here on gossamer wings if we get anything.'

Gunther laughed. 'I'll keep my camera ready.'

### Chapter 36

He was dragging, hollow with fatigue. The day had been overfull and nonstop. When he got back to the office, the squad was busy, but he realized they were marking time. And he was not going to mention Paulus, not until the dust had settled. He considered telling them about Linz, but there was no point unless Victor turned up a murderer.

'Anybody have anything significant?'

A chorus of heads shaking. 'Let's knock it off for today. Alex, ask Karl to call me if they get a hit on the tires.'

Then he stopped and looked at Gunther. 'The St. Veit surveillance - I completely forgot.'

Gunther grinned. 'You're covered. Told them to forget it for tonight and we'd let them know about tomorrow.'

Heimo muttered, 'Thanks,' and grabbed his jacket. He wanted out of it, all of it. He went out to the car and called Veronique. She answered on the first ring and he knew she must have been staying by the phone.

'Veronique, it's Heimo.' He was quite a way from calling himself her father. 'Would it be OK if I picked you up about six-thirty? I thought it might be good to go out for dinner somewhere. We can talk.'

'It sounds fine. Should I dress?'

'Whatever makes you comfortable. I'm just wearing a...in English it is a blazer. But casual.'

'Thank you. I will be ready.'

He drove back to the flat, letting the complexity and doubts and fears float through his mind without any attempt to filter or solve or control. Somewhere along the way, events had taken charge. They were driving him, and he seemed to be struggling to catch moonbeams. When he separated each thread, he could think of a method to deal with it, but when he considered all of them together they tangled into an unruly mess. He gave it up and thought about Cristina. A visceral fear of loss constricted his heart.

He stood in the shower for a long time and emerged more relaxed, at least physically. Dressing with care and taking a while to decide on the best combination of things amused him. This was not quite a first date.

He drew up in front of the hotel to find Veronique already waiting. She was dressed in something blue and summery that made her look younger. Heimo approved.

He took her up to Kleinberg. The maître'd was lighting the magnificent wrought-iron candelabras on the terrace. He climbed down the stepladder and came over to Heimo.

'Good to see you Chief Inspector. A table next to the balustrade?'

'Please.'

He seated them and inquired about drinks.

Heimo said, 'Wine?, and Veronique nodded.

The maître'd flourished a leather-covered list like a magician producing a bouquet of flowers. 'May I suggest the Gruner Veltleiner from Burgenland,' he said, pointing to one of the listings.

Heimo agreed. 'A nice Austrian white. Although I don't know how it compares with a French Sauvignon.'

Veronique smiled as the maître'd rushed away. 'You sound as though you know about wines.'

'Enough to get into trouble. I usually let the staff recommend something. Do they still drink a lot of wine in France?'

'I do not think it is as much now. Mama says when she was young wine was served with everything except breakfast.'

Heimo nodded. 'True. Mostly red and lovely stuff.'

They fell silent. He had questions but couldn't find words that were less than awkward. She looked first down at the table, then over the city where a few lights were beginning to come on, then back to the table.

The maître'd returned with the wine and made a production of the uncorking. He trickled a small amount into Heimo's glass, then hovered, expectant.

Heimo swirled the pale liquid, breathed in the bouquet, and took a small mouthful. Despite the technique, all he could tell was it tasted nice. He had never been served a "corked" wine and had no idea what it might be like. He nodded. 'Excellent.'

The man beamed and poured for both. Then he took a sheaf of menus from a nearby table. 'Would you prefer German or English?'

Heimo said, 'English please.' He translated for Veronique. 'They don't do French translations in many places.'

'It is the same in France if you need something in German. Rather silly I think.'

He went through the card and explained the Austrian dishes to her. They made their selections, and the maître'd popped up to take the orders, then vanished.

They were the first diners of the evening. It was beautiful on the terrace and the candelabras started to pay their way. Heimo and Veronique looked out over the city for a while and passed trite remarks about the view.

Finally Heimo said, 'So, please tell me about your mother. How is she getting on?'

Veronique smiled, apparently grateful he had opened a real conversation. 'She is well. Our house is large, and since Papa...my stepfather died, she rents some of the rooms during the summer. A bed-and-breakfast I think it is called.'

Heimo found himself feeling parental. 'Call him Papa if it's easier.'

She shook her head. 'I never thought it would be so hard. I want to talk, but I do not know where to start. Or how to say things.'

Heimo nodded. 'You could tell me about your childhood, your schooling, things like that, and I can ask questions. I will do the same.'

She smiled and once again looked about fourteen. She launched into a recital of her upbringing which sounded typical of the time and place. 'I enjoyed school. I wanted to go to university, but Papa was against it. He said it was a waste for a girl. I would only get married and the education would do no good. So I went to work at Interpol, and I enjoy it very much.'

'And is there a young man?'

She blushed. 'There was until about two months ago. But he has a job in China for three years. I did not want to go, so it was finished. Now you, please. You must have an exciting life as a policeman.'

Heimo didn't see it that way, but he didn't want to disillusion her, especially if he really was her father. So he gave her the brief, stripped-down version, implying he mostly arrested drunks and handed out traffic tickets.

'But you are in Homicide, yes? I think you are being modest. You must have some excitement.'

'I know that's how it appears on the television shows. But police work is about going through details. We usually know who the criminal is within a few days. But it takes a lot of time to build a case so we have a reasonable chance of a conviction.'

The waiter appeared with their meals and topped up the wine glasses. He held up the empty bottle with an interrogative look. Heimo nodded.

They ate in silence. She seemed to like the food, and her appetite had not suffered. When they finished, he enquired about desert.

She shook her head. 'Thank you, but no. I am filled. The food is very good.'

'As good as France?'

'As a Frenchwoman I should say no. But really, it was excellent.'

The table was cleared, and they were left with full bellies and a wine bottle.

Heimo said, 'Do you think it would be alright to talk about you and me?'

She nodded. 'Please. I want there to be something...' She paused. 'I am stupid. I do not know how to say it in English.'

'It's all right, I understand. Let me start. Obviously, I was very surprised to hear you say you are my daughter, and I apologize if I was not easy. Now I have had a little time to think about the idea, it is...more comfortable? Does that make sense?'

She nodded again. 'It was the same with me when I found out. At first, the world seems to be crazy, then after a while I began to accept it. But do you think it is true? I have only Mama's word you are my father. It could be someone else, someone she does not wish to remember.'

Heimo had precisely the same thought. 'Your mother was, and I imagine still is, a strong woman. If it was someone she did not want to talk about, I think she would have said that.'

'Yes, Mama does not suffer from lack of confidence.'

'I don't know if this makes any difference, but I loved your mother. We were young, I had no money or career, the usual things. But what we had was real. To me at least.'

She put one hand on the table, not quite touching his. 'I think, because I read your letters, it is what I expected. Did you ever marry?'

'No. Never even came close. Police work is not very good for marriage, and many of my colleagues divorce. Most girls do not want that life.'

'I have heard this at Interpol. I was surprised it would be a problem now with so many people having unusual jobs and careers.'

Heimo shrugged. 'Some manage it. My number two has been married for sixteen years and has four children. It is a great family, but they are the exception. It is luck more than anything. Did your mother and stepfather have a good marriage?'

She looked rather solemn. 'I don't know. It is hard for a child to be objective about parents. I think they were happy. Papa...my stepfather, was a traditional man who wanted to keep the old ways. He made the decisions, and he was in charge. My mother did not always accept that, but they stayed together.'

'It is common in Austria also, particularly in the countryside. Very patriarchal.'

'And your family?'

'My father is still living. My mother died when I was young. I have one brother named Hugo. He is married with two little girls and has been working in Linz for some years.'

Heimo stretched his neck and flexed his back, the sudden remembrance of family disease returning and pricking him like a needle. He stared into the distance for a moment, then pushed it away. If Veronique noticed, she said nothing.

'What do you want to do with your life, or do you know yet?' he asked.

'I have not made any strong decisions. Now I am happy in my job, and I make enough money, so it seems nothing is urgent. I know at some time I will have to decide, but it does not seem important now.'

Heimo smiled. 'You have heard this before, I'm sure, but it happens faster than you think. You wake up one morning and it is ten years later. Sorry, I sound like a father, don't I?'

'It is OK. I like it.'

'So how do you want us to go on?'

She was pensive, eyes narrowed, lips pursed. 'I have thought about this, and I make a suggestion. But it is only a suggestion, OK?'

'Of course.'

'It might be better if we are sure about this. If we know you are my father, then there is no doubt. If you are not, then nothing else happens, yes? So maybe it would be an idea to have a DNA test done.'

He found himself hoping this intelligent young woman was his daughter. 'It's a good idea, but perhaps easier for me than for you. If I am not your father, then nothing changes for me. But for you...well, what your mother told you would be a lie, and then you would be back to the beginning and not knowing. It is a risk, and I would not like you to be hurt. I will accept what your mother said if you do not want to take the chance.'

She smiled. Her voice was soft. 'I would like you to be my papa. And I believe Mama has told me the truth. But I have learned things change, so maybe it is better to be sure.'

Heimo sighed. He wanted the test not only as proof of paternity, but also to find out about the Huntington's. And if he rigged it correctly, she need never know about the disease, at least not for a long time. 'Well, tomorrow we make some plans about how to do things. And for tonight, I had better take you back to the hotel.'

He paid the bill, and they walked down to the car, she holding his arm and he feeling something he had never felt before. At the hotel, he opened the car door for her, and when she stepped out, he held her shoulders and kissed her on the forehead. 'Sleep well, and I will call you in the morning.'

She stretched up and kissed his cheek. 'Good night Papa.'

On top of the world, if only for a moment, was not a bad place to be.

### Chapter 37

Heimo, Gunther and Sigi huddled over coffee in the canteen. Heimo said, 'We've got nothing to hold them on, so unless you can come up with an objection, we have to turn them loose.'

Gunther shrugged.

Sigi said, 'Where's that car they were using? They give it back to the gardener?'

Heimo said, 'Don't know. Why?'

'Just wondering what new trouble they'll find.'

Gunther said, 'Can't get into much - no money. Unless they managed to nick some from Thomas before he bought it.'

'They might get the whole business once the will's sorted out.'

