Broken Glass Read online

  ‘There has to be a cross reference somewhere.’

  ‘There wasn’t.’

  ‘Then look harder.’

  ‘Bugger off, Nik. I’m not just sitting around all day in the office waiting for you to call. And it’s not my fault if our colleagues don’t do their work properly.’

  ‘Then get me everything you can on this guy. His name is Volker Ufer. He was picked up in spring 2016 and is serving a three-year sentence.’

  ‘I’ll see what I can find in the morning,’ said Tilo, clearly annoyed.

  ‘In the morning?’

  ‘It’s 10 p.m., Nik. You might not believe it, but I actually have a private life and I’m not going back to the office just to look for some stupid fucking file. For a case that’s already been closed!’

  For a moment, Nik was tempted to drive over to the station and look everything up himself. But that would have been pretty much the same as announcing his private investigation on the bulletin board.

  ‘Speak to you tomorrow.’ Nik hung up.

  He got into his car and closed the door. There had only been a few times in his life when he’d embarrassed himself like he had in front of Viola’s parents. He was impatient to see what Volker Ufer’s file would hold, but it looked like he’d have to wait. He made his way over to the A9 with his siren on. He needed to blow off some steam before going to bed and a little spin on the motorway would do the trick.

  Despite having the following day off, Nik was up early. He left Tilo in peace until 9 a.m. and then started calling every thirty minutes until his enraged colleague sent him an email from his private account during his lunch break. The email contained scans of Volker Ufer’s file. It was, of course, a gross misconduct of staff regulations but Tilo was high enough up the food chain at Munich’s specialist crime division that he’d survive if anyone found out.

  The majority of Volker’s file focused on his drug dealing, his contacts and his customers. The surveillance report and court transcript were included but they didn’t tell him much. The only papers Nik read more closely were those about the arrest.

  Viola had unfortunately decided to spend the night at Volker’s and was still at his home the next day. After being picked up by the police, the two were separated. She was held in custody and on that same day, she had to stand before the court. Luckily, the surveillance operation had been in place for a long time before the arrest and there was no evidence to show Viola had been involved in the dealing. The fact that Volker had also had two other girlfriends played in her favour and, in the end, she wasn’t charged. She was, however, interrogated numerous times and it can’t have been easy for her to find out about Volker’s cheating.

  The dealer was still sitting in jail and Viola hadn’t been involved, meaning Nik could rule out revenge from suppliers, two of whom had also been arrested as part of the investigation. Volker Ufer wasn’t going to be of any use to the investigation. He would have to follow his second clue and pay The Palace a visit.

  Nik sighed and took a beer from the fridge. He hated that kind of club. They were too loud, too expensive and the drinks were never cold enough. Even if he put on his best clothes, he knew he didn’t stand a chance of getting past the bouncers, so he’d just have to show up as police on an official investigation. A dangerous game. If a club employee called up the station asking to confirm his identity, Nik would be out on the street by the morning. And he was going to have to behave if he wanted to avoid any complaints. He’d have to be the polite, no-nonsense officer, and that was never the most effective way of getting someone to tell the truth. The travel clock on top of the fridge said 9.52 p.m. He’d wasted the whole day studying the files on Volker’s arrest. Nik finished off his beer and slipped into the clothes he’d had on the day before. He pulled his least worn-out leather jacket over his shirt and headed to the U-Bahn. Slipping on the icy street, Nik’s temper rose and he screamed at a driver who almost ran him over on a zebra crossing.

  The entrance to The Palace was nothing spectacular. Just a metal door and a neon sign with the name of the club on it. Beside the door stood two men and a woman, probably in their forties, each holding a clipboard. The men were about a foot bigger than Nik. They were broad, muscular guys, but they didn’t come across as meatheads. They weren’t wearing gold chains, their haircuts were pretty standard and their jackets looked like they’d been made to measure. When they turned people away, they did so in a quiet and considerate manner without any threatening gestures. The woman appeared business-like. She sized up every new face meticulously and was friendly towards those she knew, greeting them with a smile and a welcoming gesture. But when she thought nobody was looking, her façade would crack and her expression would turn hollow. It seemed pretty clear she hated her job and was bored out of her mind.

