Sun on Fire (6 page)

He pulled a large envelope from his briefcase and extracted several color photographs. The first one showed a fat, bald man sitting hunched over in a fancy office chair. He was dressed in a dark-gray suit and a white open-necked shirt. A gaping wound split the man’s abdomen, and the knife stuck out from its lower end. The blade had sliced through his clothing, and internal pressure had forced the wound open to fifteen centimeters at its widest.

Fischer said, “The killer plunged the knife deep into the victim’s abdomen halfway between the sternum and the navel, probably using his right hand, since the incision slants marginally to the left. He then pushed the knife downward with considerable force, slitting the abdomen all the way down to the pubic bone. At that point he would have let go of the weapon, and blood, guts and stomach contents would have gushed from the wound and over the knife handle. Very likely over the killer’s hand and arm, too. The victim would have passed out within a few seconds from shock and blood loss. Death probably occurred soon after.”

“Wouldn’t he have called for help or screamed as he was attacked?” Gunnar asked.

“Sure, but the sound wouldn’t have carried two floors down to where the party was apparently being held. We can assist you in experimenting with that if you like. And the killer could have muzzled the victim with his free hand. The autopsy may reveal signs of that.”

“At what stage is your investigation?” Gunnar asked.

Fischer took out a notebook. “We received a message from our Foreign Ministry at 10:27 yesterday morning. We were asked to come to the embassy and carry out a regular examination of the body at the crime scene prior to arranging for its removal and transportation to the pathology laboratory here in Berlin. Our procedure included marking out and detailed photography of the scene. Also preliminary medical examination, thermometry and taking some tissue samples. Transportation of the body and its detached parts was carried out by specialist removers. Our orders from the ministry were to comply with the senior embassy official’s instructions. Following the body’s removal, we were to do nothing more here, so no further forensic investigation was carried out at the scene. No interrogation took place, either. The Foreign Ministry was adamant that the investigation was the responsibility of the Icelandic state, and that we were only to provide such assistance as Iceland requested. The embassy is out of our jurisdiction.”

“Goddamned mindless bureautwats. They’ve succeeded in delaying the investigation by twenty-four hours,” Gunnar said. “I hope you didn’t comply?”

Fischer smiled apologetically. “There wasn’t much else we could do.”

He pulled a wallet wrapped in plastic from his bag. “Here are the deceased’s personal effects,” he said, handing the packet to Gunnar. “This is what he had with him.”

“Anything specific?”

“No. Cash, credit cards, business cards, a key.”

“A key. You mean a key ring?”

“No key ring. Just a single key in a wallet compartment. Probably to some kind of safe.”

“I see,” Gunnar said. “Anything else?”

“Yes, actually,” Fischer replied. “I did a search for the man’s name in our database. Just to see if he had been involved in anything.”

“And?”

“We have for some time been increasing our surveillance of German citizens who frequent Asian countries and are suspected of committing sexual crimes against children. We’re trying to make it easier to implement laws sanctioning prosecution of such individuals here in Germany, as happens in many other European countries. We also inform the relevant Asian authorities of our suspicions so they can take measures against traffickers and child abusers at the source. Some things we do in these countries are slightly dubious according to our procedures and laws, but we take the view that these matters are so serious that the end justifies the means. Herr Eiríksson’s name appeared on a list from one of our informers in Indonesia. Eiríksson is known there by the pseudonym Tenderloin, and he is very active in this field. These guys keep their real names as secret as possible, of course, but our man followed Eiríksson for two days and eventually managed to bribe his way to a copy of a hotel bill. I don’t suppose that Anton Eiríksson is a very common name, so there’s no doubt about this. Unfortunately we haven’t yet established clear working rules on
how to deal with information on citizens of other countries, so nothing has been done so far in this individual’s case.”

“How did Eiríksson attract your attention?” Gunnar asked.

“He was a frequent visitor to some kind of a ‘rest and relaxation’ hotel that has an extremely bad reputation. Very young children, boys and girls, are hired there for service jobs, but it seems that this includes some very serious sexual abuse. These children come from poor families of the lowest social orders of society, and it is very difficult to eradicate this business.”

