JF01 - Blood Eagle (36 page)

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Authors: Craig Russell

Tags: #crime, #thriller

‘And sacrifice no longer plays a part in Asatru?’

‘Oh yes … very much so. The
Blot
is still a ritual of sacrifice. But in Asatru, the concept of sacrifice is more in the sense of giving. Sometimes we pour the mead onto the ground, to honour the Mother Earth. We give to her in return for what she has given us. Our sacrifices and symbolisms have been subsumed into Christianity. The Roman Catholic Mass, for example, or harvest festivals. And Easter is the theft of the goddess
Eostre
, who turned herself into a hare and hid golden eggs in the fields. That’s why children still go on egg hunts.’

‘Do women have any role in your religion?’ asked Maria.

‘Indeed they do, Frau Oberkommissarin.’ Janssen’s smile stopped just short of a leer. ‘Women are the creators of life. They are revered in Asatru and often it is the
Gythia
, or priestess, rather than the
Gothi
who presides over the
Blot
.’

Maria looked unimpressed. ‘And what is the special “gift” women are supposed to offer up?’

‘I don’t understand your question …’ answered Janssen, but his expression suggested that he did.

Fabel reached into his inside jacket pocket and produced a copy of the photograph taken at the Stadtkrankenhaus Cuxhaven of Michaela Palmer’s forehead. ‘I believe this to be the rune
Gebu
…’

Janssen shrugged. ‘It could also just be a cross. An X.’

‘This mark was daubed on the forehead of a victim who was forced to take part in a Norse-type ritual. She was repeatedly raped by men wearing masks of a one-eyed, bearded figure.’

Janssen winced. ‘Wotan … or Odin …’ He thought for a moment. ‘Whoever these people are, Herr Fabel, they are committing not just a terrible crime but an offence against a peaceful, gentle faith. Asatru, unlike other faiths, believes in the freedoms and rights of the individual as being inviolable. I’ll help you in any way I can.’ Janssen looked more closely at the photograph. ‘Yes … yes … that could be the rune
Gebu. Gebu
has a specific relevance to the
Blot
. It is the symbol of giving and of sacrifice. As I said, the two concepts are closely related.’

‘You claim none of your devotees would be involved in something like this?’

‘Certainly not! This is a corruption of our faith. Much in the way a Black Mass is a corruption of Catholicism.’ Janssen paused as if weighing something up.

‘What is it, Herr Janssen?’

‘There were rumours … a couple of years ago.’

‘About what?’ The impatience was clear in Maria’s voice. Fabel gave her a quick look.

‘There are a few Asatru groups in and around Hamburg. We all share the same broad beliefs and are opposed to any negative or violent interpretation of them. But like every other religion there can be a darker aspect. A couple of years ago there was talk of some breakaway group. They were supposed to be few in number and I heard that they were very exclusive in their membership.’

‘And this group was supposed to be on the black-magic side of all of this …’ Maria struggled for a word – ‘
religion
?’

Janssen nodded. ‘They were supposed to be focused on
seidhr
… that’s the shamanic tradition in Odinism. You asked about the role of women in Asatru. Well there is a tradition of women being the main practitioners of
seidhr
. This group, however, were supposed to be mainly or exclusively men.’

‘Do you have any idea who was involved in this group?’

‘I don’t know. Like I say, it was all rumour at the time. But I do know that the word was that this group included very important people. I also heard that there was a foreigner involved with it.’

Fabel and Maria exchanged glances.

‘Could ritualised rape play a part in their ceremonies?’ asked Fabel

‘Not in any traditionally legitimate way. But one element of the
Blot
is the concept of self-sacrifice. Giving oneself. Maybe it’s a perverted interpretation of that. Certainly the rune
Gebu
is associated with the “gift” or the sacrifice. It is recited as a
galdr
or ritual chant during a
Blot
. There’s also the concept of
ond
. It means ecstasy. It really means “joy”, but it’s open to perverted interpretation, I suppose. And I won’t deny that there were some dark acts committed by the ancient practitioners. An Arab observer witnessed a woman at a Viking chief’s funeral having sex with seven different men before boarding the funeral longship and being burned alive with the body of the chieftain.’

