Betrayal: Karre & Viktoria Crime Novels, #3

By Tim Svart

The grand finale of the Hanna trilogy within the 'Karre & Viktoria' series.

 

Will the K3 team succeed in convicting the masterminds behind the deadly conspiracy? What will become of Hanna?

 

★★★★★ Book 3 of the bestselling crime series by Tim Svart ★★★★★

 

Who's prepared to follow the dangerous path to the end? Everyone in the K3 team will pay a high price for their mutual success. And with each step forward in the investigation, the stakes increase. In addition, a new murder case presents Karre and Co. with another series of challenges. While the divide between the K3 and the Organised Crime Department continues to grow, Karre and his colleagues must solve the mystery of a decayed corpse in a retirement home.

 

★★★★★ Books in the Karre & Viktoria Crime Series ★★★★★

 

SACRIFICE – Karre & Viktoria book 1
DECEPTION – Karre & Viktoria book 2
BETRAYAL – Karre & Viktoria book 3
REVENGE – Karre & Viktoria book 4

• Language: English
• Publisher: Pageturner Ink
• Release date: Jan 14, 2021
• ISBN: 9781393114369

Tim Svart

Tim is an award nominated, bestselling indie author. So far his books have been published in English, German and French. Tim was born in September 1976. Still attending school, he started to write ghost and vampires stories. He acted as co-writer and director of a vampire musical (as he could neither sing nor master a musical instrument sufficiently, but was eager to participate in the production). Tim's first full-length novel, the Horror Thriller “Das Schloss” (The Castle), hold #1 of Amazon's Horror Bestseller List for more than two months and made it into the German overall KINDLE Top10. A radio play based on this book was published as an episode of the "Dark Mysteries" series. His Lovecraft homage “Musik der Finsternis” (Music of Darkness) was nominated for the VINCENT PRIZE in the category “Best German-language Horror/Mystery Short Story of the Year”. "Damenopfer", the first book of the crime series featuring Karre and Viktoria, hit #3 on the German overall KINDLE Bestseller List. As of today there are four books in the Karre & Viktoria crime series. Tim lives in Essen, (Germany). He is married with two children and is a passionate diver, reader & author.

Book preview

Prologue

A few weeks earlier...

The snapping sounds reminded him of breaking bones, but it was merely dry branches giving way under his feet that were creating the eerie sound. It was already dusk, but there was enough light for him to find his way without a torch. And he could orient himself to the noise of the motorway traffic only a few hundred metres away.

He’d parked his car at the end of a forestry road, which he’d reached via a prohibited shortcut from a petrol station on the side of the motorway. He’d followed the bumpy track for about two kilometres until he finally reached the spot he’d selected using Google satellite images. Then he’d covered the rest of the way on foot, marching cross-country through the forest.

This time of year was a grace period for most hunted animal species, so he didn’t expect to encounter any hunters. Leisure hikers almost never strayed into this part of the forest.

After about ten minutes he reached a clearing on the edge of the forest, from which he had a clear view of the motorway. Halfway between him and the highway, not forty metres from the guardrail, was a deer stand – a raised hut on a platform, and the perfect position to carry out his mission.

He shouldered the long nylon bag and climbed the steep wooden ladder. When he reached the top, he surveyed his surroundings. As he’d expected, there was no one around. He pulled a Vintorez sniper rifle from the black bag, assembled the weapon and checked the view through the sights. He watched the cars rushing by through the scope. When his phone vibrated in his pocket, he leaned the rifle against the wall of the hunter’s perch and answered the call.

We’re almost there, said the caller. The noise in the vehicle was so loud it almost drowned out his voice. I’ll overtake her now and position myself directly in front of her. When you see my car, you’ll know she’s right behind me.

How fast is she going?

The caller told him the current driving speed of the two vehicles.

OK, I’m ready. He slipped the phone back into his pocket. Half a minute later he saw Becker’s BMW. An older model but with plenty of horsepower under the bonnet. The much newer Audi was following at a distance of about a hundred metres. Both vehicles were moving forwards at a constant speed, making it easier to anticipate the point at which he needed to fire, taking into account the characteristics of the weapon. He silently praised the inventor of cruise control as he carefully aimed the rifle.

Despite the perfect weather conditions, this kind of skilled shot took all of his concentration and many years of experience and practice. He’d researched the Audi’s dimensions in advance so that he could use the reticle integrated into the telescopic sight to precisely estimate the distance of the approaching car. The black mil dots in the scope told him that his distance from the target at the moment he touched the trigger was less than a hundred metres.