Heimo shook his head. 'Thomas probably rigged it the same as Gerhard - the twins get nothing. Probably all goes to the Rosenheim fund. So sooner or later Josef will be desperate for a fix and they'll try something stupid. I'll let the Druggies know. Sigi, would you tell the custody officer to release them on my authority? He can send them home in a patrol car.'

Morning briefing yielded no helpful information from the other divisions.

The team returned to the office and the routine business of sweeping up data and putting bits in the appropriate bins.

Heimo called the St Veit station. The chief was a former colleague. 'Hello, Werner, its Heimo. Wanted to let you know we've discharged the Falkner twins. Josef Falkner is a junkie - mostly coke we think - and the sister is bad news. They don't have much money, so they might try something stupid before long. Sorry to dump it on you, but I've nothing to hold them on.'

'Morning Heimo. Thanks, I think. Got something for you. We had a report of a car parked up in the forest not far from the Falkner house. It's registered to a man named Krauthammer who works for the Falkners. One of my chaps checked and confirmed he'd lent it to them, but he doesn't know what it's doing in the woods.'

'We reckon they've got a secret way out the back of the house. They sneak out and get to the car, and we don't see or hear anything.'

'Do you want us on surveillance tonight?'

'Thanks, but no. Now we know where their bolt hole is, we should be able to cover it. And I'll brief the Drugs squad. If either of them tries to make a buy and we catch them, they'd be out of our hair for a while.'

When he rang off, he briefed the team. 'We have to decide if it's worth it to keep an eye on those two. I still can't see them as the killers, because it's impossible to fit them into what we know. Any opinions?'

Gunther said, 'Problem is, they're unpredictable. Never sure what they might do.'

Heimo was restless. 'I'll see if Karl's got anything.'

At the Forensic Lab, he found Halegger crouched over a microscope while a technician watched him. Karl straightened up after a moment and said, 'Looks like it. Better call Innsbruck.'

He turned. 'Morning Heimo. No answer yet on the tires. We've talked to the manufacturer, and he's emailing us a list of all the distributors in Austria. Once we get that, it ought to go faster because not many people have sold this model.' He stopped for a moment. 'Even if we narrow it down, you realize I've got nothing to connect the tire with the crime scene other than proximity.'

Heimo nodded. 'Understood. What would be almost as good is a link between the tire and someone we're already looking at, or who has a direct tie-in with the Falkners. That would give us a focus.'

'OK, we'll stay on it. Call you as soon as we get anything.'

Heimo strolled out to the parking area and called Victor. 'Good morning. Anything from the raid that might interest me?'

'Nothing specific. We're sure the plant was the main conduit for the illegal arms. And the financial stuff goes through the bank in Klagenfurt. I can give you a few account numbers to look into. We've arrested the manager and the foreman. The foreman tried to make it to Hungary, but border control stopped him, so I think we've got him cold. The manager is claiming he knows nothing about any of it, but it's early in the game.'

He passed the suspect account details to Heimo. They made a good excuse to talk to Paulus. The big question was, should he tell Cristina or not? He decided not and was honest enough to admit it was sheer cowardice. Maybe he could work this out without involving her. If Paulus was guilty of something, the law would take its course, regardless of what either of them wanted. If he was innocent, Cristina would understand, and no harm done. It was a good rationalization, one of his best, but useless at fooling himself.

He called the bank and was put through to the assistant manager who started apologizing again.

'However,' he said, 'I am happy to tell you Mr. Paulus will be in this afternoon, and you should be able to see him. Would you like me to book an appointment?'

If Paulus was trying to avoid him, an appointment might give him a convenient excuse to disappear again. 'No, I'm too busy today. Tell him I will try to stop by tomorrow.' Catch him on the hop this afternoon and he might be shaken enough to tell what he knows.

But Victor's raid produced a new wrinkle. If Paulus knew or suspected what was going on at Linz, he would find out about the arrests sooner rather than later. And once he knew, he might run if he was guilty. That could be the best solution from Heimo's standpoint. Paulus would almost certainly be caught, but the whole matter would be out of Heimo's hands. An elegant solution \- at least until the self-disgust climbed up the back of his throat.

Things were starting to happen. Gunther swung around from his computer. 'I ran the registration on the car up at the house. It's not the gardener's, it's registered to the Falkner company. But the history is interesting. It was de-registered about two years ago and apparently taken off the road. The previous registered owner was Matthias Skolnik.'

'Makes me wonder how the twins got hold of it. Elinor probably threw her weight around. Call the company and see if they can give you any more.'

He needed to talk to Cristina. There was so much he couldn't tell her, but he wanted to discuss everything. Meandering through this ridiculous maze of secret operations and need-to-know compartments was the best way he knew to hamstring an investigation.

'Good morning, Heimo.' Her voice was business-like, neutral, and to him, doom-laden.

'Hello, I have an update unless you're busy?'

'I have a meeting in forty-five minutes.'

'That's enough. May I come over?'

'Of course.' She paused. 'Heimo, it's OK.'

'Is it?' It was out before he could catch it. He thumbed the connection off and called Gunther to tell him to hold the fort.

When he walked in her office, she stood up and came around the desk. They stared at each other, then slammed together like magnets. He couldn't kiss her but held on like a child clutching its mother. After a few moments, she stepped back, but held his hands.

They were both breathless.

'We need to talk,' she said. 'But there is no time now.'

He breathed in, slowly and deeply, hoping to steady his voice. 'I know, I... just wanted to give you an overview. It's not much.'

He recounted the evidence from the crime scene. 'Very little there to help us, but if the tire tracks prove to be from someone connected to the Falkners, we might start making progress.'

Cristina nodded. 'I can fill in a bit more background. I'm still tracing the properties acquired by the Falkners. One of the farms turns out to have been owned by my mother's father.'

'Is it the same as the others - legal confiscation?'

'It may be. At the moment, I'm trying to find more about my grandparents. But there was definitely a farm which changed hands, and it seems to fit what I know. By the way, I decided to call my brother.'

He froze a little inside. 'And?'

'I couldn't talk to him. Rona, my sister-in-law, said he was in bed with a cold. His throat's so bad, his voice is gone. But after I called, I wondered why I did it. I had nothing to ask him. We can always talk about family things, of course, but...well, it was pointless.'

So last night he can't talk to his sister, but this afternoon he's in the office. Made no more sense than any of the rest of it.

'And one last item,' she said, 'although it's not really about the case. The Falkner's lawyer called me. Elinor and Josef Falkner came to see him and demanded the money from the estate. He told them the will had not been settled yet because of the murders. So they wanted an advance, and he had to admit that neither Gerhard nor Thomas had made any provision for them. Elinor became very abusive, and the lawyer had to call for help to get them out of his office.'

Heimo shook his head. 'We expect them to do something stupid fairly soon to feed Josef's habit, but I can't lock them up just on the anticipation. I've notified everyone to keep an eye out, so maybe we can head them off before they get really crazy. I may be working tonight. Can I call you later?'

'I'm in court until about four, and I also have some errands, but call me if you get a chance.'

They melted into another embrace, this time with no reticence, but fear still intruded between them.

### Chapter 38

Martin Paulus made the back his of neck itch. How could a man run a bank and not know about all the things that seemed to go on in the Falkner accounts? And lying to his sister in a conspicuous attempt to avoid talking to her. It was like a bad boy hiding his head under the covers - everyone knew what you were doing. There was something else the Falkners had been doing, something that Paulus didn't want discovered. Or maybe he was buying time until it buried itself.

Hunger, a rarity these days, growled in his belly. He decided to call Veronique and ask her to lunch. It gave him an odd sensation, and he smiled.

'Hello, it's Heimo. Are you hungry?'

She was, so he drove over to pick her up. She wore the universal uniform of jeans and trendy top, he was struck anew at how fresh and young she looked. When she jumped in the car, she leaned over and kissed his cheek.

'Hello, Papa. Is it all right if I say it?'

'Of course. But it's going to hurt if it turns out the other way.'

'It would not be what I want, but I would be OK. I try to keep, how do you say, a clear mind, and be prepared if...well if it happens you are not.'

Heimo smiled. 'We go with the flow then. I watch American TV sometimes.'

She giggled.

'What do you want to eat?'

'Something light. I ate too much last night.'

'We'll try Italian.'

He drove to a small bistro on the edge of the lake. They had a little wine and bowls of fresh pasta, and they talked about whatever the atmosphere produced. Heimo tried to take his own advice and go with it, but unpleasant thoughts nibbled his awareness. Family skeletons, Cristina, disease - they weren't going to leave him in peace for long.

He suggested some things Veronique might want to do in the afternoon, then dropped her at the hotel. His mind was already roaming back to the case, and the hankering to get hold of something solid was turning into a boil on the backside.

He called Gunther who told him nothing new had come up, so he said he'd drop in on Martin Paulus.

It was just past lunchtime when he arrived at the bank. Paulus's Range Rover was parked in the manager's slot, so he'd guessed right. He stepped up to the teller and asked to see the manager.

Heimo was curious about Paulus's demeanor and whether he would show any trace of recent illness.

After a moment, Paulus emerged from his office. His brow was creased in a frown and there was a patina of perspiration on his nose. Within a second, he converted the frown to a welcoming smile. Heimo edged into view, and Paulus charged over to him, hand out like the Inspector was one of his biggest depositors.

'Chief Inspector, good to see you. I'm so sorry we missed each other. Please come to my office.'

He gestured for Heimo to precede him, then closed the door. Heimo took the same seat and Paulus went behind his desk. He sat down, leaned forward and clasped his hands together. He was positively beaming.

'Can I get you anything? Coffee, tea?'

'Thank you, no. I'll try not to take up too much of your time, but I need to ask a few questions.'

'Of course, of course. As I said, I am sorry I have been away so much recently, but there is always a lot to do. I understand my assistant took care of your request for the documents on the accounts.'

No sign of that terrible throat. 'Yes he did. He seemed to think there was no problem if we had a warrant, so I supplied one and he produced the records immediately.'

'Good, good. Apparently our head office had no difficulties with the procedure. So, how else can I help you? I heard, of course, about poor Thomas Falkner. Incredible, isn't it? Both brothers within such a short time. Are they...are the two deaths connected?'

