The Mammoth Book Best International Crime Page 37
“Look at my sign,” he repeated and he sounded nearly sulky. “Seven hundred euros.”
“Fine, I’ll go over to the cash machine, pull a few notes and this kerfuffle is over?”
“I don’t think there will be enough money in the cash machine.”
“Why?”
“Do you know how much 22.3 billion litres of water represents?” he countered with another question. “I will tell you: it is 700 litres per second pouring through our pumps so we don’t drown. And that is exactly my exchange rate – 700 euros for every second we are negotiating.”
He picked up the stopwatch from under his seat. “And that is now already four minutes and forty-seven seconds gone. Over my big thumb that makes over 200,000 euros with a tendency to increase.”
“And why should we pay you this sum?” I asked.
“Because I am giving you no other choice.”
He got something out of the chest pocket of his jacket that looked from afar like a plastic lighter with the big difference that it had a blinking diode at its end.
“Should you make me wait too long for the money I will ignite the fuse.” Benny grinned. “And, at the latest, after one hour, meaning at 2,520,000 euros.”
I registered hectic movement behind me. I knew Hartmann had positioned a number of snipers on the opposite roofs and behind the opened doors of police cruisers parked in a V-shape at a secure distance from the row of shops.
“Benny, we have already cleared the whole pedestrian area as well as all the surrounding houses,” I said calmingly avoiding negative words like death, dying or hostage. “When you press that button you will only hurt yourself.”
Benny laughed as if I’d made the joke of the century.
“You are so wrong. You all think I am the one all cabled up, eh? Ok, right, I am. But I am not the only one who’s going to die. Oh no, the whole city will go to pot.”
“That you will have to explain to me please,” I asked. “How are you going to achieve that?”
Benny sniffed up the snot in his nose. “Listen to me, man. I have installed a number of explosive charges at critical points. When they go off all nine pumps will break down. Irreparably. At once. After the floods of the last few days the run off is filled to the brim. Ask the mayor how long it will take for Bergkamen to drown.”
He laughed again.
“You may have enough time to evacuate the city. But nobody will be able to come back. That would make no sense with everything having been destroyed. So hurry up, Adam. If I don’t get my money in one hour at the latest I will turn Bergkamen into a second New Orleans. It just will be a little wetter.”
After Benny had ended the conversation I returned to the bank where Hartmann welcomed me with a facial expression I had seen once before on Tania’s face. When she showed me the earring she had found between the seats of our couch. Sadly it was not one that she had been missing.
“What kind of fucking shit is going on here?” Hartmann asked and now he even sounded like my ex-wife. One of his assistants passed me a lukewarm coffee. I took off my dripping jacket and hung it over the back of an office chair.
“You tell me,” I answered and looked at the plasma screen TV on the wall which usually showed filmed ads or silent stock market news to the waiting customers. Now jerky aerial pictures of the pedestrian zone flickered across the machine. The pictures must have come from the news helicopter which right this second was hovering high above our heads.
“Is it true what Benny has told us? Can he really drown the city?”
“Theoretically he can!”
I turned to the new voice at my back and looked at a familiar face. Roland Schäfer smiled like on his campaign poster, shook my hand and sat down with us.
“You want to know if he can take the whole city hostage.”
I nodded.
“I am afraid I have to say he can. It has been raining for a week non-stop now. If the pumps in Beverbach Rünthe or even the one in Kuhbach break down we are screwed. Whole city blocks will be flooded possibly all the way down to Hamm. The cellars will be flooded for sure and the houses will become uninhabitable over time. Obviously depending on whether the terrorist has found a way to disable the pumps for good.”
“For example if he blows them up?” I asked and had a sip of the ochre-coloured coffee.
“We are currently checking all the stations,” said Hartmann. “We haven’t found anything suspicious so far.” He rubbed his eyes with the thumb and index finger of his right hand and I wondered if he suffered from migraines or wore contact lenses. Maybe he’d just had a bad night’s sleep.
“What are you suggesting?” he asked without looking up. I waited a few seconds before I answered.
“Well, here we have the very special case of a suicide provocation combined with the threat of a terrorist attack. The perpetrator wants to blow himself up and at the same time make more than 50,000 people homeless. Oddly enough he is making no effort to hide his identity which normally hints at an idealistic, political motivation. Still, he is making clear financial demands. Is he actually organized in a cell?”
“No, not that we are aware. As I said, amongst us Benny Senner was always called Benny Nutter.” Hartmann put a pencil advertising the bank in the corner of his mouth. “Illegal entry of someone’s house, disorderly conduct and disturbance of the peace, those are the things he would normally do. But he has never harmed any humans.”
“But somehow our harmless little Benny has managed to get hold of Semtex,” I reminded him.
“Yes, but I don’t believe that he would put others in danger and has hidden bombs around the pump stations.”
I nodded. “I actually agree with you on that.”
Hartmann’s pencil moved to the other corner of his mouth and he raised his eyebrows with surprise. “So he is only bluffing?”
“No, I believe he has placed the bombs somewhere else.”