The shot resounded with a crack, which was mostly disguised by the traffic noise. Birds rose, scolding, from the green treetops behind him.

He put the weapon down and wiped the sweat from his forehead. The shot had hit the vehicle’s front tyre, which immediately popped right off its 20 inch rim, and the vehicle swerved, skidded sideways and then rolled several times. It broke through the right-hand barrier, smashed through several young birches and finally came to rest on its roof on the shoulder that sloped gently up to meet the forest.

Smoke rose from the front of the totalled vehicle. It would probably go up in flames any minute now. If the occupants had somehow survived the accident, the fire would take care of the rest.

He stowed the weapon back in its transport bag with well-practised movements, before climbing down from the platform and making his way back to his car. He’d fulfilled his mission. For now.

1

The present day…

Whoever fights monsters should see to it that he doesn’t become a monster himself. And when you gaze long into an abyss, the abyss also gazes back into you.

The phantom voice of Friedrich Nietzsche echoed endlessly in his head. Although in this case it wasn’t an abyss, but rather a crack in the wall he’d been staring at for several minutes, as though he feared that at any moment one of the monsters he’d declared war on might burst out of it.

Those monsters had orchestrated the murders that had piled up in the K3 team’s most recent case. Although they’d caught the perpetrators in the end, the price was high. Too high.

Two young people in love, who were uninvolved, had fallen victim to cold-blooded murder only because of a case of mistaken identity. A half-brother and sister, whose courageous but reckless fight against a powerful organisation had cost them their lives. A witness who had to die because she dared to provide the police with a vague clue about the identity of the perpetrator. Not to mention their colleague, Götz Bonhoff, who tragically lost his life during the course of the investigation, while Viktoria von Fürstenfeld twice escaped death only by the skin of her teeth.

A devastating death toll of six. And that didn’t include one of the murderers, who was killed by his accomplice before they could arrest him. The second murderer lay seriously injured in intensive care, waiting to be transferred to the prison hospital. A successfully concluded murder investigation looked different.

He was still staring at the crack in the flaky plaster running from the ceiling of their new office in the old Police Academy down to where there had probably once been a skirting board.

A blue-grey pigeon landed on the windowsill less than a metre away. The curious animal peered through the pane at the tired-looking man at the desk, who reached for his coffee cup to take a fortifying gulp, but then changed his mind and put the mug back down.

Karre shuddered when he saw the bird. He’d recently read an article about the plague of pigeons in big cities, in which the writer had relentlessly divulged his comprehensive knowledge of bird mites, pigeon ticks and fleas, describing the animals unsympathetically as flying rats. Looking at the animal’s stunted claws, the chief inspector couldn’t help thinking of the murderer they’d caught, whose life the doctors could only save by amputating his right leg, and who was now lying in hospital facing trial.

As for Karre, he was contemplating revenge. Revenge on those behind it all, responsible for the deaths of Sandra and many other people, and for Hanna’s fate. And this was the point where he had to be careful that he himself didn’t mutate into the proverbial monster. Because, after the events of the last few days, he was more determined than ever to put an end to the work of those ruthless masterminds.

He felt ready. For anything.

The office door flew open, and the pigeon fled with frantic wing beats into the overcast sky. Karre watched it disappear from view after a few metres.

Good morning, I’ve brought rolls. Viktoria had recovered astonishingly quickly from her physical and psychological wounds. She placed an orange paper bag on the round meeting table that only just fit between their desks and the moving cartons they still hadn’t unpacked. Have you already made coffee? she asked her boss, pulling a mug out of one of the cardboard boxes.

Yes, help yourself. He pointed to the coffee machine on the floor in a corner of the room.

At least the coffee doesn’t taste any worse than it did back at headquarters.

He watched his colleague crouch down and fill her mug with steaming black coffee.

No, but my own brew doesn’t come close to Corinna’s excellent coffee.

To Karre’s dismay, Schumacher had reassigned Corinna Müller, the K3’s assistant, to the Organised Crime department now headed up by a certain Alexander Notthoff.

And first I had to wipe off the plaster that had rained down from the ceiling overnight.

Viktoria looked around her, clasping her coffee and lowering herself onto one of the wooden chairs – also relics from their former office. I’ll be interested to see how long it takes for this place to get renovated.

I don’t want to disillusion you, but I doubt there’ll be any renovations. We’ll be lucky if somebody even swings a paint brush in here.

Then we’ll do it ourselves if we have to. The walls need a lick of paint at the very least. Breakfast? She opened the paper bag and the aroma of freshly baked bread rolls filled the room.