'We believe so. They can hardly be coincidental.'

'No, no, of course not. As I say, it seems incredible.'

'Our forensic accountants went through the bank records and the Falkner company accounts. They believe money from criminal activities has been funneled through several of them.'

Paulus tried to looked astounded but failed. He did manage to look ill for the first time. 'Are you absolutely certain? I...well, I find it almost impossible to comprehend. Gerhard Falkner was a man of considerable means. And he had an excellent family background. Why would he do something like this?'

'We are still investigating, of course. Of more immediate concern is why the bank didn't notice anything.'

Paulus leaned back, steepling his fingers and appearing grave. But the pose lacked conviction, and his hands constantly rubbed each other. 'Certainly we would detect such dealings if we had been specifically looking for them. But I must stress, Chief Inspector, a significant number of transactions go through this bank every day. It is not possible to look at all of them in detail. And we must respect the privacy and confidentiality of our clients. That is most important.'

'I understand there are new laws about laundering.'

Paulus nodded and Heimo thought he was beginning to relax. 'That is correct. We have new rules and new software that will help us find these activities, but they are not yet in place. In the past, we didn't normally concern ourselves with such things.'

'And you had no suspicion the Falkners were involved in anything illegal?' He'd opened the door and wondered if Paulus would step through.

'None at all. As I said, I have known Gerhard Falkner for some years.' His eyes widened. 'But I didn't know Thomas Falkner very well. Is it conceivable he would have done these things without Gerhard's knowledge?'

Three lies in as many minutes - not bad going. 'At this point anything is possible. Will you have trouble with your superiors if the laundering is confirmed?'

Paulus looked taken aback. His own hierarchy was patently not his first concern. 'Well...it's possible but not likely. Our rules and procedures are quite strict, and I adhere to them. So long as I have been doing my job, and I have, then I do not think my superiors would hold me responsible.'

'Good. By the way, I just found out you're the brother of Cristina Neuroth.'

Paulus looked bewildered at the change of tack. 'Why, yes I am. How did you know?'

'She's the Prosecutor on the Falkner murders.'

This time Paulus developed a distinct greenish tinge and sweat popped on his forehead. 'I...I didn't know. We have not talked for some weeks. I should call her and see how she is.' He tried a smile, but it never got above halfway there. 'Always too busy you know.'

Heimo stood up. 'Thank you for your time, Mr. Paulus. I will see myself out.'

He ignored the outstretched hand and walked out without closing the office door.

### Chapter 39

The office was deserted when he returned. Maybe they were all out turning up solid leads, but it was more likely they were following up on the endless bits and pieces. He sat at his desk and tried to burrow into his paper pile with less than total enthusiasm.

When his phone buzzed, he was so engrossed the noise startled him. He thumbed it on and heard Victor say, 'You'll be glad to hear we got the buggers.'

'I certainly will. Which particular buggers are we talking about?'

'Just heard from the Italian police. They seized a shipment going out of Naples. Looked like crates of electronic circuit boards, but the weight seemed too much. So they popped one of them open, burrowed through about twenty-five centimeters of legitimate stuff, and below that, boxes and boxes of small arms and ammunition. And you'll like this part - came straight out of the Linz factory. It must have been in transit for a while because I don't think they'd try to ship anything with all the heat on. We're rounding up more of the workers, because quite a few of them had to be involved one way or another.'

'Great result, congratulations. Any of it get me closer to my killer?'

'Not directly, we're still trying to put the relationships together. We have some good leads, and the Italians are much more engaged now. There's one thing that might help. Two of the companies in this network are dummies. The bank should have detected them because they've been flagged all over Europe by Interpol. Worth anything to you?'

'Maybe. It gives me some leverage. Got any other nuggets?'

'No, but as I say, in a few days there will be a lot of fish in the net.'

'Keep me posted, and thanks for the update.'

Was that what was causing Paulus to change color? If he knew about those transactions, and processed them anyhow, his neck would be out a kilometer. And that might explain his stonewalling. If the shipment had gone through, the involvement of the dummy companies would not have been exposed, and Paulus would be home free.

But it put Heimo squarely in the shit. He still couldn't prove anything. If he told Cristina any of it, he would compromise Victor's organization. If he didn't, he was withholding pertinent information from the Prosecutor on a homicide investigation. All he had was gut instinct. He trusted it; he knew she could not. But, if her brother was involved, she had to take herself off the case now, or be compromised when the stuff hit the fan. Hobson's choice - no choice at all.

He decided to bring Walter up to date. It was becoming a pain in the ass, this having to run to the boss all the time. Not that he objected to telling Walter, he objected to having to tell him.

He knocked on the door and was greeted by a clear atmosphere. 'This is refreshing. I think it's the first time I've seen all of your office.'

'None of your lip, boy. I notice you still don't have a murderer in tow, or is he hidden behind the door as a surprise?'

'Any minute now. Victor just called and had some info that might be useful.' He told Walter about the transactions and his feelings about Paulus's potential involvement. He skirted around the facts that Paulus was the Prosecutor's brother, that Heimo was sleeping with the Prosecutor, and that the Chief of Homicide was playing fast and loose with the rules once again.

'It's just conceivable Paulus is innocent. Any given item could have escaped his notice, or been handled by an assistant, or there could be some other explanation. But the son-of-a-bitch acts guilty and I can't get past it. None of it helps with the murder investigation, unfortunately. If we don't learn something from the tire tracks, we're stuck.'

'And no one else who fits?'

'Not a one. Oh, there are possibilities, like the people in charge of the arms operation, or the mafia, or a supplier who got stiffed on a payment. But we don't have any evidence actually pointing to anyone.'

'The Falkner brother and sister?'

'Nothing useful. We'll watch them for a couple of nights, but I don't think it's going to help. Near as we can tell, the brother is just out to score a little coke to feed his habit.'

'All right. Grind it out and see what happens.'

Heimo went by the canteen, drew a cup of coffee, wandered down the hall, dropped in to talk with a few colleagues, and accomplished nothing for an hour. By the time he got back to his desk, Alex was dancing around with a piece of paper.

'Got it - Halegger's people tracked down the tires. And one name pops out - Martin Paulus.'

Heimo stared at him, his face rigid. 'Jesus Christ.' He had never had Paulus in mind for murder. Several other criminal activities, yes, but not as a killer.

Alex said, 'Right out of the blue, isn't it? What kind of motive would he have?'

Heimo took a deep breath. 'Let's slow down. How many others on the list?'

'Seven. Halegger said these are the only tires of this type that have been sold in Austria. But the manufacturer also sells them in Germany and Italy, and they've been available in Germany for about eight months.'

'So it still doesn't mean we're there. Before we jump, let's talk to the other six and see where we stand. Use the old one about a traffic accident, find out if anybody owns up to being in the right place at the right time. Leave Paulus out of it for the moment. It could be someone from Germany or Italy passing through.'

But he was thinking: That road is way off the normal tourist track.

Alex looked at his watch. 'Getting late. Most of them may not be available until tomorrow.'

'I doubt if anything will happen tonight. Where's everyone else?'

Alex shrugged. 'Not sure. Around the building I guess.'

Within five minutes, they had all returned. Heimo told them about the tires, and each took a couple of names.

Results were meager. Sigi talked to one man who said he had been in Frankfurt on the day in question and had left his car in the airport at Graz. But no one else answered.

'OK, pick it up in the morning. We'll watch the twins for one more night, but let's shorten the times. Sigi, you and Gunther take 2000 to 2300, and Alex and I will do 2300 until 0200. Should cover the time they're most likely to try to get out. None of the dealers will be around much later, anyway. Any movement, give me a call.'

They turned away to finish for the day. The duty officer came in with an envelope that had been delivered by courier. Heimo opened it and extracted four sheets of computer printout. There was a note from Cristina. 'Properties suspected of being confiscated by Falkners through political influence after the war.'

He glanced through the lists. There were more than seventy entries. Two were highlighted - one showed the original owner was a Herman Paulus and the other a man named Gottfried Kapeller. Was this Gottfried his grandfather, or an uncle, or any relation at all? Kapeller was not an uncommon name.

He wondered what the places looked like. Each listing had an address and contained a basic description of the property. He had an idea and logged onto his computer. He brought up Google Earth and put the address of the Kapeller farm in. Google didn't recognize it, probably because it was in the old style with just a house name. But coordinates were listed, so he tried the Austrian land registry system, and there it was. But it wasn't much.

The satellite photo was two years old, and the resolution not sharp. He could see fields and what appeared to be two derelict buildings. But it was a distinct place, and he wondered if his ancestors had owned it and farmed it. He tracked around the screen for a while, but there was not much else to see.

Then he tried the listing for Paulus. This one was much better, the photo being only three months old. Resolution was good and he could zoom down to one thousand meters and the picture stayed sharp. The place was close to a main road, and he could just discern a track through the trees. It also looked to be a farm. There was a barn with an intact roof, and the ruts made by a tractor were visible. And based on the coordinates, it was a larger establishment than the Kapeller listing.

He tucked the lists back in the envelope in time to hear the team's goodbyes as they trickled out of the office. He looked at his watch, and weariness settled over him like a thick blanket.

He called Veronique, not willing to trust himself with Cristina. Guilt was not an emotion he often experienced, and it irritated him like a hot, dry wind.

'What would you like to do this evening?'

'Papa, I think I should go home. I checked the flights and there is a connection tomorrow at eleven o'clock. Is that OK?'

'Of course. Is everything all right at home?'

'Oh yes, nothing is wrong. But you are busy, and it is not fair for you to have to look after me. Besides, Mama does not know why I came, and she will worry if I am away long.'

'Are you going to tell her when you get back?'

'I don't know, I am still thinking. Is it the right thing to do before we are sure?'

'Well, often it's about timing, isn't it? There are times when you can say something, and people accept it. I don't think your mother would be angry, but you have to judge if it's a good time or not.'

'Just to talk about it makes it a little clearer. For tonight, I would be happy to stay here if it is all right with you.'

'Of course. I'm on call tonight, anyway. I'll pick you up tomorrow morning and take you to the airport.'

They said their good-nights, and Heimo was relieved. He wanted to see her, but he needed to be alone to get his batteries recharged.

