Broken Glass Read online

  ‘Any witnesses?’

  The policeman shook his head. ‘No, but there’s CCTV footage and you can see the offender was carrying a weapon. He looks about one metre eighty tall and around ninety kilograms. He was dressed completely in black and wore a balaclava over his face. He put the money into a blue plastic bag and drove away eastwards.’

  ‘Is a police search already underway?’

  The officer nodded. ‘The description went out to all patrol cars. We might still find him.’

  ‘Thanks,’ said Nik. He went over to his bag, took out an expensive camera and started taking photos.

  ‘Are you going to take DNA samples?’ asked the manager.

  What a stupid fucking idea, Nik thought to himself. He noticed the man’s red eyes. He clearly wasn’t used to working the night shift and it was obvious he’d downed something much stronger than coffee to keep himself awake. He kept his shaky hands hidden behind his back.

  ‘Too many people coming and going around here for that, I’m afraid,’ explained Nik patiently. ‘But I’ll be taking fingerprints from the objects that were touched by the offender.’

  ‘We’ve got a witness,’ Danilo called over, pointing towards a middle-aged man whose face was covered in acne scars. ‘Tell us what you saw,’ he said.

  ‘I was walking past the petrol station on my way home when I saw a man with a plastic bag running out. He had a gun in his left hand, so I pressed myself up close to a big lamppost and tried to keep myself hidden. I saw the guy racing past me in a dark blue Opel not long after.’

  ‘Did you get the registration number?’

  ‘Of course,’ said the man, smiling proudly.

  Danilo returned the smile and nodded for him to continue. They’d trace the number to the car owner and by lunch, the special task force would have already raided his flat. Case solved.

  While Danilo was daydreaming about the praise he would get from his boss, Nik fished out a laptop. He went into a back room and logged on to the free Wi-Fi, which luckily wasn’t password protected.

  As long as Nik remembered to delete the cache from the browser after he’d finished, Danilo wouldn’t be able to see which sites he’d been on. He also ran the CCTV footage from the night before so it at least looked like he was doing some work.

  Jon had given him little information on Viola. A photo, her date of birth and her last known address. Despite Nik’s repeated questioning, he’d not told him why he wanted him to look into this case, nor what his connection to Viola was. For all Nik knew, Jon could just be bored and fancied himself as a detective. But whatever the case, the missing woman was of secondary importance to Nik right now. First, he needed to find out more about Jon. He’d taken his fingerprints from the beer bottle yesterday so he could enter them into the system along with the ones from today’s scene. That might bring up the first clue to his identity.

  Jonathan was probably his real name. He was in his early thirties and was good with computers. He didn’t come from Munich. He didn’t even come from Bayern. To begin with he’d spoken perfect High German, but the more he spoke, the more he slipped back into his old habits. He had a slightly nasal intonation, like people from the Ruhr area. But it was obvious he’d lived in Munich for a good while, as he seemed familiar with local clubs and bars.

  Nik considered some possibilities. Jon had probably come from the Ruhr to study IT at the Technical University of Munich, or the TUM as it’s known, and after that he must have ended up sticking around in the Bavarian metropolis. He didn’t seem to be your typical developer, shut away in a room working for some large corporation, being told what to do. Rather, he seemed more accustomed to giving the orders. It was possible he’d progressed rapidly in his career or he’d founded a start-up.

  Nik typed everything he knew about Jon into the search engine. There was a whole array of Jonathans from the Ruhr who’d tried to make it in Munich but none of them seemed to match the blackmailer’s description. Nik realised it was highly likely that Jon would have deleted anything compromising about himself from the internet. So a search was probably pointless. But then, fifteen minutes later, Nik came across a TUM article from nine years back about a new lecturer and his group of student assistants, one of whom was a certain Jonathan Kirchhof.

  The man was quite young and slim and had barely any facial hair. But then, partly hidden under a dark grey woollen hat, Nik recognised a pair of familiar eyes.

  ‘Hello, dickhead,’ Nik said, pleased with himself.