You don’t have to ask me twice. Karre got up from his desk and joined her at the conference table. As he bit into a cheese-filled roll, he watched Viktoria’s gaze wander over to the empty desk opposite Karre’s. A framed black-and-white photo of their dead colleague stood on the otherwise empty surface.

I wonder how long it’ll take me to get used to the idea that Götz is gone. Even though he hadn’t been himself lately, I’ve got a lot to thank him for. I learned a lot from him in my first year on the team. I can’t believe he’s never coming back.

Karre was searching for the right words when the phone on his desk came to life with a cheerful melody totally incongruous with the situation. He reached the desk with a few strides and picked up the receiver. He listened patiently to what the voice on the other end of the line had to report. When he hung up, his forehead was deeply creased.

Unfortunately, we’ll have to skip breakfast. But given what I’ve just heard, we’re probably better off with empty stomachs.

2

Karre and Viktoria arrived at the address twenty minutes later. The Sonnenplatz retirement home was a three-storeyed, flat-roofed building constructed in a U shape around a garden hidden from the street.

Looks like there are major renovations underway, said Viktoria, looking at the scaffolding that fully encased the building.

Karre nodded and brought the car to a stop in a parking bay near the entrance. He’d noted as they approached that the main entrance was already full of their colleagues’ vehicles. Two patrol cars, an ambulance and a hearse, as well as the usual entourage of coroner’s and forensics vans.

He surveyed the vehicles parked along the street. Evidently chief medical examiner Paul Gassner hadn’t rolled up in his green Porsche as he usually did at the weekend, but had arrived with the rest of the troops.

When they approached the main entrance on foot, Karre saw his colleague Karim Gökhan, whom he’d informed over the phone and who was now waving and walking towards them.

Karim’s wife Sila was pregnant, and Karre knew his colleague was grateful for every minute he could spend with her outside of his unpredictable work hours. Which made him regret even more having to call his valued colleague out to a crime scene on the weekend.

Sorry for ruining another Sunday with Sila, but given what I heard over the phone, I thought we should all look at this one together. Paul hasn’t ruled out a natural death, but when his intuition tells him we need to take a closer look, I trust him.

Paul Gassner rarely allowed them to drag any speculative theories out of him before he’d performed an autopsy, but when he did, they usually proved correct.

He’s waiting back there. Karim pointed at one of the two vans in the entrance to the property. The whole nine yards. Protective overalls, menthol paste.

Menthol paste? Karre eyed his colleague doubtfully. For years, Gassner had lectured them on why using the ‘odour concealer’ – as he disparagingly called the stuff that featured regularly in criminalistics literature – was superfluous in most situations. He was convinced it was largely used by squeamish medical examiners who didn’t have a problem with compromising the functioning of their senses while they worked. Since when did he start using that stuff? Is he getting old?

He said it’s not for him, it’s for us.

Oh dear. Viktoria wrinkled her nose. Then let’s have a look at what Paul’s got in store for us.

Paul Gassner was leaning against the van, drinking coffee from a brown plastic tumbler. When he saw the detective trio, he put it on the ground and met them at the back of the vehicle. Good morning all. I hope you haven’t had breakfast.

That bad? asked Viktoria.

Well, it’s not pretty. Gassner opened the tailgate and handed Karre, Karim and Viktoria each a pair of white overalls, shoe covers, face mask and gloves – although the latter were unnecessary, as they always carried their own.

The short, bald medical examiner was also wearing protective clothing, and resembled the Casper the Friendly Ghost.

Once the three investigators had slipped into their gear, Gassner passed a white plastic jar to Viktoria. As you know, I’m no fan of this stuff, but I think in this case you should make an exception and use it generously.

What’s the story in there? asked Karre. You don’t usually make such a fuss over a corpse.

Gassner grinned mysteriously. You’ll see soon enough, or should I say smell. Anyway, use it or don’t, but don’t say I didn’t warn you. And now get your arses up to the third floor.

As the spacious lift for transporting beds was out of action and they weren’t keen to struggle up the stairs in full get-up, they took the smaller lift. They stood tightly packed in the cubicle as it laboured its way from one floor to the next, swaying and shuddering alarmingly.

The air’s pretty thick in here, groaned Karim. Maybe we would’ve been better off taking the stairs.

In a few seconds you’ll appreciate the air in here. If I might offer some advice, inhale a lungful of air before the door opens. Gassner pulled the mask up over his mouth and nose as he spoke. Karre and Karim found the medical examiner’s words amusing, but Viktoria followed his lead and put on the mask that was dangling around her neck. The moment the lift came to a stop and the door opened, an unimaginably putrid stench of decay enveloped them.