### Chapter 40

Guilt kicked in. He hadn't checked on his father for too long although he knew someone would have called if anything was awry. It was one duty he could cross off his list even if it meant confronting Erich's deterioration.

And what about the rest of the evening? Cristina? He phoned, but she didn't answer.

He made sure the duty officer knew where he'd be, then strolled out to the car, allowing thoughts to tumble around his head without conscious direction. Life had become almost too complex in the past few days. He operated more efficiently if he could deal with one problem or situation at a time. Multi-tasking was not his favorite buzzword, but a sense of unfinished business nagged him.

Erich's neighbor was out on the lawn when Heimo parked. She waved and Heimo went over to talk to her.

'How is he?'

'He seems to be fine. The nurse comes, of course, but he's been quiet. He came out here the other day but didn't do much - just stared off into the distance for a while. I think it would help if he had more exercise.'

Heimo nodded. 'I know, I've tried to get him out. This weekend, I'll try to take him shopping or for a walk.'

'It can't be good for him to stay in there watching television all the time, can it?'

Heimo thanked her and walked over to his father's apartment. He knocked once and went in. The curtains were still drawn, but two lights had been turned on so the living room looked less like a cave than usual. The TV was on, but the sound was almost inaudible. Erich seemed to be asleep in his chair, but he started as Heimo approached, and his eyes snapped open.

'What do you want? Who are you?'

Heimo kept his voice low. 'Just me Dad. I came over to see how you are.'

Erich relaxed. 'You pick your bloody times. Why'd you turn the TV down?'

'I didn't, it was already down. How are you feeling?'

'Terrible. Sore all over. Bloody pills.'

'I'll mention it to the nurse. Maybe they can alter the medication. Hugo is coming down on Sunday with Ingrid and the kids. They can't wait to see you.'

Erich snorted. 'Waited long enough, didn't they?'

'You know Hugo's busy. I want to ask you something. Did we own a farm up near the mountains?'

'Course we did, 'till that bastard stole it.'

'You mean Gerhard Falkner?'

'His father.'

'When did this happen?'

'After the war. Wanted to kill him, but I didn't.'

'Did you see the news? Gerhard's brother, Thomas, was also murdered?'

'Who?'

'Thomas Falkner.'

'Never heard of him. Is it time for dinner?'

Heimo checked his watch. 'They should be along in a few minutes.' Social services provided two meals a day for people like Erich, and it was the one thing he seemed to look forward to.

'What happened to the farm? I don't remember hearing anything about it.'

Erich's head swiveled. 'What farm?'

Oh-oh. 'Our farm Dad.'

But the old man was gone again. Heimo ground his teeth. Hugo and Ingrid were in for a shock. They hadn't visited Erich since the mental problems became acute.

There was a knock on the door and Heimo opened it. A young woman in jeans and a full-length white apron stood there.

'Hello, is Mr. Kapeller ready for his dinner?'

'He is, and thanks. We both appreciate what you do.'

That earned him a smile. He doubted they got many compliments.

He decided it was a good evening for beer and sausage, so he walked over to a gasthaus a few doors away. Most of the patrons were from the retired community, but the food, while simple, was first rate.

Heimo sat out in the garden watching the glow of the evening sun. In the past few days, worry about the Huntington's disease had dropped out of his consciousness for much of the time. He dragged it out to chew on it and found he was no longer terribly concerned. Maybe incurable diseases worked that way. You got to a point where you realized worrying about it wasn't going to do any good. If it happened, it happened, and you got on with things as best you could. But you couldn't change it.

The beer was cold and good. He had another when they brought the meal, and both settled comfortably. One thing would have improved it - the company of Cristina.

Then he started to think about the contrast between disease and love. Love was something you had to worry about because love meant loss of control. Your own emotions were difficult enough to manage, but there was another person involved, and you had zero control over theirs. Is this what I want, is this what she wants? So you worried about it, even if it was pointless. Two beers produced profound thoughts. He grinned and felt less depressed

He paid the bill and went home. It was a good evening for a little music and a book that had nothing to do with love or crime or families. And maybe a nap before the excitement of trying to catch a junkie buying drugs.

### Chapter 41

Morning briefing produced nothing useful, and the previous night's surveillance had been a bust. Either the twins had managed to get through the day without drugs, or their last buy had been enough to tide them over. The gardener's car remained in its hole.

They started on the tire investigation as soon as they returned to the office. Within an hour, they'd crossed five of the seven known buyers off the list.

Gunther said, 'Have to take their word on their whereabouts, but near as we can tell, none of them have any relationship with the Falkners, and the alibis sound reasonable.'

'What about the other one?'

'Still trying to get hold of him. Talked to his office, but he's on a plane for Stuttgart. Should catch him just after he lands. His name is not on any of our suspect lists.'

'Looking more and more like Paulus, isn't it?'

Gunther nodded. 'Always did.'

Heimo grinned. 'It's not much fun sticking to the rules, is it?'

'So what do we do if Paulus is the last on the list?'

'Good question. We could ask him straight out if he's been near the lay-by and why. If he says he was there the day before just driving along, we can't prove otherwise. So we tell him there was an accident, and an eyewitness puts him there at the right time. He admits it or denies it. Either way, we get a warrant to take a cast from his tires to eliminate him. If they match the traces Halegger found in Gerhard's area, we jump in his stuff with both feet.'

Gunther nodded. 'Sounds good. Who bells the cat and how?'

'One of you goes over in uniform. Tell him the tale and see what happens.'

'I love these complex plans.'

'If it turns out to be the other tire owner, we'll have to shift course.'

But the traction stayed firm. The businessman, contacted while he was waiting for his luggage, told them he had been at a conference in Helsinki on the night in question, and provided the pertinent details.

Heimo headed for the door. 'I'll tell Walter.'

He stuck his head in the boss's door and outlined the program.

Walter nodded. 'Make sure all those ducks are in a straight line.'

Heimo flipped a coin to decide whether Gunther or Sigi would visit Paulus. Gunther crowed when it came up heads.

Sigi sighed and stood up. 'Now I just need to see if I can fit into my uniform.' None of the others thought it would be a problem. Sigi had not acquired a noticeable gram since she'd joined the squad.

'Off you go. Better call first - he's been out of the office a lot recently.'

Heimo walked down to the car park. He needed to talk to Cristina about her brother. When she answered her voice was warm, and he was stabbed by a large guilt for the secrets he was keeping.

'Good morning, how's it going?'

'Well, we're making a little progress, but it's too early to say if it will lead anywhere. I had a thought last night. Your brother said he'd known Gerhard Falkner for a long time. Do you know how far back they go?'

'Not precisely. Martin is seven years my senior, so we didn't mix too much when we were young. I think he knew Gerhard in school. Why?'

'We're looking at the past for a motive. It could be something from a long time ago. But we haven't found anyone who knew him then except your brother. I thought he might point us to people we could talk to, or he might know of some problem that could give us a lead.'

'I suppose it's possible. They've had business dealings for a while, but I'm not sure how long. I saw him last night by the way.'

The alarm bell in the back of his head clanged. 'I wondered where you'd got to.'

'He called and said it had been too long and the kids and Rona wanted to see me. So I went, and we had a drink and talked for a while.'

Heimo took a chance. 'Is he better after his illness?'

'He seemed perfectly OK, no cough or anything. I asked him how he was feeling, and he said the doctor gave him an injection and it was like a miracle cure.'

The man was as slippery as greased rope. He hoped Paulus wouldn't see through Sigi's stratagem.

'Did you mention the case?'

'No, that would have been seriously improper. But he brought it up, said he knew I was working on it and hoped the bank information had been helpful. Did you tell him?'

'I may have,' he replied, trying to slide through the narrow gap. 'I talked to him before I knew he was your brother. Or perhaps it was your name as the requesting official on the warrant. Is it a problem?'

'Not really, I was just surprised. Anyway, nothing else was discussed.'

'Is it OK if I ask him about Gerhard's old friends, or would you like to do it?'

She was quiet for a moment. 'It isn't normal procedure, but I think I'd rather do it. I may be able to remind him of something which could lead to more names.'

'Sounds good. Can I see you tonight?'

'Let's make it tomorrow, Heimo. I'm developing a migraine, and I may have to go home early.'

'Of course. Anything I can do?'

'Thank you, no. I need to lie down and take some medication. I'll call you tomorrow or maybe later today if Martin gives me any names.'

He clicked off, uncomfortable with all the half-truths and evasions. But the deeper he went in, the more difficult it was to get out.

When he climbed the stairs back to the office, Sigi was gone. Nothing to do but wait. He checked his watch. Time to pick Veronique up. He told Gunther he had to run an errand and would be back in an hour. Another evasion. He was worse than Paulus.

Veronique was waiting in the hotel lobby when he arrived. She once again looked the young professional, but his own perspective had changed. He took her hands and kissed her on the cheek.

'All checked out?'

'Yes, I am ready.'

He carried her suitcase out to the car. As he drove, she said, 'I have decided to tell Mama.'

'Good. If you need me to talk to her, I will. In fact, I would like to talk to her. It's been a long time.'

'I wonder if she will be angry. I do not know why she would be, but these things are emotional, yes?'

He smiled. 'They are, but Paulette has a level head as I recall. Are you at work on Monday?'

'Yes. I think now it will be more interesting because my Papa is a policeman.' She giggled.

'And I will look forward to Interpol notices more than I have in the past.'

'Is it possible you can visit us?'

'It is, although I don't know when. My schedule depends on the crime situation, but I am supposed to have a holiday in October, so that might be a good time.'

'What should we do about the DNA test?'

'Let me make some enquiries. They'll need a sample from both of us, but I imagine that's not a big problem. We'll use our lab in Innsbruck. I'll call you as soon as I can make arrangements.'

'I think I will be impatient for it to be finished.'

Heimo thought: And me more than you.

The airport, as usual, was quiet. Heimo parked in a taxi slot and took her through the check-in. There was no one else in the line. They walked over to the security lane.

Heimo hugged Veronique for a moment and leaned back to look at her. 'I cannot get over the idea I have a daughter.'

'And I feel like I have found my Papa at last, and I am happy about it.'

'Please call me when you get home. You know how fathers worry.'

She laughed. 'Yes Papa, I promise.' She hugged him again, fiercely, then went into departure.

