A Fear of Dark Water (43 page)

‘What’s that got to do with my cellphone?’

‘I think they did the same with that. I think the phone I’ve been examining isn’t yours at all. It’s a substitute. A clone. And your network isn’t your network. They’ve faked it all so that you’ve been connected to their network and the whole time they were monitoring you through it.’

Fabel thought about what the Cybercrime officer had said. ‘So you’re saying that you’re not going to find
anything
on their system? Wiegand’s going to walk if you don’t, Kroeger, you do realise that?’

‘I can’t find what’s not there,’ replied Kroeger, ‘And I honestly think we’re looking in the wrong place at the wrong time. If only we had got into the network
before
they swapped drives … If you’re right and Meliha Yazar did get something on them, then you’ve got to find it, if it still exists.’

There was a perfunctory knock on the door and Anna stepped in.

‘Sorry to disturb you,
Chef
, but there’s something I think you might want to see.’

‘What?’

‘What looks like a suicide, over in Wilhelmsburg.’

‘And what makes it interesting?’

‘Two things. Firstly it would appear the guy committed suicide using an Exit Bag, just like the invalid, Reisch. The second thing is that the dead man’s neighbour insists he speak to you. He asked for you by name …’

‘This isn’t the same,’ said Fabel as soon as he walked into the apartment. ‘We need a forensics team up here.’

He walked over to where the massive bulk of the dead man lay slumped over the computer desk. From a distance, Fabel had had difficulty identifying the shape as human. It had appeared more like a large, formless dark mass. Unlike Reisch’s Exit Bag, ballooned up with helium, the plastic bag over this man’s face was sucked in tight.

‘You don’t think this is suicide?’ asked Anna, who had accompanied Fabel to the scene.

‘He’s got a plastic bag over his head, but there’s no helium canister or other inert gas. This guy’s gone out with every instinct screaming for breath. It would take an enormous effort of will to sit there without your hands tied and not tear the plastic bag off your head.’

‘I don’t see him as the willpower type, somehow,’ said Anna gravely. ‘Especially around pastry. Whatever it was that killed him, it wasn’t anorexia …’

‘You’re all heart, Commissar Wolff.’

‘If there’s anyone with an enlarged heart around here, it’s not me. How much do you think this guy weighed?’

‘God knows. Close on two hundred kilos.’

‘What’s up?’ Anna read the frown on Fabel’s face.

‘Do you see all this computer equipment? There must be thousands of euros’ worth here.’

‘I’m guessing he didn’t get out much,’ said Anna.

‘No, this is more that that. There’s something professional about this set-up. I can’t help but think this could be tied in with the whole Pharos Project thing.’

‘Could be a coincidence. By the way, do you really think Daniel Föttinger was the Network Killer?’

‘I’m convinced of it. Kroeger and his boffins have seized Föttinger’s computer, not that they’ll find anything there, but they’ve also got a court order to get his records from his internet service provider, as well as his cellphone accounts. Even if I can’t prove it, I’d put a year’s pay on us not seeing another victim.’ Fabel nodded towards the slumped body. ‘What did the police surgeon say about this?’

‘That he’s been dead for a while, that he clearly had a history of breathing problems, going by the gear in the bedroom and some of the medication. It would have been quick and easy with the bag. Maybe that’s why there’s no helium.’

‘Where’s this neighbour who insists on seeing me?’ asked Fabel.

‘Downstairs.’

* * *

Jetmir Dallaku was agitated. Impatient. It was clear that he had been waiting for some time for Fabel to call.

‘Are you Principal Chief Commissar Jan Fabel of the Polizei Hamburg?’ The small, wiry Albanian posed the question with such earnestness and formality that Fabel had to suppress a grin.

‘I am, yes. You wanted to see me?’

‘Do you have badge? Card? With name on?’

Fabel glanced at a smirking Anna, then reached into his jacket pocket and held out his police ID. Dallaku studied it with a frown.