  It was easy after that. Although Jon’s specialisation had been cryptology, it was his work as one of Germany’s first programmers for games apps that had made him famous. With the arrival of the iPhone, these programmers were getting rich, and three years after forming his own company, he sold it to an American firm for a massive seven-figure sum. And after that, he pretty much went off the radar. There were a couple of presentations at symposiums, normally at the Chaos Communication Congress, and then an alumni gathering at the TUM. But year by year, the articles about Jon became more and more scarce. And, as of 2016, there were none. Nik searched for a home address, an email address, a telephone number. But none of the results matched.

  He hurriedly finished writing up his notes. At least now he knew more about the man he was up against, and hopefully he’d be able to find a connection to Viola in the files from Tilo. And if Jon’s address also happened to turn up, then his new acquaintance would be getting an unexpected visitor.

  Chapter 2

  Nik had finished his shift and was driving out of the CID car park when his phone rang.

  ‘Listen, I’m going to try and talk you out of this one more time,’ said Tilo as soon as Nik picked up.

  ‘Why? What’s so bad about it?’

  ‘It’s nothing to do with the case. I just don’t like the fact you’re working on your own.’

  ‘I’ll behave this time,’ Nik reassured him.

  Tilo sighed loudly. ‘Mate, you’re killing me.’

  ‘Did you put the files in my letterbox?’

  ‘Copies of them.’

  ‘Thank you.’

  ‘Tomorrow you’ll tell me exactly what you’re gonna do with them and don’t you dare start anything without telling me.’

  ‘I won’t,’ Nik lied.

  ‘Well, good luck.’ Tilo hung up.

  When Nik got home, he immediately opened his letterbox, took out a brown envelope and headed upstairs to his flat. He cleared away two empty beer bottles from the coffee table in front of his couch, sat himself down and spread out the files.

  Viola’s disappearance had been recorded by a CID colleague on 26 October and was then passed over to the crime squad. Viola’s parents were worried because they hadn’t heard from her in a long time and she wasn’t in her flat. Her psychology lecturer confirmed she’d not been to the last two lectures. Two days later, a search was launched but then, on 29 October, her parents received a letter from her stating that she’d left Munich and would not be coming back. They had confirmed it was Viola’s handwriting and the letter included a reference to Viola’s childhood that only she and her parents could have known about. As a result, it was decided the letter was genuine and the case was closed. Nothing strange so far.

  Before 26 October 2016, Viola’s name had never been registered in the CID system. Her record didn’t have any links to criminals or drugs, or to any other offences.

  Her life story turned out to be equally uneventful. Born in Munich in 1987, she left school to become a secretary at a car parts supplier. She finished her apprenticeship and worked in the job for three years until 2012, when she started a degree in psychology at Ludwig Maximilian University. At the time of her disappearance she was living in a flat with a friend. It wasn’t the best part of Munich, but it certainly wasn’t the worst either.

  Nik looked at her photo. She had long brown hair that fell below her shoulders, but it was her light green eyes and beautiful smile that really stood out, and both were enhanced perfectly by the
blonde streaks in her hair and red lipstick. She wasn’t classically pretty: her nose was too pointy and her chin was too strong, but there was a confident maturity about her that was very attractive and made her seem older than her years. There was nothing to suggest she was the type to just up and leave without saying anything to anyone. Obviously, she wouldn’t have been the first woman to be tempted away by some rich, handsome man, but her history suggested she was a straightforward woman who valued security and consistency.

  Nik put his laptop on the table and started to search for information about Viola. Results came up for a student portal where she’d answered questions in her first semester at university. Her Facebook profile was only visible to friends, but he was able to collect some information from some short posts. Viola took her studies seriously, and in the autumn of 2015 she had completed a work placement at an organisation that provided free school meals to children. There were photos of her at university parties, but none where she was falling down drunk or in embarrassing situations. She was a vegetarian and a member of a cooking group that collected the addresses of regional vegetable suppliers. All in all, her life was hardly exciting, but she had her interests and plans for the future. So why make such a drastic cut?