Heimo walked back to the car. There was a mix of feelings, but he didn't try to sort them out.

He stopped at a cafe. Over coffee and a doughnut, he allowed himself to wallow in fuzzy fantasies involving Cristina and his new daughter. Then reality returned. He sighed and sank back into the grind.

Gunther was on the phone when he got in. He finished and swung around in his chair. 'Sigi. Looks good. Paulus says he's never been in the area, and the tracks must belong to someone else. Sigi told him we might need to take casts to eliminate his car, and he questioned it, but said OK.'

'Right, let's not rush things. He's trapped himself. Even if he tries to change the tires or get rid of the car, it will point straight at him.'

Heimo stared into space, calculating. Paulus was now the prime suspect but moving too fast might jeopardize a valid arrest. Waiting too long and allowing the man to run would be worse. The best bet would be to put a tail on him until they were ready.

'I'll tell Karl about the casts, but we'll have to manage the timing. Too quick and he might come up with an excuse to delays things.'

Gunther was skeptical. 'Telling him about the casts might spook him, you know. He can put two and two together. If he knows the tracks will match, he could do a runner.'

'True, but where would he go? He's not a pro. If he runs, he's telling us he's guilty, and we can put stoppers in all the usual places. Not likely he could evade us for long. But it's a risk. I'll talk to Surveillance and see if they can supply a tail.'

He stopped off at the Forensic office and asked Halegger to do the tire casts when Heimo gave the word.

'Paulus look like your guy?'

'Not a hundred percent sure, and even if the tires match, it's not proof. But he denied he'd ever been in the area, so it gives me enough to go after him.'

Halegger nodded. 'I'll be able to tell as soon as I compare our cast with his tires if it's the right one. Give you a call one way or the other.'

He thanked Halegger, then went down to give Walter his latest news.

Walter put his feet on the desk. 'Any feelings about him as the murderer?'

'I still can't quite see it and for the same reason - motive. If he was involved in the laundering and arms, and business was good, why kill anyone? By the way, I need Surveillance on him for a day or two.'

Walter shook his head. 'Sorry. No one free for a few days.'

Heimo walked back to the office constructing different scenarios.

He pulled out the lists on the confiscated properties. Gunther noticed and said, 'What're those?'

Heimo explained what Cristina had found. 'Shooting at the moon looking for a motive, but it was fairly hopeless from the start. However, she did turn up a few odd things. It's possible both my family's farm and hers were among those the Falkners got hold of through legal double-dealing.'

Gunther slapped his knee. 'Both of you have motive. If I arrest you, I might get your job.'

'Very droll. I looked on the land registry photos, but there's not much detail. Thought I'd call the local people and see what they've got.'

The Station Chief was an old friend. 'Hello Heimo, I've not seen you in forever. What's happening?'

Heimo gave him the bare bones. 'I wondered if any of your chaps knew anything about it.'

'As a matter of fact, I know a little. The farm has been derelict for a long time. I don't remember anyone living there. But the land is farmed by a man who lives about two kilometers away although I'm not sure how long he's had it.'

'Does he own it?'

'No idea. Be easy to check with the registry though.'

'The other one is farther east. I don't know if it's on your patch or not.' He described the location.

'Got a big barn on it just off the Soldern road?'

'That's it.'

'Yeah, I know it. Can't remember the name of the man who farms it, but the barn is in use and had some major repairs done on it about two years ago.'

'How do you know?'

'Well, some teenagers were having a party up there one night and they set fire to the place. Fire department put it out before it completely burned down, but we had to look into it. Used to be a house on it a long time ago, and you can still see the foundations. But there's nothing there now but hay and farm equipment. I do know the farmer leases it. The owner on the insurance policy was someone named Josef Falkner. Any relation to your case?'

'There is indeed. He's the brother of my two dead folks.'

Heimo thanked his colleague. Some of the bigger puzzle pieces started to float toward each other.

### Chapter 42

Gunther and Sigi perched on the edge of their chairs while Alex lolled back, feet on an outstretched drawer.

'Why don't we just bust the guy?' he asked.

Gunther's eyes rolled up, but Sigi remained still.

Heimo's tone took on a schoolmaster's inflection. 'The only evidence we have is a possible set of matching tire tracks close to the location of one homicide. So we arrest him and charge him with what - driving on a public road?'

'But he said he was never there.'

'And as soon as we pull him in, he suddenly remembers he had to visit a sick friend in Eisenkappel. Then what?'

Alex ran his hands through his hair and frowned.

Sigi looked at him. 'You've got to learn to think everything through and figure out all the possibilities. It's like chess - look four, five, six moves ahead. If Paulus is the man, he's not going to roll over and confess because we get in his face.'

Heimo nodded. 'The main point in our favor is that we finally have someone specific to investigate. The tires will hopefully be one link. We also know that illegal transactions passed through his bank, and that gives us leverage. But we have no forensic, no murder weapon and no motive. If the tracks prove opportunity, we still need the others to make a case.'

Gunther chimed in. 'Got to keep an eye on him. Possible there's someone else he needs to blow away, and that would not look good. Or he might panic and run, then we'd have to chase him God knows where.'

'Correct. And Surveillance can't help us, so we drop the other stuff and set up our own system. He'll be at the bank until after five. I'm betting he'll go home and try to figure out what he needs to do. Let's start watching him this evening after eight. And if his car's not at the house at that time, we know something is up and we'll take the lid off.'

Sigi said, 'And we have to have confirmation on those tires before we make a move. If they somehow are not Paulus's, we're stuffed.'

'Drop the twins?' asked Gunther.

Heimo nodded. 'Can't see any point. They're a nasty pair, but they don't appear to be associated with the murders. The Druggies will pick up one or both of them sooner or later.'

Alex said, 'What's the schedule, then?'

'Let's do four-hour shifts tonight. I'll take the first trick starting at eight tonight, Gunther you relieve me, then Sigi and Alex. But call me at each change and tell me what's happening. I'll ask Halegger to visit the guy tomorrow and do the tires. We'll be close by and if there's a match, we'll take him in.'

The remainder of the afternoon flattened out like summer in August. It was warm and drowsy, and there was nothing going on anywhere. Even the other squads seemed quiet. Heimo tried to get into the paperwork until he realized he'd been studying the same personnel form for five minutes without seeing any of it.

Walter was up to speed with all the latest. The squad had finished their assignments. Paulus would not be a problem until the evening. His new daughter was gone, and his new girlfriend was ill. Perfect end to a perfect week.

Finally he called it a day. 'Anybody got anything needs doing?'

Answers came in grunts. 'Ok, knock off whenever you're ready. I've had enough, but I'll be on my phone if you need me.'

He walked out to the car and called Victor, but the woman who answered said he wasn't available. So Heimo went home and changed into his running gear. He warmed up and started with an easy jog. After a few minutes, his mind emptied of everything but the rhythm of his feet.

Close to the edge of town, he pulled up for a breather. He'd done about four kilometers, but his heart was pounding despite the slow pace. He stopped at a service station and bought a bottle of water, then walked back to the flat. By the time he got there, he felt more energetic than when he started.

Although he'd dodged around it for most of the afternoon, he finally had to face Cristina's probable reaction when her lover arrested her brother. Worst case - he'd lose them both. Paulus might still slip through the net if they couldn't find more damning evidence. And Cristina would never accept all the lies, evasions and half-truths, not from someone who wanted more than collegial friendship. Whatever happened, he wouldn't win.

Homicide cases were like runaway trains - slow to get moving but almost impossible to stop. And the web of illegal activity that permeated everything, the deceit built into every aspect of the Falkner's lives, was like a shroud. It covered and obscured facts and hid endless secrets stretching back into the past. Even if he unraveled the murders, the chances of coming out the other end with a whole emotional skin were slim indeed.

Enough of that. He resolved on self-improvement. A quiet meal with decent wine, then a little Mozart and one of the Great Works. It sounded appalling, but it might work, and he had hours to kill without imagining any more disasters.

He tried a restaurant specializing in French cuisine, a tribute to his new daughter. It was excellent. The owner, trying to build up his clientele, was attentive, and the wine he recommended was outstanding. After three courses and a careful glass of red, Heimo was bulging and began to relax.

Back home, he changed into the jeans and sweater he'd need on the surveillance, put Symphony Number 40 on the CD player and had a go at Herodotus. Within minutes, he receded two thousand years, and was lost when his phone buzzed.

He didn't recognize the number on the screen. 'Kapeller.'

A ragged voice, as though the speaker was under great strain, grated, 'They got her you bastard!'

It was a man's voice, and he tried to say more, but broke off with a ripping cough.

'Who is this? What are you talking about?'

All he could hear were gasps. Heimo was on his feet. 'Who is this?'

'Paulus.' And the phone went dead.

He punched the number back in, but it went to message.

He ran for the bedroom to get his shoes and gun.

Paulus - who did he mean? Who's got her? What the hell was going on?

Shoes on and holster in hand, he ran out to the car. He got in, cranked it, then forced himself to stop. He had to figure this out before careering off.

Why would Paulus call him? He'd sounded on the edge of pain or exhaustion. But who were "they" and who had they got? The only thing that made any sense was a kidnapping. Maybe someone had grabbed his wife or child. Maybe the whole scenario with Paulus as the killer was complete moonshine, and it was the mob all along.

He'd never figure it out sitting still. He started for the office, racing through the evening traffic, running stoplights, caring not at all.

And then it hit. Cristina - someone had Cristina.

Shit, shit, shit.

Who and where, who and where?

The Falkners, the murderer, the goddamn Mafia, who, who, who?

He slewed off the road cutting across a service station forecourt, back on to the side street, jamming the brakes to miss a jogger, bouncing the edge of a traffic circle, then left to the front of the LKA building.

When he burst inside, the duty officer jumped to his feet, reaching for his sidearm until he saw who it was.

'What is it?'

Heimo forced control. 'We may have a kidnapping in progress. Tell Cobra to stand by.'

The officer grabbed the phone and hit a red button. While he was passing the message, Heimo called Gunther. He waited for four rings, squeezing his phone to force the call through.

'What's up, Heimo?'

'Just got a call from Paulus. All he said was "they've got her". I don't know who he's talking about or where he is or any-bloody-thing, but I'm going to need help. I'm at the office.'