“I see,” Gunnar said. He glanced at a picture of the corpse. “This guy was a serious piece of shit. He probably won’t be missed.”

“Probably not,” Fischer said. “And it was a brutal attack. Somebody paid him back with interest.”

“What would the next stage of your investigation have involved?” Gunnar asked.

“A thorough forensic investigation of the whole floor. Fingerprints, hair and biological specimens. If you’d like assistance, I can call our specialists in. Your forensic officer can oversee things and make sure the investigation is satisfactory. We can provide secure storage for any biological specimens. All this will certainly speed things up.”

“Good idea and good offer,” Gunnar said. He took out his cell phone and called Birkir. After a short discussion he nodded.

“Yes, please. My colleagues and the ambassador are grateful for your help.”

Now it was Fischer’s turn to make a call. “They’ll be here shortly,” he said as he hung up. “The Foreign Ministry did ask us to assist you as much as possible.”

Having finished his second bowl of soup, Gunnar was wiping his mouth with the sleeve of his jacket when a man in his fifties approached their table.

“Guten appetit,”
the newcomer said. “I am Wolf. I’m a security guard, and I was on duty the night before last. Herr Ingason asked me to update you on the investigations we have carried out at the guard post.” He was dressed in a plain uniform with an ID card hanging around his neck. He carried a laptop under his arm.

Gunnar and Fischer stood up and shook hands with Wolf as they introduced themselves. Gunnar called the waitress over and asked for more coffee and an extra cup.

“We’ve checked all the security systems relevant to what happened over the weekend,” Wolf said. “We will make a detailed report, but I can tell you where we’re at so far.”

“Thanks,” Gunnar said. “That’ll be very useful.”

Wolf opened the laptop and switched it on. He fished some printed notes out of his pocket and placed them on the table. “According to the automatic computer log, the Icelandic embassy security system was switched on at five thirty last Friday afternoon, when the last staff member left the building at the end of the workday,” he read from a sheet of paper. “This is a comprehensive system with automatic door sensors at all entrances and several motion sensors on each floor. No signals were detected from any sensor until the ambassador opened the main door of the building Sunday at 18:10 and deactivated the system at the control board in the entrance lobby. The building was unquestionably empty at that point.”

Wolf opened a program on his laptop to show footage from the security cameras, and Gunnar and Fischer saw an image of the plaza between the embassy buildings; a few people came into the picture, walking toward the Icelandic embassy.

Wolf said, “We have footage from the cameras monitoring the plaza, and they show us seven individuals accompanying the ambassador into the embassy building. You’ll get copies of
all these recordings on disc, by the way, along with our written report. Next thing we see is that at 19:40 the ambassador emerges and crosses to the main entrance of the Felleshus to accept his food delivery. At 22:55, a female arrived at the Felleshus entrance by cab and introduced herself as the Icelandic ambassador’s wife. She called her husband herself, and he came over to the reception desk and checked her in as a guest. At that time, the ambassador told the guard that the meeting would soon be over, but for whatever reason that didn’t turn out to be the case. At 02:25, the ambassador called the security guard and asked him to call three cabs. At 02:41, two men came out of the Icelandic building, walked across to the Felleshus, and exchanged their guest passes for their passports.”

Wolf consulted his notes. “According to the guard’s log, these two were Herr Gíslason and Herr Mathieu. Ten minutes later, six people came out of the Icelandic building and crossed to the Felleshus. These were Ambassador Björnsson and his wife, Herr Sváfnisson, Herr Sigrídarson, Herr Kárason, and Herr Bjarnason.”

A moving image appeared on the screen: One man supported the woman, who was barefoot and carrying one shoe in her hand; another, a tall man in his shirtsleeves, performed some clumsy dance steps and waved his arms about; a third man carried a jacket that probably belonged to the dancer he was trying to steer toward the exit; the fourth was obviously limping; and the fifth was bent over, clutching his stomach. The group moved across the plaza and disappeared out of camera range.