I saw how the mayor wanted to say something but I wouldn’t let him interrupt me.
“I have just spoken a few words with Benny but in the short time he has repeatedly used the words “electricity” and “run” and has cursed the “power plants”. On top of that he has been working on renewable energy as part of his studies.” I rose and now alternately spoke to Hartmann and the mayor. “Obviously he is not just after the money. Of course he wants to make a statement. That’s what all this sensationalist production is all about. And he doesn’t just want to hit Bergkamen but also the “bigwigs” as he calls them. That’s why I am going on the assumption that he will hit two birds with one stone.” I paused knowing that all the other officers in hearing distance were giving me their full attention. “Through his studies he knows very well how a power station works. He will interrupt the electric current to the pump stations. Probably he will just blow up some power masts, destroy overhead cables or make transformer stations break down.”
Hartmann paled. One could practically see how the thought of all the potential targets was working through his brain.
“And what are we supposed to do now? His ultimatum runs out in thirty-two minutes.” The mayor grabbed a calculator. “So in 1,344,000 euros.”
I threw a confirming look at the greenish display of the calculator. Schäfer was just about to calculate the maximum amount up to the end of Benny’s sixty-minute-ultimatum and reached 2.52 million euros.
Hartmann grabbed the radio and rose as well.
“Team A, how is it looking?” he asked and turned his back to me. Behind the window I could see a wrapped-up SEK agent standing in the forecourt raise his hand briefly.
“Good to go,” was the quiet response from Hartmann’s radio. “All men are in position.”
“I wouldn’t do that,” I wished to avoid a possible storming. Hartmann turned to me and threw me an irritated look. “You have just told me that you think the perpetrator is dangerous. Should I wait until he puts his threat into action?”
“No.”
“So what?”
Now Hartmann was laughing as if I had suggested giving Gertrud Dobkowitz a machine gun so she could lead the storming.
“You have lost your mind,” he said in the familiar tone of voice of my ex-wife.
“Listen to me,” I said as calmly as possible. “The offender is very methodical and follows a plan. That means he is no impulsive psychopath. But we have one clear advantage. He has no clear exit strategy.”
“Which means . . .?”
“Which means that he cannot do anything with the money. Look at him.” I pointed to the security monitor which was still capturing the shop window. Benny was just rolling up the right leg of his trousers. Even from here one could see that his fingers were shaking.
“That is no killer. He is unsure and getting more and more nervous. He has never done anything this big. I am sure I can negotiate him out of this. But to do that I need time. And I will only get that if I have something up my sleeve the next time I go to him.”
Twenty-two minutes and therefore 924,000 euros later I approached the shop window again. I hadn’t been wrong. Benny was sweating, his Palestinian scarf lay carelessly next to his chair and he was no longer grinning when he saw me. Even though I was carrying a black briefcase and he had to know what was in it. He nervously touched his neck and started slowly to massage it. With the other hand he pulled his mobile from his trouser pocket. Shortly after my phone rang.
“How much?” he asked shortly.
“Nearly two million. The bank couldn’t get more together at such short notice.”
That was no lie. It was a miracle that even so much had come together. All branches of the area surrounding the Nordberg had put their money transporter into the field in the last twenty minutes.
“Aha,” said Benny in a tone of voice that gave no indication if he agreed or was just about to pull the plug. After all, with this sum we were more than 100,000 euros behind his demands and the stopwatch at his feet was still running.
“What do we do now?” I asked as friendly as possible.
“Take the radio from your ear.”
“Shit,” commented Hartmann on Benny’s order. It was the last thing I was going to hear from the chief over the radio.
“It’s done,” I confirmed and lifted the briefcase. “Do you want me to come to you now?”
“Yes. But first take your mobile and remove the battery.”
I could practically feel how behind me Hartmann was pummelling his desk furiously.
“Don’t piss yourselves, boys,” I said before I hung up. “I am the one walking into danger.” I pulled the batteries from the phone and put both on the wet walkway. Then I walked slowly with raised hands towards the shop window. The two million had been split up into six bundles that weighed no more than a small paperback book. Still the briefcase pulled my arm down as if it was dumbbell.
The shop door was open. On the inside the empty shop greeted me with a smell of dust, sweat and fear. Now, close up I realized that Benny would not last another five minutes. Child’s play for a negotiator like me.
“How is it going?” I asked him.
“Not so good.” He answered and cleared his throat. “Is the money really in there?”
“Yes.” I opened the briefcase. For the first time movement came into his skinny body. He walked to the window and pressed a small switch on the frame of the window without leaving me out of his sight. There was a creaky noise and the outside shutters came down.
“Enough with the theatrics,” he said and waved at the headquarters across the road.
When nobody could see us from the outside he turned to me and nervously pushed his hand through his hair. “Ok, and what do we do now?”
“As planned,” I said and looked at my watch. Then I put the briefcase at his feet and took out the first bundle of money.
“Turn around,” I ordered him and put it in one of his many outside pockets.
“As soon as I have put the dosh into your pockets you walk outside and wait until all the cameras have you in their sights.”