'On my way.'

He went back to the duty officer who said, 'Cobra's notified, sir. They have six officers and two dogs ready when you give the word.'

'Good. I got a call, and it was cut off, but it was from a mobile. I need to find out where the signal came from. Call the telecom people and get an urgent trace done on the last transmission.'

The man held out his hand. Heimo thumbed up the number, and the officer wrote it down and went to work.

Heimo strode to the window and tried to think. Paulus said, "they've got her". Maybe it wasn't Cristina. It could be his wife, or...he dredged up Cristina's description of the family. Yes, there was a daughter. That made more sense if Paulus was involved in dirty dealings. Someone might kidnap one of them to put Paulus under pressure to do...something. He tried Paulus's number again, but it wouldn't connect. The same with both of Cristina's numbers - nothing.

He turned back to the duty officer, who had been joined by a colleague.

The duty officer said, 'They're tracing the transmission now. It may take a few minutes.'

'Thank you. We need to find out who, if anybody, has been abducted. See if you can find the home phone number for a Martin Paulus. When you do, let me have it.' He gave the officer Paulus's address.

He heard tires squeal and saw Gunther running up to the front door.

'Anything?'

'I can't get hold of Paulus. Telecom's trying to trace the area of the last transmission. If it is a kidnap, it might be his family - he's got a wife and daughter. Or it could be Cristina Neuroth.'

'Neuroth? Why the hell would anyone kidnap her?'

'She's Paulus's sister.'

Gunther stared at him, open-mouthed. 'Is she, now?'

Heimo realized he had never gotten around to telling Gunther about Cristina.

The duty officer's phone buzzed. He spoke for a moment, then said, 'Hang on', and wrote something down.

'The transmission came from a mast at this location.' He gave Heimo a piece of paper with a set of coordinates in latitude and longitude.

Gunther grabbed it. 'Gimmee.' He ran for the stairs.

Heimo said, 'What time was the transmission?'

It was exactly when Heimo had received the call from Paulus.

'Is the network up?'

Telecom confirmed it was, so there had to be another reason Paulus was not answering.

The other officer replaced his phone. 'Got the number, sir.' He read it off and Heimo punched it in his phone memory.

Gunther came leaping down the stairs. He had a standard road map, and on it, he had drawn a circle with a dot in the middle. 'That's where the mast is. Ring any bells?'

Heimo stared at it for a minute, picking out landmarks and trying to remember the area. 'Yes, goddamn it, there's a farm up there owned by the Falkners. We'll take your car.'

He wheeled around to the duty officer. 'We're going to this location.' He pointed to the area. 'Do two things. Give Cobra the information but tell them silent approach until we know what we're dealing with. And call St. Veit station and tell them to send the closest patrol to the Falkner house and see if anyone is there. And tell them to be noisy about it.'

By the time the officer got his "Yes Sir" out, Heimo was halfway through the door.

Gunther was in the car, belted, and his blue light was already on. Heimo jumped in and they raced toward the southeast of the city. Gunther used his horn liberally until they hit the outskirts, then traffic thinned to the occasional tractor or truck.

Heimo called the Paulus number, and it was answered on the first ring. 'May I speak to Ms. Martin Paulus please.'

'Speaking. Who is this? The voice was high-pitched and quivering.

'Ms. Paulus, my name is Chief Inspector Heimo Kapeller. Your husband called me about thirty minutes ago, but his call was cut off. I don't want to frighten you, but he's been involved in a police investigation. I need urgently to find out where he is. Do you know?'

'Oh God! No, he just said he had to leave and rushed out. What's going on?'

'We're trying to find out. Did your husband get a message or a phone call before he went out?'

'He might have. He was in his study, so I don't know. Is he...is he all right?'

'I hope so. I'm going to have an officer go to your house and stay with you while we sort this out. I'll call as soon as we know anything.'

He relayed the requirement to the duty desk. The inspector acknowledged, and said, 'St. Veit just called. The Falkner house is dark, and they can't find anyone there.'

'OK, tell them to wait there until we know more. And one more thing.' He gave Cristina's address and told him to send a patrol to check on her, but without light or siren.

He stared out the windscreen. 'I can't think of anything else. How far?'

'About eight kilometers. Call the local boys?'

'Yes.' Heimo called the station responsible for the area and gave them a quick brief. 'Anybody close to that location?'

The dispatcher asked him to hold on, and Heimo could hear radio chatter in the background. 'Yes sir, about three kilometers from there.'

'Tell them to meet us on the main road about five hundred meters west of the farm track. And keep it quiet.'

Gunther said, 'What's this about a farm?'

'The Falkners have a farm up there. Josef is the owner of record, but it was originally owned by the Paulus family. There's no one living there anymore, but the barn is used by a local farmer to store hay and equipment. It's the closest place to the mast I know of that has any connection to this mess.'

Gunther nodded and shut off the blue light. But he kept the speed up, and within four minutes, they saw a police car just pulling over to the side of the road ahead of them. Gunther swung in behind him and they both got out.

The officer looked bemused. Heimo flashed his ID and said, 'Chief Inspector Kapeller. We think we may have a kidnapping in progress. Are you familiar with the farm up there?'

'Yes sir, although I haven't been there in a long time. It's just a barn and old equipment.'

'How far off this road?'

'About three hundred meters.'

'Clear, overgrown?'

'Oh it's clear, you can drive up there.'

'Right, here's what you do. Drive towards the track until you're about a hundred meters away, then stop, but leave your flashers on. My partner and I will go up to the farmyard. Cobra is on the way. Hold them here until I call you.'

The man held out his phone and Heimo thumbed the number into his own. 'Tell everyone to keep the noise down. We don't know what we're dealing with yet. And tell your dispatcher to have someone block the other end of the road.'

Heimo looked at Gunther who nodded. They turned their phones to vibrate, unholstered their Glocks and started along the side of the road. The sun was lowering in the west, but the light was still strong. Gunther led, but he stopped and Heimo froze behind him.

'Could be a car up the track a way. I can see something shiny.'

Heimo nodded. 'You stay on this side, I'll cross over.'

They moved ahead, crouching, weapons forward. Fifty meters in, they saw a silver Range Rover parked diagonally across the track, but there was no one in it.

The driver's door was open, and the keys were in the ignition. Heimo put his hand on the hood - cold. He looked at Gunther and shook his head. They skirted the ends of the car and continued up, moving slowly, alert.

The foliage pressed close on the sides of the lane, but the way ahead was clear. They caught their first glimpse of the farmyard while still a short distance away. The silence, normally welcoming on a spring evening, was oppressive here. Gunther suddenly held out his left arm, hand palm down. Heimo crouched, gun up.

Gunther twisted his head from side to side, like an animal trying to pinpoint a sound. He focused and gestured with his gun hand toward a spot about ten meters ahead. They advanced and Heimo watched the lane while Gunther eased into the edge of the forest. After a moment, he reappeared.

Heimo looked over at him, and Gunther mouthed, 'Paulus.' Heimo nodded and crossed the lane.

Gunther whispered, 'Looks like he's been shot, but still breathing.'

Heimo whispered back, 'I'll check.'

He went a short distance in and found Martin Paulus curled up on the ground, hands clasped across his belly. The banker's eyes were closed and he wasn't moving, but Heimo watched an air bubble expand out of his open mouth.

He holstered his pistol and crouched down. Trying to turn Paulus on his back wasn't easy, but after a moment he managed to ease him over. The man's face was white and dirt-smeared and his mid-section matted with blood. Heimo felt for a pulse on the throat and found one, but it was faint.

He went back out to the lane. 'Anything?' he whispered.

Gunther shook his head.

'Guy's got to have an ambulance. Tell the uniform to call it in. I'll wait here.'

Heimo knelt on one knee and tried to get a better idea of the farmyard layout. Through the foliage he could just see the front of the huge barn, its lower tractor entrance open, and a smaller door above hanging off one hinge. There was a pile of old hay and straw on one side, and across from the barn a stack of rusty diesel drums. Nothing else was visible.

A moment later, Gunther came up behind him. 'He's doing it. Told him to keep it quiet. Cobra's four minutes out.'

Heimo nodded and pointed to the barn. 'You go for that corner next to the big pine. I'll head for the oil drums. If anyone's here, they must be in the barn.'

He moved back across the lane and they started forward. They made it to the edge of the forest without seeing or hearing anything. The view opened up, but bar a few old bits of farm equipment, there was nothing else visible. Heimo watched the barn doors for some time.

He looked over at Gunther who grinned. Together, they started for their respective positions. The instant Heimo stood up, he heard a sharp crack and something ripping through the foliage above his head. He ran, giving it everything he had, not trying to dodge, but depending on speed. There was a second crack, but he had no idea where the bullet went. He dived for the stack of barrels, and slid forward through the mud behind them, squirming around to get back upright.

Somehow he'd kept the Glock out of the sludge. He took a breath, then looked at the fuel drums, wondering if they would ignite if a bullet went through them. Too late to worry about it now. He holstered the pistol, then crawled to the far end of the stack. He lay on his stomach and peered around the edge until he could make out the barn. He couldn't see anyone inside, but Gunther was up against the corner of the building, gun in both hands, and looking up at the top door. Heimo assumed the shots came from there rather than the lower opening.

He thought about yelling 'Police! But nobody who started shooting that quickly was going to just surrender. He got to his feet, still in a crouch behind the barrels. The quick look had shown him a clear run of perhaps fifteen meters from the far side of the stack to the wall of the barn. From there, no one in the upper door would be able to get out far enough to take a shot without exposing themselves.

He pulled the Glock out, checked to make sure it was ready to fire. Then, taking a deep breath, he charged out from behind the barrels, fired two quick shots in the direction of the barn's roof, and flattened out in another dead run. This time the crack was more of a boom and seemed to vibrate around his head. There were two lighter ones from his right.

He hit the barn wall with his left shoulder, gun up and looking at the black hole of the upper door, just in time to see a man toppling forward. He seemed to come down in slow motion, twisting, and hitting the bare earth with a sodden thump.

Heimo waited for a moment. The yard was silent again. Without warning, a high-pitched screech issued from the barn's upper floor, then confused sounds. Heimo stepped away from the wall, aiming up at the open door, trying to pick out movement in the blackness.