‘Herr Kraxner, upstairs. He knew someone come to do something bad.’

‘He told you this?’ asked Fabel.

‘Yes. He said that if anything bad happen to him, I am to speak to you. Only you, and give you this …’ He reached into his pocket and took out a carefully folded envelope. ‘Herr Kraxner … he was sad man. Lonely man. Why anybody hurt him?’

Fabel stared at the envelope for a moment, seeing his own name written on it, then looked up at the ceiling as if he could see through it and into the dead man’s apartment.

‘Klabautermann …’

‘What?’ said Anna.

Fabel snapped his attention back to her. ‘Get on to Kroeger. I’ve got more work for him. Tell him I want every piece of hardware taken out of that apartment and subjected to the same scrutiny as the Pharos Project stuff.’

‘He was the guy who phoned you?’ Anna asked. ‘The guy who said he had something to tell you?’

Fabel looked again at the envelope in his hands. ‘I think he probably still has.’

Chapter Thirty-Five

‘I trust you slept well?’ asked Fabel, taking his seat opposite Wiegand. The truth was that the billionaire looked as fresh as if he had spent the night in the Hotel Vier Jahreszeiten. A complete change of clothes had been brought in for him by Korn-Pharos staff. Amelie Harmsen looked similarly composed and fresh.

‘The accommodation was tolerable,’ said Wiegand. ‘But let’s put it this way, I intend checking out today. Within the hour, in fact. And my stay is going to prove an expensive one. For the Polizei Hamburg, that is.’

Fabel smiled. ‘I wouldn’t count on it, if I were you.’

Werner Meyer and Nicola Brüggemann came in and sat on either side of Fabel. Werner had a pile of newspapers, which he laid on the floor next to his chair.

‘I see you’re coming mob-handed today, Principal Chief Commissar,’ said Harmsen.

‘Oh? Not really. It’s just that this is the main event, Frau Harmsen.’ Fabel pointed to the wall-mounted camera in the corner of the room. ‘I have to tell you that the rest of my team are all next door, watching us on the monitors. No one wants to miss this.’

Wiegand remained impossible to read. But Fabel knew that, even though she swept the expression from her face almost as soon as it had appeared, Harmsen was concerned.

‘If you’re suggesting that you found evidence of wrongdoing at the Pharos,’ said Wiegand, ‘then I know you are bluffing.’

Fabel smiled. ‘You’re very sure of that, aren’t you, Wiegand? My mistake was to forget that today we live in a world where everything we do, every communication we make, sends out ripples across this ocean of electronic noise. Just preparing for yesterday’s raid on the Pharos, for example. Or the raid on the Guardians of Gaia safe house. Yes, I’m sure we made enough ripples for you to have had sufficient warning to clear out the odd piece of hardware.’

‘If what you say is true, then you have no evidence. Not that there ever was any. But, let’s say there was: it sounds to me that the only way to access it would be to travel back in time …’ Wiegand smiled. A self-satisfied smile that made Fabel feel the impulse to smack it off his face. Instead, he smiled back.

‘I find the whole premise of your cult—’ he began.

‘The Pharos Project is not a cult, Herr Fabel. I resent the use of the word,’ said Wiegand.

‘I find the whole premise of your
organisation
intriguing,’ said Fabel. ‘And at the head of it is the mysterious Dominik Korn. I placed a call to him yesterday, by the way.’

Wiegand snorted. ‘And what did he say to you, Herr Fabel?’

‘Nothing. He wouldn’t speak to me. But, there again, you already knew that. I just thought that, given all of this trouble you’re having here in Germany,
Mister
Korn would maybe be interested in discussing it with me. But …’ Fabel shrugged.