“I understand; I want everybody to hear what I have to say.”
“Exactly.”
Luckily, Benny was only manically nervous but not totally nuts. We had been over all of this for hours. For weeks. The whole world would find out about the damage done by mining, damage that would last forever and from which you could not avert your eyes. Not now when in China an even worse ruinous exploitation with a complete disregard for humans and the environment was taking place.
“As soon as you have put yourself into position in front of the press call this number.” I stowed away the last bundle of money and then passed him the piece of paper on which I had written
Hartmann’s number.
“What should I say?”
“Say: ‘I am doing all this for Bergkamen’,” I demanded. “Nothing else. For anything else there will be enough time later when they are interrogating you. Then you give them back the two million and tonight at the latest everybody will know that you are neither a terrorist nor a thief.”
“And the whole world will know the exchange rate,” grinned Benny. “Seven-hundred litres of water every second. Man, it is really time that somebody wakes up before they build more coal power stations.”
“That it is.”
I closed the briefcase and gave him a hug.
“Man, this has been real fun,” he laughed nervously. “Thank you for helping me to pull this off. I will be glad when I can take this bomb dummy off again. It itches furiously under the tee-shirt.”
I grinned and ruffled his hair. During the year of preparation I had grown fond of this nut case. Of course it was no coincidence that he approached me. There are not many police negotiators whose fathers had been killed in a mining accident.
“The ultimatum is running out,” I told him and pointed at the door. “Go outside and finish it.”
For a moment I had the impression that he was moving away from me in slow motion. Slowly, gangly but with an energetic walk. He was a warrior walking into his final battle; an idealist who despite his young age carried so much anger that he would sacrifice his whole future for a war that could not be won. I respected his courage, courage that I would never be able to show. But I did what I could, showing them where their mining has led them. The mining that had killed my father.
While Benny opened the door and stepped out into the pouring rain I moved further back into the shop. There was no back door through which I could have escaped. Only a little shed with a sink and a toilet. I felt that Benny was just about to dial Hartmann’s number when I crouched under the sink. Then I looked at the watch. Only ten seconds then the ultimatum would run out.
Outside I heard how Benny screamed the agreed sentence.
“I am doing all this for Bergkamen.”
Then, two seconds early, a massive explosion not only shredded the shutters and the shop window but also the upper half of Benjamin Senner.
Later, after the initial chaos had died down, the few injured onlookers had been looked at and the death of the obviously mentally ill offender had been officially established I was on my way back to Lisa’s birthday. With a little luck I would make it for coffee and cake. The magic trick I would not perform. I had done enough of those today. Obviously the burnt money found on the suicide attacker had not been the full sum. While Benny had had his back turned to me I had put the same bundle over and over again into his pockets. Benny had been far too nervous to realize that he didn’t even have 100,000 euros on him, of which a few notes had been flying very effectively through the pedestrian zone after the detonation. The images would rule the news tonight: environmental activist blows himself up in protest against mining damages.
I switched on the indicator for the motorway junction and happily felt for the money bundles in my jacket pocket. Nearly two million for four hours of work. How lucky that this idealist had asked me of all people if I would support him in this mad protest. His
biggest worry had been that he would be taken out by the special forces before he could say his thing to the cameras. And he hadn’t been so wrong as it had taken all my persuasive skills to stop Hartmann from storming the shop.
I switched on the radio on and sped up to The Winner Takes It All.
Well yes, many think I am an asshole. Quite possibly I am one.
But please don’t say now that I didn’t warn you in the beginning.
Translation by Tina Everitt
An Urban Legend Puzzle
Norizuki Rintar
1.
“What would you think of a message that said, ‘Aren’t you glad you didn’t turn on the light?’ This wasn’t spoken, but a sentence written by hand.”
“ ‘. . . didn’t turn on the light’ . . .?” Rintar cocked his head. “I’ve heard that phrase somewhere. Is this a quiz or something?”
“No, it concerns a homicide I’m investigating. Late Monday night, a university student was stabbed to death in a one-room apartment in Matsubara, Setagaya Ward. Those words were inscribed in blood, in an unsteady hand, on the wall of the crime scene. Of course it was the victim’s blood.”
“Letters in blood on the wall of the crime scene?”
Inspector Norizuki nodded, his expression serious. It was a weekend night and he’d changed into his pajamas and was enjoying his after-dinner cigarette.
Rintar shook his head. “Come on! You can’t fool me that that’s a case you’re working on now. It’s a famous urban legend.”
“A famous what?”
“Urban legend. That’s what sensational rumors that are spread by word of mouth are called. People claim that they’re true stories heard from a friend of a friend. Some of these are standard occult or ghost stories, while others have their roots in celebrity scandals or strange cases involving vicious crimes. The story you’ve heard is one of the more popular ones, Father.”
“Wait a second.” Inspector Norizuki looked bewildered. “You’ve actually heard tell of such a case before this?”
“Yes, I have. And when you say ‘actually,’ I think you’re just trying to pretend innocence because I’ve blown your cover.”