“Herr Sváfnisson had lost his guest pass, and Ambassador Björnsson signed for the return of his passport on behalf of the embassy. The ambassador and his wife went straight to one of the waiting cabs and drove away. The other four men climbed into the second car. The guard kept an eye on them, as Herr
Sváfnisson was somewhat restless and noisy. In the end, the cabdriver refused to drive them. He got out of the car and was about to call the police, at which point the security guard came out and settled matters—Herr Sváfnisson moved into the backseat and the other three undertook to keep him under control. Herr Kárason tipped the cab driver an extra one hundred euros, and he agreed to take them to their hotel. This disturbance was the reason the guard didn’t pick up on the fact that one of the visitors hadn’t presented himself to reclaim his passport. When he eventually noticed, he immediately called me—I was on call and asleep in the security-section bunk room. I got up at once, and we started searching the outside area. We didn’t find anybody, but we could see from our control desk that the ambassador hadn’t reactivated the security system in the Icelandic building. The regulations prevent us from entering any embassy unless the alarm system gives a signal or circumstances specifically demand it. That wasn’t the case, and I decided to call Herr Ingason, who lives nearby. He supervises all communications between the Icelandic embassy and the security guards, so that seemed the obvious thing to do. Herr Ingason arrived here at 03:27 by cab and proceeded alone into the Icelandic building.

“At 03:43, he returned to our guard post and said he’d found the visitor dead. I asked if he was sure the man was dead, or if we should call an ambulance. Herr Ingason said he was very sure that he was dead. I then asked if he had any instructions for us. He said he needed to consult with the Icelandic authorities immediately and that he would do this by telephone from the embassy. He asked me to reserve a conference room in the Felleshus and direct the Icelandic embassy staffers there as they showed up for work. The only thing to add is that we examined the CCTV footage monitoring the entrance to the embassy from the basement
parking area, but it shows no movement from Friday until the body was removed after lunch yesterday. This tallies with the door sensor, which logged no openings during the period.”

Gunnar asked, “Is the sensor active when the alarm system is off?”

“Yes. It logs the time whenever the door is opened but gives no alarm signal if the security system is not activated. There is no such entry in the log.”

“Would a professional be able to open the door without the sensor picking it up?”

Wolf shook his head. “I’m almost sure that’s impossible. The manufacturer says it can’t be done.”

“How about the other embassy buildings? Were they empty that evening?”

“There were some comings and goings during the evening, but nobody approached the entrance to the Icelandic building. It’s set away from the other buildings. We’ve got recordings from two cameras covering the entrance, and only the people I’ve mentioned were spotted there.”

Gunnar said, “The murder weapon is a large knife.” He passed the box to the guard. “Don’t you have measures to prevent this kind of weapon from being taken into the embassies?”

Wolf replied, “The weapons-inspection levels vary in severity. There are three degrees of alert status. The highest is activated when there is political tension and threats have been issued, as when some Scandinavian newspaper published a cartoon of the prophet Mohamed. At that level, we have recourse to a Berlin-based security firm for backup, and all our security measures are augmented—the search for weapons is as rigorous as in airport security. But most of the time the alert status is low, which it was on Sunday. There’s a metal detector in the double entrance door
from the Felleshus into the plaza. Coins or cell phones in people’s pockets don’t trigger it, but larger objects—which would include guns and large knives—do. If it gives a signal, the inner door won’t open and the person in question is asked to step back. The security guard will then carry out a regular body search. I assume a knife like that would activate the alarm, but we can test it later.”

“We’ll do that,” Gunnar said. “But everything seems to indicate that the killer was one of the eight in the party.”

“Yes,” Wolf said. “Anything else is very unlikely.”

Gunnar turned to Fischer. “If you had been instructed to investigate the case, you would’ve brought all eight of them in for interviews yesterday morning. And you’d have isolated them and questioned them individually—correct?”

“Yes,” Fischer replied. “It might have taken a while getting qualified interpreters to assist us, but we would have tried to get a good handle on the course of events right away.”