  Nik sneaked in from the side while she greeted an older man who was clearly a regular. As she turned to Nik, he was already holding up his badge in front of him.

  ‘Good evening,’ he began. ‘Munich CID.’ He avoided giving her his name. ‘Do you have a moment?’ The woman nodded, clearly surprised, and moved a couple of steps to the side with Nik.

  ‘Are you the nightclub manager?’ he continued.

  ‘His assistant.’ She shook his hand. ‘Natalja Nowara. What’s this about?’

  ‘We’re investigating a case in which a former employee of yours might have been involved. Viola Rohe.’

  ‘Viola?’ the woman repeated. ‘I haven’t seen her in months.’

  ‘How long exactly?’

  ‘Can’t say. One day she just stopped coming to work. She didn’t respond to emails and her mobile just went to voicemail.’ She turned towards the entrance as though she was scared somebody might notice her talking. ‘Has something happened?’

  ‘I’m not allowed to discuss any details.’ Nik avoided the question. ‘But perhaps you could take me to the manager? He might be able to help.’ The hollow expression had returned. Maybe she felt offended or she didn’t like the request but finally she nodded and led Nik around to a door at the back of the building. Using a key to unlock it, she ushered Nik in. The music hit him like a tonne of bricks. He could feel the bass in the pit of his stomach and he resisted the urge to cover his ears. A stairway led from the back door down to the club. A large swarm of people crowded around a wooden bar, all waiting on drinks that were being mixed by three bartenders. Natalja took Nik into an office where the music was considerably quieter. The room had a large glass panel that looked out on to the dance floor. A man of about fifty sat at a large chrome desk. He had a fake tan and the uneven hair growth on his receding hairline indicated he’d had a transplant. Other than that, he was pleasantly free of clichés. He wore a dark brown suit and a white shirt without a tie. His Glashütte watch looked expensive but not showy and his cufflinks were a tasteful white gold. As Natalja walked through the door, he looked up from his paperwork. Nik had perfected the art of reading upside down for moments like this and when he got nearer to the table, he could read last month’s figures. The five-digit figure under ‘Profits’ suggested business was going well.

  The man inspected Nik before looking questioningly at Natalja.

  ‘He’s from the Munich CID.’

  Nik moved closer to the desk and shook the manager’s hand. ‘Nik Pohl,’ he said. Not providing a name at this stage would have been tricky.

  ‘Peer Weise,’ responded the man, gesturing towards a leather seat in front of his desk. ‘Has something happened in the club?’

  ‘We don’t know yet,’ replied Nik. He always preferred using ‘we’ in this kind of situation to give the impression a large group of investigators was on the case. ‘What do you know about the whereabouts of Viola Rohe?’

  ‘Viola? She hasn’t worked here for a long time. And I haven’t seen her here in her spare time either. Is she missing?’

  ‘I need to speak to Frau Rohe and we can’t get hold of her at her registered address.’ Nik avoided answering another question.


  ‘I could get you her contact details from our computer system if you want?’ suggested Weise.

  ‘Like I said,’ added Nowara, ‘one day she was here, and then the next, she just never came back to work. She didn’t say why. She didn’t get in touch at all.’

  ‘Did anything out of the ordinary happen on her last day at work?’

  The woman shook her head.

  ‘We never had any problems with Viola,’ Weise explained.

  ‘Do you happen to have CCTV footage from around that time?’

  ‘We don’t have any cameras in the club. Just the one at the entrance and we delete the footage every day.’

  ‘What’s the point of having it if you delete the footage?’

  ‘To protect our security staff. That way we’re able to prove who started any fights.’

  ‘Would you mind if I was to speak to some of your staff or regulars? Perhaps they can give me some more information.’

  Weise exhaled loudly. ‘You know, we really value our good reputation,’ he began. ‘A man from the CID might . . . bother a few of our guests.’