  There seemed to be no link to Jon. He wasn’t in a single photo and his name wasn’t mentioned once. Viola didn’t have any connections to the Ruhr and Jon had never had anything to do with psychology. He was two years older than her. He’d gone to school in North Rhine-Westphalia and there was nothing to suggest Viola had ever been there.

  Nik walked over to the wall where he had pinned a large map of Munich. He stuck a red pin on Leopoldpark, near the psychology faculty at Ludwig Maximilian University, and placed another green pin further down at the TUM’s Faculty for Information Technology on Theresienstraße. Considering the size of Munich, the distance between the two wasn’t that great but it was still too long a trip to make regularly on foot. And anyway, Jon had already finished his degree when Viola started her first semester.

  Nik kicked one of the beer bottles he’d placed on the floor. It smashed loudly against the living room wall, but, deep in thought, he ignored it. As long as Jon still had that video of Jennifer, Nik would have to play by his rules. Jon had made it clear that night in the bar that he’d given Nik all the information he needed. Apparently it was none of Nik’s business why Jon was looking for Viola and there was no point in trying to get more out of him. So what exactly was Jon’s role in all of this?

  Was he the jealous lover who wanted his girlfriend back? Very unlikely, otherwise Nik would have found at least one photo of them together. Was it possible that their paths had crossed through Jon’s work? He couldn’t see why. There was nothing in their interests that seemed to overlap, not even work. But, he supposed, it was possible. Was it likely that a woman like Viola could have been caught up in some sort of industrial espionage? Tech companies were always in competition with each other after all, and maybe Viola led a secret double life, and her good-girl exterior was the perfect cover? Nik shook his head impatiently. He was being ridiculous.

  But, that aside, supposing Jon was responsible for Viola’s disappearance, it was possible that he was using Nik to find and deal with any remaining traces. He sighed. The case had already been closed, so that didn’t make any sense. Perhaps Jon was worried that Viola had been killed during a crime. But he’d checked the police database and, since October, there hadn’t been any unidentified bodies that matched Viola’s description.

  Nik grabbed a beer from the fridge and slumped back on to the couch. He switched on the television. He needed a night to mull everything over but then tomorrow, he’d be sure to make good use of his CID badge while he still had it.

  After his shift he’d go and visit Viola’s parents.

  Nik normally couldn’t care less what witnesses thought about his appearance but today he needed to make a good impression. When he got home from work, he took a proper shower, washed his hair and dug out a clean shirt from the depths of his wardrobe. Everything could have done with a press and his boots were still untied, but it was his best attempt at the eligible bachelor look.

  Oswald and Ines Rohe started to shake when Nik showed them his badge. Their first assumption was that it was bad news.

  ‘It’s just a routine visit,’ Nik said reassuringly. ‘We regularly check in on old cases just to see if anything’s happened that we should know about.’

  Frau Rohe invited him inside. It was a simple flat that looked like it hadn’t been decorated since the 1980s. The living room was carpeted and dominated by dark wooden furniture. In front of an old TV stood a three-piece suite. Nik sat down on one of the chairs while the wife brought him a cup of tea before sitting down on the couch. Her long grey hair was tied up in a bun. She smoothed down her hair and reached over for her husband’s hand.

  ‘How can we help you?’ Herr Rohe asked.

  ‘Most importantly: have you heard from Viola at all?’

  The man shook his head while his wife looked at the floor, trying hard not to cry. Nik felt a flash of sympathy.

  ‘I’m sorry to bring all this up again but I need to know more about the time leading up to your daughter’s disappearance. The information in my colleague’s report is very vague.’ He took a notepad out of his bag. ‘Did Viola seem in any way different towards the end of October 2016?’