‘What particularly interests me about the Pharos Project is its central belief system,’ continued Fabel. ‘This concept of the Singularity, or the Consolidation as you call it, providing the salvation of the environment. I didn’t realise that there were so many similar theories in the world of science. I mean, that some quantum physicists believe that
this
could all be a simulation – that reality lies somewhere distant on the edge of the universe. If you ask me, it’s all tosh. All of this Singularity, or Omega Point, or Consolidation, or whatever you want to call it. But there are people out there, vulnerable people, some even with mental illnesses, who desperately want to believe in it. It’s no different from the promise of the afterlife that religion has touted for millennia. People want some justification for believing that the lives they lead and hate aren’t all there is. That there’s some great transformational truth awaiting them. In your case, one that is based on pseudoscience and cod philosophy. Too much science fiction and not enough common sense.’

‘Everyone’s entitled to their opinion,’ said Wiegand. ‘But I’ll tell you this – and it’s the truth: I happen to believe that we are entering the next great stage in human evolution, and we ourselves will be the drivers of that evolution. Not Nature. Have you ever thought about how fast things are changing, Fabel? I mean, do you remember when you were a teenager, for example? Think about all of the massive leaps forward we have made in that time – more than in the rest of human history put together. This is the Great Acceleration, Fabel. Think about the differences in technology and population growth between, say, 1200 and 1500. So little advance in three hundred years. Then think of the massive changes between 1800 and 1900, when the industrial revolution changed everything about the way we lived. But when you look at the twentieth century, at the incredible advances in technology and the explosion in human population, then think about the period between 1975 and today – unbelievable change. It’s getting faster and faster. Cybernetic technologies, genetics, genomics, nanotechnology, femtotechnology, even our basic understanding of how the universe around us works – we are now squeezing into a decade what used to take us a century to achieve. Soon it will be compressed into five years, a year … The Great Acceleration, as I said.’

‘Let me guess, only the Pharos Project understands the implications of this,’ said Fabel. ‘Only you can be trusted to steer mankind in the right direction. If that means carrying out vendettas against anyone who criticises or leaves your cult, infiltrating government bodies, even committing cold-blooded murder … then all of that is justified, is that it?’

‘We don’t commit murder. We are a peaceful group.’ Wiegand’s tone was controlled, even. ‘But yes, sometimes it’s almost as if everyone else is blind to what’s happening. As a species we
are
moving towards something. Our destiny. But there is a very good chance that before we reach that point the damage we are doing to the environment will kill us.’

‘And if we do make it, what does this brave new world of yours hold for us?’ asked Fabel.

‘The time will come – and it will come soon – when we
will
be building self-aware, intelligent machines capable of accelerating the Acceleration. Technology you’re incapable of imagining. Nanotechnology and femtotechnology will allow us to build inconceivably powerful computers on a microscopic scale: computers built molecule by molecule. And the new science of synthetic genomics has already resulted in the creation of the first purely artificial life … the computers of the future may be as organic as we are. It’s the only hope we have: to disengage from the environment and use technology to offer a higher level of existence, of consciousness. You seem to think that I don’t believe in what the Pharos Project stands for. Well, you’re wrong. I believe it all. I believe it’s the future of mankind.’

Fabel looked at Harmsen, who kept her gaze fixed on the tabletop.

‘But you don’t want to save mankind, Wiegand. You want to save the chosen few. You’re just one more rich guy with a messiah complex,’ said Fabel. ‘People as wealthy as you become so removed from the way everyone else lives their lives that you become totally detached from reality. God knows I can understand how that would affect poor
Mister
Korn, stuck there in international waters on his luxury yacht, plugged into all kinds of technology just to keep him alive. But what you’re talking about isn’t
enhanced
humanity. It isn’t even humanity. It’s something less. A diminishment.’

‘You are a man of limited intellect, Fabel. And less imagination. I have no interest in continuing this conversation further.’ Wiegand started to stand up but Werner placed a persuasive hand on his shoulder.

‘You’re not going anywhere, Wiegand,’ said Fabel.

‘Then I think you need to make some specific charges,’ said Harmsen. Fabel could sense that she wished she had stuck to representing TV actresses with botched cosmetic surgery.