A bundle shot out of the opening as if catapulted. Heimo followed it down with the gun as it landed in the pile of hay. Something moved in the upper range of his vision and he jerked the Glock up.

He had a clear image of Elinor Falkner standing on the edge of the door aiming a rifle at him, a look of incandescent rage on her dirty face. His own gun crawled up toward her, much too slowly. But he felt it recoil of its own accord and knew he'd gotten one off, just as something hot smashed into the side of his head and the blackness swam up, engulfing him.

### Chapter 43

Things, indescribable things, shifted and swirled and slipped. He had a sense of being disembodied, floating among a kaleidoscope of objects half glimpsed. After a timeless time, some of them slowed and coalesced. And he knew he was himself.

Pain clutched the side of his head. Primitive instinct wanted to put his hand to it, to rub it away. But his hand and arm seemed to have disappeared. He wondered vaguely what had happened to them.

He decided to look for his arm and managed to crack open his right eye. It was bright out there and he squeezed the eye shut again. But the pain increased, so he forced the eye to open again. Very carefully, he rolled it to the right and there, as plain as anything, was Walter Meierhofer. Best to ask him about the arm. He found his mouth, but his lips seemed stuck together. So he made a noise.

Walter looked up from whatever he was staring at, then reached over Heimo's head for something. He said, 'Welcome back. Hang on a minute and the doc will be here.'

Heimo didn't hear him. He was working on opening his left eye and it took a lot of concentration, but he managed it. Then he had to focus and that took some time.

Something in white appeared over him, then a face peered into his eyes. The face wore glasses and blue eyes, and those eyes looked first at his left eye, then at his right, then nodded.

Heimo became aware of another pain, this one a raw feeling in his throat as though a small animal had been clawing away in there. He tried to say 'water', but only managed a croak.

The face with the glasses said, 'Throat raw, is it? Let's get you sorted.'

Another face appeared that seemed to be female, and he felt something warm rubbing his lower face, and his lips became unstuck. At the same time, he seemed to be rising. The pain on the side of his head began to shoot into his eye, so he closed it again.

The female reached around his head and held something in front of him. It was water, he could smell it. She held it to his lips and he gobbled it. The feeling in his throat was indescribable. He missed some of it, but she supplied more, then released his head. He glanced down his right side and there was his arm, in its accustomed place, but connected to a tangle of wire and tube.

He wiggled his tongue in his mouth and gathered his forces. 'Hospital?'

It sounded odd, but apparently Walter understood.

'You are indeed. Feeling better?'

'No.'

The face with the glasses appeared again, examining his features as though searching through small print. 'You received a bullet wound to the side of your head, Chief Inspector. The wound is not too serious, but the concussion is. It is essential you rest. In a few days you should feel much better.'

Heimo sank back and felt himself start to recline. He was asleep by the time the bed reached horizontal.

He tried to find his departure gate. The flight was leaving and he could not find the right gate. They kept telling him about another one. And he kept running and not finding it.

And then he was awake. His eyes were closed but he could sense bright light from his left. He moved his face around trying to get all the parts working, then opened his eyes a millimeter.

The light was sunlight, streaming through a window and bathing the room. He looked at it for a while, appreciating it. Then he looked to his right and there she was.

Cristina stared at him, her face pinched with anxiety. She had a black eye and a bandage on the edge of her jaw.

Heimo tried to smile but couldn't decide whether it worked or not. But she smiled and it was warm. He felt her hand touching his wrist, feather-light.

'Good morning. The doctor says you mustn't talk too much. You've had a tube in your throat. But he says everything is going to be all right.'

He tried to smile again, and this time thought he'd managed it. His tongue was thick and unwieldy. 'You OK?'

'Yes. A few scrapes. And my eye. Not my best color, is it?' The bruise had moved past purple and was now red and yellow.

'Looks fine.'

'And this.' She held up her wrist, encased in a plaster cast. 'I landed badly.'

He tried to swallow, and she was up instantly with a cup of water. She held it for him and once again he gobbled it, relishing the coolness.

'What happened?'

She massaged his fingers, rubbing each one separately. 'Are you sure you want to do this? It can wait.'

He moved his head slowly from side to side, aware of a heaviness. 'Need to know.'

Her face twisted for a moment, then sagged into sadness and grief. 'Martin is dead. They brought him here, but he died while they were operating.'

His pleasure at seeing her sank under an anguish that matched her own, although it's source was different.

'So sorry.'

She tried to straighten her shoulders. 'But I know now what he did. Did you?'

The question he knew would come. 'Not for sure. Started to wonder day or so before...all this. Thought he was involved in Falkner things. Wanted to tell you. Afraid.'

'I'm sorry, I didn't make it easy for you. I'm still having trouble believing my brother could kill.' Tears started, and she dabbed at her eyes. 'Oh, the hell with it. It's no good pretending it didn't happen.'

Heimo wanted to hold her, but his body tossed out the idea. Exhaustion claimed him and drifted down once more into sleep, and this time there were no dreams.

'Paulus killed both of the brothers.'

Gunther sat in a chair by one side of the bed, and Sigi in the other.

'But it's bloody complicated, I'll tell you.'

Sigi said. 'Paulus didn't think so. It's just difficult to fit it together in hindsight.'

'Try,' Heimo said. True to the doctor's prediction, after three days he felt better if not quite ready to run a marathon.

They'd found a diary which Paulus had apparently started when he went on his rampage. Although fragmentary, it gave them the core of his motivations as well as some descriptions of his acts.

Gunther said, 'All goes back to that farm. Paulus found an old notebook that his grandfather had made sometime after the war. Lots of stuff in there, but the bottom line was Falkner's old man stole their farm.'

'Same as ours. How?'

Sigi's face showed a level of disgust he'd never seen before. 'Falkner was in with the Nazis. Told the Gestapo that Paulus's grandfather was working with the Partisans. They sent him to a concentration camp in Croatia. His wife died there but he survived. Paulus's father was just a boy at the time.'

'How did he live through it?'

'Another family took him in, at least until they were also denounced. They died in the camp, but the boy managed to stay alive somehow.'

'And Paulus never knew?'

Gunther shook his head. 'Neuroth told us their father never talked about any of it.'

Heimo thought about it for a while. 'So he decided to even the score by killing the Falkners.'

Sigi said, 'That's why it's complicated. He knew Gerhard and Thomas weren't responsible for his family. But he'd become involved in the criminal stuff. Somewhere along the line, he figured out that if he killed the Falkners he could knock off two vultures with one rock. Revenge, of course, but also it would allow him to get out of the money laundering business and hopefully cover his tracks on what he'd already done.'

Heimo nodded. 'No one left to testify, and the previous transactions were done without his knowledge. Clever. He might have succeeded if it hadn't been for the twins.'

Sigi said, 'They were the X factor. We don't think Paulus ever knew them. And Gerhard and Thomas almost certainly never talked about them.'

'Speaking of them, what happened?'

Gunther and Sigi glanced at each other. Gunther took the lead. 'Elinor was watching. Josef says he was just hiding - too strung out to do anything. Anyway, Elinor saw us come up that track and started shooting. When you made the break from the barrels, Josef says he came to the opening to try to surrender.' He stopped for a moment, reddening. 'Thought he was the shooter, so I put one into him, but low down. Hit his spine unfortunately, and probably paralyzed him.'

Heimo just nodded. Gunther would never kill if he could wound.

'They had Neuroth trussed up in an old blanket, but they hadn't tied her feet. When she saw Josef fall, she took her chance and bailed out the door. Says she didn't know the hay was there, but it's a bloody good thing it was. Might've broken her neck.'

Heimo looked at Gunther for a moment. When he spoke his voice was level. 'And Elinor?'

Gunther's jaw clenched briefly. 'She's dead, Heimo. The two of you fired at the same time. Your shot hit her rifle.'

He took a deep breath. 'I saw you go down. So I shot her in the head.'

The silence lasted a long time, and they didn't look at each other.

Finally Heimo said, 'I think I know why they took Cristina Neuroth, but fill me in.'

Sigi picked up the narrative. 'Best we can tell, it was like this. The twins knew with Thomas dead, they couldn't get their paws on the estate. And because of the drug habits, they needed a lot of money. So, being more than a little crazy, they decide to kidnap Cristina and use her to force Paulus to give them whatever cash from the Falkner accounts he could get his hands on.'

She saw Heimo's eyes roll up.

'Said they were nuts. So they grabbed her and took her to the farm, then called Paulus. He couldn't have gotten any money from those accounts anyway since they're frozen, but I doubt if he even told them. So he got his gun and went hunting again. Maybe he figured it was a good opportunity to get rid of the rest of the family. We don't know exactly what happened when he got there, but it ended with Elinor shooting him. We think Paulus tried to call you just after it happened but passed out.'

She shook her head. 'So the twins are up the creek. They've got Neuroth, but no way to get any money. They don't know if Paulus is dead or just hiding. I reckon they were going to kill her and run. Then you and Gunther showed up, and that probably pushed her over the edge.'

'Josef?'

Gunther said, 'Still in intensive care, but he'll live. Can't interview him yet, but they got a little on the way to the hospital. Cobra boys were pissed off it was all over when they came up. Got an extra ambulance and put you in the first and Josef and Paulus in the second. You know Paulus is dead?'

Heimo nodded. 'Cristina told me.'

'Got Paulus's gun. Confirmed it's the one used on Thomas, and Halegger says he's certain it was also used on Gerhard. No tie-in to Skolnik we can find. Seems to be quite a lot of other shit going on, but it's above my pay grade. Walter will tell you about it.'

Heimo closed his eyes for a moment. 'I don't think the rest of it matters too much. At least to me.'

He looked at his partner for a moment. 'Thanks, by the way. I owe you. And more than one.'

Gunther looked at him steadily. When he spoke, his voice was soft. 'You don't owe me anything, Heimo. It's what we do.'

### Chapter 44

Heimo drained the bottle and wiggled his toes in the water. The sunlight, glancing across the lake's calm water, was working up to a mellow glow in the late afternoon. He scratched the furrow on the side of his head, wondering if the hair would grow back.

Cristina came up behind him. 'Want another beer?'

He shook his head and patted the spot beside him on the dock.