  ‘Viola might have been a bit stubborn and single-minded but those were really her strengths as well,’ said Herr Rohe. ‘If she wanted something, she would make sure she got it. She was working at a car parts supplier, but she didn’t like it so decided to start a degree in psychology. Not an easy decision. We couldn’t be of much support . . . you know . . . with the pensions we’re on and she didn’t want to move back in with us. So she had to sacrifice a lot for it all. But she did it. And that’s why we can’t understand why she would just leave it all behind.’

  ‘Was she worried about anything in particular? Had you perhaps had an argument with her?’

  ‘We didn’t see her very often because she was either in class or studying or working. But when she did come over, everything was great. She loved my wife’s cooking and would normally stay late.’

  ‘Where did Viola spend her time when she wasn’t here or studying at the university? Did she have any hobbies?’

  ‘She would go running with friends in the English Garden. And . . . sometimes she went to the theatre. But she didn’t really have enough time for a regular hobby.’

  ‘You mentioned she also spent a lot of time working. What was Viola’s job during uni?’

  ‘Well, because she had classes during the day, she took on a job in a bar,’ explained Frau Rohe.

  ‘In a nightclub called The Palace,’ added the husband. ‘It’s near the main station.’

  ‘I know the one,’ said Nik, noting down the name. The Palace was one of Munich’s trendier clubs. It had a strict door policy and a varied clientele ranging from B-list celebrities to shady characters on the lookout for new customers, be it for coke or prostitutes. The nightclub was definitely something to look into.

  ‘Did she have a long-term boyfriend?’

  Frau Rohe gave a long sigh. ‘Not since the whole thing with Volker.’

  ‘I’m sorry?’

  ‘Are you joking?’ asked Herr Rohe, irritated. ‘You are from the Munich CID, aren’t you?’

  ‘Yes,’ replied Nik, wondering why the atmosphere had suddenly turned so sour.

  ‘And the name Volker Ufer means nothing to you?’

  ‘No.’ Nik was perplexed. He had a photographic memory and could always remember names. He’d never heard the name Volker Ufer before and he certainly hadn’t read anything about him in Viola’s file.

  Frau Rohe placed her hand on her husband’s arm, trying to console him. He took two deep breaths and managed to compose himself. ‘Volker Ufer was a drug dealer. He was arrested in the spring of 2016 and given a three-year prison sentence that he’s still serving.
’

  ‘And he was friends with your daughter?’

  The wife nodded, ashamed.

  ‘Do you know how she got friendly with that kind of man?’

  ‘They met through Viola’s old job. He used to work at a garage,’ explained Herr Rohe. ‘He’d use the job to find rich new customers. Apparently, he dealt cocaine.’

  ‘Did Viola not notice?’

  ‘Volker was a handsome, charming man,’ Frau Rohe said sadly. ‘He was always very smartly dressed and drove an expensive car. But he was never, you know . . . arrogant. He came across well and had good manners.’

  ‘And was Viola there when he got arrested?’

  Herr Rohe nodded. ‘Not only that. He told the police that she’d been selling drugs with him.’

  ‘And what happened after that?’

  ‘It was a horrible time for all of us, but in the end, there was no evidence to support Volker’s accusations and all the charges against Viola were dropped.’

  Nik tapped his pen on the notepad. Having a drug dealer in the picture put a whole new complexion on the case. He would need to rethink everything. But first of all, he needed to find out more about this Volker Ufer. Nik clapped the notebook shut and stood up. ‘Thank you for your time.’ He nodded to the couple. ‘I’ll be in touch as soon as I have anything new on Viola’s whereabouts.’

  Herr Rohe walked him to the door. Although he said goodbye politely, Nik could tell from the man’s face that he’d given up any hope of seeing his daughter again.

  As soon as he left the Rohes’ front door, he took out his phone and dialled Tilo’s number. It rang three times before his colleague picked up. ‘Are you taking the piss?’ Nik began.

  ‘Good evening to you too, Nik,’ said Tilo.

  ‘Viola’s last boyfriend was a cocaine dealer who very nearly got her locked up. Why isn’t that mentioned in the file?’

  ‘How should I know?’ replied Tilo. ‘I gave you copies of everything I found.’