  ‘Because of possible drug offences?’ Nik was hinting at a raid in 2009 when numerous people had been arrested in the club and the former manager had been found in possession of cocaine. The club had made headlines all over Germany.

  ‘Look, as long as people behave themselves, I don’t tell anybody how to live their life.’ Weise was trying to defend himself but it was a weak argument. He knew what Nik was referring to. And he knew Nik would need less than five minutes to pick up two underage drinkers, prove three drug offences and uncover various health and safety violations. In a real investigation Nik would have had everything he needed to close the place immediately. It was time to make some demands.

  ‘I’ll make a suggestion,’ began Nik. ‘Frau Nowara introduces me to a few of your employees and a couple of choice customers. And in turn I’ll be discreet and leave the detective badge in my pocket. I’ll be gone in an hour and I won’t mention the visit anywhere apart from my case report.’

  Weise bit his bottom lip. He really wanted to turn down Nik’s offer. ‘All right,’ he said finally. ‘But please be as discreet as possible.’

  ‘I promise,’ said Nik, before turning towards Nowara. ‘Shall we?’

  Her boss gave her a nod and she led Nik out of the office. The music smacked him again. Nowara had to stand up close and shout loudly for him to hear. Reflections of light sparkled in the disco balls hanging on the ceiling. All the bar stools were taken and a mass of people was pushing to get to the bar. To the side of the bar was a seating area with rigid upholstered seats and black painted tables. On the way to the dance floor there was a pole, around which an attractive dark-skinned woman in underwear was spinning slowly. It was predominantly men who were watching her, their glassy red eyes a clear indication of excessive alcohol consumption. The DJ, a young woman, stood on a raised platform above the dance floor. She bobbed her head in time to the beat, completely engrossed in her mixing decks.

  Over the next hour, Nowara introduced Nik to a couple of regular customers and some staff. Most of the people he spoke to knew Viola. Some of them knew her just from the club, while others knew her from outside of work as well. But nobody had heard from her since her last day at work. The deafening noise made it almost impossible to have a conversation and asking people so many questions proved a tedious task. Although nobody could give him any information, one of the bartenders did become very nervous when Nik asked him if he knew where Viola was. The young man was in a great hurry to end the conversation, saying lots of people were waiting to be served. Nowara had introduced him as Finn. He kept watching Nik slyly from the corner of his eye and he suddenly found it very difficult to concentrate on his work. He even dropped a bottle of vodka at one point.

  After she’d got through all the bar staff, Nowara introduced Nik to a woman in her late thirties whose name he didn’t catch. He thought to himself how attractive she could have been, if she hadn’t been wearing so much make-up or a mini skirt that most prostitutes would have considered too short. While they were talking, she kept rubbing her nose. Nik noticed the whites of her eyes were bloodshot and her pupils were dilated. She spoke very quickly and kept laughing. All of a sudden, she grabbed Nik’s notebook, tore out a page and wrote down her phone number. She then giggled loudly and stuffed the number in his jacket pocket. Just as Nik was about to talk to someone else, Nowara pressed her earpiece to her ear and listened to something.

  ‘I’ll be back in a minute,’ she said to Nik before pushing her way hurriedly through the crowd. While she was upstairs, Nik went back to the bar and waited until Finn saw him. Nik nodded quickly towards the toilet entrance area. This was the only place in the club other than Weise’s office where the music was a bit quieter.

  Making his way over to the toilets, he stood beside the Men’s and crossed his arms over his chest. A minute later, the bartender joined him. Finn had blonde hair that fell forward over his face, almost completely covering his eyes. Nik guessed he was in his early twenties. He had barely any facial hair, a scrawny figure and an attractive, childlike face which was surely a hit among the female clubbers.

  ‘Was there something else, Officer?’ he asked self-consciously, avoiding all eye contact.

  ‘Ever since I asked you about Viola, you’ve been very nervous,’ Nik commented. ‘Is there something else you’d like to tell me?’

  Finn looked behind him, as though he was scared to be seen speaking to Nik. A man who was laughing loudly entered the entranceway with two giggling women under his arms. While the women went to the toilet, he waited at the door, straightening his shirt and examining his face in a pane of dark glass.