‘So much for your peaceful, gentle religion,’ said Maria.

‘And Christians used to burn heretics and so-called witches at the stake,’ said Janssen, with a cold smile and a glance at Maria’s blouse. ‘Like every philosophy or religion, Asatru is open to abuse. I really have no idea whether the rumours about this sect were true, or if indeed they have any connection to the crime you’re investigating. I’m just trying to be helpful.’

‘And you have been, Herr Janssen,’ said Fabel with a meaningful look in Maria’s direction. ‘Very helpful. Was there any mention of where this “foreigner” might have come from?’

Janssen shook his head. ‘Sorry.’

‘Or where this group held their meetings?’

‘No. I’m afraid not. They were supposed to be very secretive.’

‘Thanks again for your help,’ Fabel said and extended his hand to Janssen.

Janssen made a big deal of coming around his counter and showing them out. ‘Anytime,’ he said. He held the door open for them both, his smile reserved exclusively for Maria.

They had taken Maria’s car and were parked around the corner. She beeped off the car alarm and Fabel paused, his hand resting on the door handle and looking over the roof at Maria.

‘What?’ she said, defensively.

Fabel smiled. ‘You don’t like Herr Janssen very much … do you?’

Maria feigned a shudder, grimaced and made an
uurgh
sound.

‘Such a pity,’ Fabel said getting into the car, ‘I rather think he had a thing for you.’

Maria didn’t switch on the engine immediately. Her face was thoughtful and her gaze unfocused.

‘It’s weird, isn’t it?’

‘What?’ asked Fabel.

‘The way people are always reaching out for something. And sometimes that something is as scary as hell.’

‘You mean the breakaway group Janssen was talking about? The fringe element’s fringe element?’

‘Yeah. Do you think Janssen really believes all of that Asatru crap? Or the people carrying out these rapes? Do they feel they have some religious justification?’

Fabel pursed his lips. ‘I doubt it, Maria. Not on any meaningful level, that is. As for Janssen … maybe. As you say, there are so many people clutching at moral straws, trying to give shape and meaning to their lives. It’s a dark and lonely universe otherwise.’

Maria started the engine and pulled out into the traffic.

 

Friday 20 June, 12.00 p.m. Polizeipräsidium, Hamburg
.

Norbert Eitel’s secretary’s sole mission seemed to be to prevent the outside world from having any contact with her boss. She eventually put Fabel’s call through, but only after he threatened to arrive unannounced with a team of officers and arrest anyone who obstructed them.

‘Yes, Herr Kriminalhauptkommissar …’ Norbert Eitel sounded distracted, as if he were reading something of much more importance while he spoke to Fabel. ‘What is it I can do for you?’

‘I would very much like to come and talk to you … and to your father, should he be available at the same time.’

‘May I ask in regard to what?’

‘I understand you knew Angelika Blüm?’

‘Oh … yes … a terrible, terrible thing. But how can we help?’ Fabel could tell he now had Eitel’s full attention.

‘Background mainly.’

‘But my father didn’t know Angelika. I think they only met once and very briefly … I can’t see what use he can be.’

‘Well I think we’re better discussing this when we meet. Could you make time at two-thirty this afternoon?’

‘Well … I suppose so, but I can’t speak for my father. He does not work in this business. He has his own interests.’

‘That’s fine, Herr Eitel. If your father can’t make it, we can arrange for a car to pick him up and bring him down to the Präsidium … I wouldn’t want to inconvenience him.’

Eitel’s voice turned cold and hard in the face of the threat. ‘I’ll see what I can do,’ he said, and hung up.