She lowered herself carefully using one hand, still favoring the other even though the cast had been off for a week. She dangled her own feet in the calm water and leaned against him.

'What did Walter want,' she asked.

'Just to keep me informed. Moser has disappeared. And Mehringer stopped by to personally congratulate us.'

'On what?'

'Who knows? Maybe we eliminated some of his problems.'

She squeezed his arm. 'I figured out that you have a thing about Mehringer. Can you talk about it?'

Heimo's eyes traced slowly around the darkening shoreline. He sighed. 'He's responsible for my mother's death.'

She turned to him, eyes wide. 'My God! What happened?'

He rubbed his hands on his trousers and rocked back and forth. 'There was only one ambulance anywhere near where we lived. Mehringer was the mayor at that time. He'd sent the ambulance up to Salzburg to pick up food for a party he was throwing.'

She stared at the lake, absorbing, holding his hand just a little tighter.

Heimo said nothing for a while. 'What are we going to do?'

'About what?'

'About us.'

She turned to look at him. 'Is this about the Huntington's?'

He nodded.

'I don't care, I refuse to make it a problem. I feel the way I feel, and I'm not about to tear that to pieces over something I can't control.'

He didn't answer for a while. 'There's something else, one last little secret I never got around to telling you about.' He raised his head and looked at the sky. 'I have a daughter.'

She watched his face for a moment, then punched him lightly on the arm. 'Veronique and I have already spoken.'

He put his hands up in the air then dropped them, again caught totally off guard. 'How the hell did that happen?'

She smiled. 'We've been in the news. She called the LKA while you were still in hospital. First she talked to Sigi who was more than somewhat surprised. Eventually Veronique got my number. She sounds lovely, but I'll be sure when she gets here tomorrow.'

He stared at the water. 'Why is it only criminals manage to keep secrets? How much does she know?'

Cristina put her hand on top of his. 'Only the public facts. She wanted more, but I told her it was better coming from you. Her mother also knows.'

'But not about the Huntington's?'

'I didn't mention it. But she was frightened, and she rather opened her heart, so I tried to reassure her.' She moved his face gently towards her. 'It will be all right, Heimo. You haven't lost control of your life.'

He rubbed his eyes. 'I'm not sure about that, you know. Since Skolnik's murder, I've been behind the curve on everything. Like the man said, it's been one damn thing after another.'

'But that's not your life - that's everyone else's. You can't put yourself in charge of anyone but you. Not me, not Veronique, not Sigi or Gunther. All we can do is help each other.'

Finally a shamefaced grin lifted the corners of his mouth. 'I think I need a keeper. Know anyone who'd take the job?'

'Yes.'

The sun disappeared gracefully into the lake as they watched.

The End?
About the Author

Having retired after twenty-five years in the military and fifteen years in the IT industry, I finally had the chance to write. Making that happen involved moving my family, three dogs and seven horses to a small farm in Austria that is as far from civilization as we could manage. And we have loved every minute. I hope my affection for our adopted country shows up in the stories about Heimo Kapeller. It is a wonderful place to live.

Thank you for reading my book. I hope you enjoyed it. I would very much appreciate it if you could leave a review with your favorite book retailer.

Other books by the Author

Odyssey Into Darkness (Book Two of the Heimo Kapeller Series)

The Daughter of Patience

Visit Stephen McDaniel's Website

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### Preview of The Next Heimo Kapeller Story

Odyssey Into Darkness

### Chapter 1

They rolled in a gentle morning swell, yoked by the neck, eyeless in the sun but escaped from agony.

The trawler, chugging home after a night of fruitless fishing, was a few meters away before Paolo Abbeddi spotted the two dark shapes. He knew instantly what they were and throttled the ancient engine to idle.

"Ahmed!" he shouted through the open half of the pilot-house window.

The slim youngster heaving at the forward derrick straightened and looked aft.

"Off the port bow." Paolo stuck his arm through the gap and pointed.

Ahmed turned the derrick handle to the bottom and locked it in place. He climbed over the dripping nets piled on the deck and stared at the greasy, green water, head scanning as he searched. He sighted the bodies after a moment and raised his arm, signaling Paolo to sail the boat forward and a little to port.

The engine stuttered as the captain eased it ahead, turning the wheel to miss the shapes by meters but knowing the current set in toward the shore. After a minute he retarded the throttle again.

Ahmed grabbed a grappling hook from the forward locker, checked that the line was securely attached, and waited. As the current arced the trawler inshore, he held the line in one hand with a few meters of slack and heaved the four-pronged steel across the bodies. It splashed into the crest of a swell on the opposite side and sank. Ahmed pulled the line in hand over hand. He felt the hooks catch and stopped for a moment, offering a silent prayer to Allah.

Paolo took his hand off the throttle and echoed the Muslim's reaction with an automatic genuflection to his own deity.

The shapes floated toward the gunwale under the boy's steady pull. When they were near enough, he secured the line around a cleat and picked up a boathook. He captured a loop of the fluorescent orange marine cable that tethered the bodies, then paused and looked back at the captain.

"I can't lift both in, Paolo."

The old seaman waved, throttled up to the lowest speed and sailed away from the rocky shore which drew the boat like a siren. Once he'd balanced the push of the current against the shove of the engine, he removed his phone from his overalls and thumbed a number.

Although the police station on Pantelleria was open, no one except the local islanders would have known it. The door was closed, there were no police cars, and the building was silent. But in an office to the left of the main counter, Primo Capitano Fedele Vaccaro leafed through administrative documents and crime reports from the mainland. He'd finished his first coffee and was halfway through the second as he settled his ample bulk in the leather office chair.

Junk mail from the Italian bureaucracy floated through his hands and into an open desk drawer leaving no impression on his mind. Most of the reports were unenlightening save for the occasional sex scandal. The only part of his brain that was awake checked each item for any mention of the island and disregarded everything else.

When the phone rang, he glanced up, then checked the clock on the wall. Only half-past eight. Frowning, he heaved himself out of the chair and trudged over to the phone.

"Polizia."

Paolo Abbeddi growled, "Good morning, Fedele. We've caught two migrants. Dead ones."

"Where are you?"

"A hundred meters off the old lighthouse at Punto Spadillo."

"Bring them to the police dock and I'll meet you there."

"Can't. The bodies are tied together, and I can't leave the wheel to help Ahmed get them aboard."

"Wonderful. I'll tell Lorenzo to meet you with the launch. Twenty minutes."

Paolo heard the police boat before he saw it. It was modern and powerful, a new design introduced to cope with the flood of North Africans fleeing their own continent. And it had special equipment including a small dive ramp.

The San Marco cut through the low swell, cleaving the waves without effort. Lorenzo Di Mauro, the launch's one and only crewman, throttled back as he neared the trawler and steered to pass on the leeward side. He cut to idle when just a few meters short of the older boat's port side and the launch drifted to a stop.

Ahmed threw a line across and Lorenzo grabbed it and lashed it to a cleat. He went aft to the helm and pressed a green button on the control console. The dive platform, rigged to the launch's port side, slanted out on hydraulic pistons, flattened and sank into the water. It stopped fifty centimeters under the wave crests.

Lorenzo worked the wheel and throttles to sidle the launch toward the trawler. When he judged the position was correct, he tapped the green button again and the dive platform rose to the surface bearing the two sodden shapes.

Skirting around the auxiliary motor that operated the platform, he looked over the gunwale, then reared back. "Mother of God!" he muttered and crossed himself with a reverence he seldom showed at mass.

The docks, almost deserted, glistened in the morning sun as the launch rounded the harbor wall. One old fisherman sat on a piling and watched with sleepy interest as the sleek craft nosed its way through the channel to a mooring with the word 'Polizia' outlined in white on the sea-wet stone quay.

Vaccaro stood by the gangway with thumbs hooked under his paunch, staring into the boat. He couldn't see anything because Di Mauro had covered the bodies with a tarp. An officer on the jetty grabbed the line the helmsman heaved over and secured it to a bollard, then trotted to the aft of the boat and did the same with another line. Di Mauro stepped nimbly over the gunwale and walked up the gangway.

Vaccaro watched, eyes unreadable through his sunglasses. When the launch officer reached him, he searched the weather-beaten face for a moment. "Bad?"

Di Mauro nodded. "Worst I've seen."

They heard the ambulance rumbling down the quay and watched as it stopped a few feet away. The driver, a paramedic in a Red Cross jacket, opened the rear doors to extract a gurney. His passenger, casually dressed in chinos, hoodie and deck shoes, stopped in front of the policemen, surprised by their uneasiness.

"Fedele, Lorenzo, good morning. What's wrong?"

Di Mauro took a long whistling breath. "It's a kid, doc, a boy. Black. He's tied by the neck to a white man. They...they've been tortured." He gulped. "No eyes."

The physician stared. He'd examined a hundred migrants in the last two months, most of them black, all of them emaciated. They'd drowned in the dancing waves of the sunlit Mediterranean. "Are you sure?"

Di Mauro nodded. "And it wasn't the fish that did it."

The paramedic waited with the gurney, and the launch officer helped him bump it over the gangplank to the edge of the boat. He muttered something to the medic who paled, and both stepped onto the launch. Di Mauro pulled the tarp away.

The medic put his hand to his mouth. The doctor joined them, his single expletive puncturing the morning calm.

Together they loaded both corpses onto the gurney and trundled it up to the jetty.

Vaccaro watched the operation without offering help or comment, but when the gurney reached the ambulance, he said, "I must check them, doctor."

He ran his hands over the sparse clothing worn by the white man. The damaged face looked more Arab than anything else, but immersion in seawater had not made his features clearer. Vaccaro found nothing in the clothing. One foot still wore a laced-up shoe. The policeman pulled it off. A small silver case was wedged between the first and second toes. Vaccaro borrowed a latex glove from the paramedic and carefully pulled the object free. They stared at it, but it revealed no secrets to their anxious eyes. He slid it into a plastic bag.

There was nothing to be found on the boy. He was coal black, perhaps ten years old, naked, and someone with a yen for sadism had worked on him for some time.

Vaccaro waved the gurney into the ambulance and turned away. He stared out to sea for a time, silent but raging inside. Just before he turned back, he saw Abbeddi's trawler chugging up to the breakwater.