  ‘Not here,’ said Finn, so quietly that only Nik could hear. His gaze went towards the ceiling. ‘I finish at two,’ he continued. ‘There’s a kebab place on the street going into town. It’s open till three. Let’s meet there.’

  Finn turned around abruptly and forced his way back to the bar.

  Nowara came back shortly after. Nik thanked her politely for all her help and left the nightclub. Outside, the bouncers were holding down a violently struggling man, watched by the crowd around the door, one of whom was enthusiastically filming the scene on his mobile. Nik pushed his way through the mass of people and made his way towards the city centre, taking note of the kebab shop Finn had mentioned. He kept walking until he reached a Mexican restaurant at Karlsplatz and went inside for some food.

  Three extra-hot tacos and two weissbier later, he said goodbye to the staff, left a tip on the table and headed to the meeting place. It had started to snow, so he stayed close to the wall and lowered his head to keep the snow off his face. He was walking slowly, shuffling even, but his mind was racing. What was it the boy hadn’t wanted to say in front of Nowara? Was it possible Viola actually had been involved in the dealing? The Palace wasn’t exactly the worst place to be shifting coke.

  It was the middle of the night and it had been a long day. Under other circumstances Nik would have noticed the man closing in on him from behind. But not today. A blow to the head sent him sprawling to the ground. He just had time to glimpse a pair of black leather shoes and some suit trousers before a second blow sent him spiralling into darkness.

  Nik woke to a thumping headache. He squinted and tried to raise a hand to the wound but both hands had been tied firmly to two wooden armrests. He was sitting on a chair in some building that was clearly under construction. The plasterboard walls were covered in tarpaulin, and the smell of wet paint was in the air. There was a pallet covered in cement bags, and in front of that stood a couple of buckets, a large cement mixer and a drill. A glaring halogen lamp blinded him and forced him to tip his head to the side, blinking rapidly, as he tried to remember what had happened. But other than the fact that someone had hit him when he was on his way to meet Finn, his mind was blank.

  The room had no windows and he couldn’t tell if it was morning or not. He tried
moving his feet but they’d also been tied to the chair. It was old and solid, like the ones found in traditional pubs, and he quickly realised that he wouldn’t be able to escape. Someone pushed the light out of Nik’s face and he straightened his head. A man stepped forward. He was wearing a dark suit and had short strawberry blonde hair. His lips were exceptionally thin and he had a petite, delicate nose.

  ‘Tilo?’ asked Nik. ‘What the fuck?’

  His colleague came closer, pressing his thin lips together. ‘Why do you always insist on getting mixed up in everything?’ He hurled the question at Nik.

  ‘Did you hit me?’

  ‘I told you to leave the case alone but you just never listen.’

  ‘Have you lost it?’ continued Nik. ‘Untie me!’ He pulled at the cable ties around his wrists.

  ‘I can’t untie you,’ said Tilo, shaking his head. ‘I’m sorry.’

  ‘What the fuck is going on? I thought we were mates!’

  ‘There is no more “we”, Nik,’ explained Tilo regretfully. ‘There’s just you or me.’

  ‘What are you talking about?’

  ‘Viola’s case should’ve never been reopened. You can’t begin to understand the chaos you’ve stirred up.’

  ‘What chaos? What’s going on?’

  ‘Oh, it’s complicated,’ answered Tilo. ‘You wouldn’t get it.’

  ‘You arrogant wanker!’ Nik spat on the floor in front of Tilo. ‘You’ve been a right fucking brown nose ever since you got promoted to Major Crimes.’

  Tilo smacked him in the face with the back of his hand. ‘Nik, not everybody wants a life as shitty as yours, you know.’

  ‘Untie me now or I’ll rip your balls off!’ Nik screamed. He tugged against the cable ties but it only made the plastic carve deeper into his skin.

  ‘The only thing you’re going to do is tell me why you’re looking for Viola.’ Tilo took out his gun and pressed it to Nik’s forehead.

  ‘Could you not have asked me that over a coffee down the station?’