 

Fabel arranged lunch for everyone to be delivered to the Mordkommission from the canteen. He was keen for Anna to go through her briefing for the MacSwain operation the following evening. Anna had made only a few changes from her initial proposal. She had asked for two extra officers to work on the surveillance team, boosting its number to ten, not including herself. Fabel approved of the added security and suspected that Paul Lindemann had insisted on it. As Fabel had hoped, Anna had chosen Paul to lead the back-up teams. There would be two officers inside the club; the other eight would be split between five vehicles. The main vehicle would be a panel van that would house two heavily armed MEK officers, Paul and Maria, as well as the electronic equipment to listen in on Anna’s wire. The van would operate as the command centre, monitoring activity and issuing instructions to the rest of the team. There would be two team members on motorcycles, allowing them to match MacSwain’s Porsche for speed, and two cars, each with a Mord-kommission officer. Altogether, it meant that MacSwain’s tail could continually change to avoid suspicion, and if he put a foot wrong, he would be swamped by police officers within seconds. As Van Heiden had already pointed out, it was an expensive operation to launch based on Fabel’s hunch and Anna’s on-the-spot improvisation. This was as secure an operation as Fabel could justify a budget for.

After the briefing, Fabel called Anna, Paul, Werner and Maria into his office. He told them about the meeting with the Eitels that afternoon and asked if both Maria and Werner would come along.

‘I want to outnumber them … or at least match their numbers,’ said Fabel when asked why. ‘There are two of them and I suspect they will have at least one lawyer present. I just want to make our presence felt.’

Fabel had the Klugmann murder weapon and the full report back from Brauner. He updated everyone on the background to the gun and what Hansi Kraus had said about the shooters. Fabel invited opinions.

‘Looks to me like we were meant to find the gun,’ volunteered Maria, ‘and Kraus screwed things up by being there and picking it up first. Someone wanted us to think that it was a Ukrainian hit.’

‘But they would have known that it looked contrived,’ said Fabel.

‘That’s only because we have someone who overheard them and can identify that they were German,’ said Werner. ‘If we didn’t have that we could have read the deliberate leaving behind of the gun as some kind of message … a claim of responsibility.’ He frowned. ‘There’s something odd going on with Hansi Kraus,
Chef
.

‘I got a full statement from him last night and we went through some of the photo files. Then I took him to the canteen for something to eat. I don’t know what the hell got into him but all of a sudden he said he had to go. I asked him what the hurry was but he didn’t say anything that made any sense. He promised to come back in today, but I said he’d have to stay a little longer to check through some more mug-shots. I sat him down at a table and went up to the counter – when I came back he was gone. That’s when you tried to get a hold of me … I was running around trying to find him.’

‘But you got his statement?’ asked Fabel. Werner confirmed that he had. ‘I wouldn’t worry about him taking off, Werner. He has a habit to feed and, when I last saw him, he was looking particularly ropy. We’ll pick him up if he doesn’t come in.’ Fabel turned to Maria. ‘Did you get the information I asked for on the Eitels?’

Maria handed Fabel a folder she had brought with her. ‘Eitel senior is not a pleasant piece to research. My notes are all in there, but to summarise … Wolfgang Eitel is seventy-nine years old. He is originally from the Passau region of Oberbayern. He was a member of the Hitler Youth until 1942 when he enlisted in the SS. Like most SS swine, he seems to suffer from selective amnesia, but the records, as far as they can be trusted, show that he started as an SS Untersturmführer – a second lieutenant – and was a Hauptsturmführer – a captain – at his time of arrest by the Allies.’

Fabel slipped out a black-and-white photograph of an arrogant young man, no older than twenty-one but trying to affect the look of someone more authoritative. He was wearing an SS uniform. Fabel had expected to see the double-lightning-bolt Ss on the collar. Suddenly Fabel remembered that, had they been there, he would again have been looking at an ancient Germanic rune. The
Sigrunen
– the ancient rune for victory – had been appropriated by the Nazis and used as the double-S insignia of the Schutzstaffel. But they were absent in this photograph. Instead Eitel’s right collar patch was of a white lion rampant against a black background. Fabel turned the photograph to Maria. ‘What does this insignia mean?’

Maria smiled broadly. ‘Now that takes us into interesting territory. I have no doubt that this is coincidental, but that is the insignia of the Fourteenth Waffen-Grenadier Division der SS. Also known as the Division-Galizien – the Galician Division. And as you know, Galicia was the historical region that encompasses part of modern Ukraine. The Galician Division of the SS was made up of Ukrainians who saw it as a way of liberating their country from Stalin.’

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