Oh my God, gasped Viktoria, who wasn’t known among her colleagues for being the sensitive type.

Karre and Karim held their breath. They both yanked the masks up over their faces in a synchronised movement, so that only their eyes were visible between it and the hood. But this was enough to see the colour suddenly drain from their faces. Although wearing the mask made Karre feel better, it did little to block the sickly sweet stench of death that enveloped him like a poisonous cloud.

And? Did I exaggerate? asked Gassner, slightly amused. The smell of decomposition spread into the stairwell when the officers opened the apartment door.

Does anyone want some? asked Viktoria, holding the tub of menthol paste out to her colleagues, who shook their heads.

It won’t help much from this point on anyway, no matter how much of it your smear under your nose. It’s more of a psychological aid than anything. He turned out to be right. The moment the apartment door opened, another wave of putrefaction washed over them, the likes of which Karre had never experienced in all his years with the police.

Oh God, Viktoria groaned again behind him.

He’s in the bedroom, said Gassner, who seemed immune to the smell, or at least didn’t let his distaste show. Just follow your nose.

Hilarious, croaked Karre, wondering if it was unusually hot in the apartment, or if it was just the combination of unpleasant factors.

Is someone growing hemp in here, or why is it so hot? asked Karim, who was obviously feeling the same, to Karre’s relief.

The heating was turned right up. Gassner pointed at the ancient-looking heater units under the windowsills. There seems to be no thermostat, so presumably they’ve been running at full tilt for weeks.

Weeks? asked Karre. The body’s been lying here that long?

It seems so, yes.

Karre scanned the carpet. On close inspection he noticed white maggots wriggling here and there. The longer he looked, the more of the creatures he saw. Their number increased proportionately to the intensity of the putrid smell.

Gassner went through the bedroom door, and the others followed.

Once they were standing in front of the bed of the deceased, Karre had to suppress the urge to wretch. No, he’d never seen anything like it. The picture that presented itself to them made the sight of an exhumed body pale in comparison. At least a corpse that had been in the earth for years was dead, but this one seemed alive. It was writhing with maggots and flies. Like a living carpet, the animals swarmed over the bloated body, pouring in an endless stream from all orifices – eye sockets, mouth, nostrils, ears, and the fly of the pyjamas.

Judging by the clothing, it’s a male, right? Karre asked the medical examiner. It was impossible for him to recognise any physical attributes that revealed whether the body was that of a man or woman.

Yes, replied Gassner. The tenant is listed as being a Rudolf Goeßling. Born 1934. At least, that’s what the manager of the retirement home complex told the uniformed officers. A certain Anke Hoppe.

Hmm, so early eighties. Karre studied the mattress. It was saturated in a brownish-black fluid that trickled from various places on the gradually decomposing body. Over time, the body seemed to have merged with the mattress. Is this some kind of assisted living situation?

Apparently. Although I’d seriously call into question the use of the word ‘assisted’.

You mean because no one discovered or missed him until now?

I estimate he’s been lying here for at least three weeks. Although I’d have to double-check that due to the high temperature in here. The ambient temperature has a significant effect on the pace of decomposition. Especially when the temperature is so unnaturally high.

Do you think someone deliberately helped the process along?

Possibly. Or Goeßling – if that’s indeed who we’re looking at – liked it warm and toasty.

Were the windows all closed?

Yes.

Then where did all the maggots come from?

Those critters always find a way. They can smell a feast like this from miles away upwind. For example, there’s a ventilation grating in the kitchen over the oven, and the shafts for the heating pipes that run up to the chimney on the roof are anything but hermetically sealed.

I see. Do you know who found him?

Some kids were climbing around illegally on the scaffolding. And when they glanced through the window – completely coincidentally – one of them says he was barely able to stop himself falling backwards off the scaffolding. He must have almost jumped out of his skin when he discovered our friend in bed here.

I can imagine. Not something you find every day. Have the uniforms already taken their statements?

Why are you asking me? Gassner ran his gloved hand over the hood of his Tyvek suit.

He probably wasn’t sweating any less under there with his bald head than Karre with his short hair. He couldn’t imagine what it must be like for Viktoria with her crop of long, blonde hair. I thought someone might have said something.

I’m not sure anyone got anything out of those boys, except maybe their breakfast. The medical examiner turned back to the body.

Can you say if there’s any indication that someone did this to him? asked Karre. Other than the fact that it’s as hot as a sauna, I mean.

Hard to say. The skin is so leathery and dry that at first glance it’s impossible to draw any useful conclusions about external injuries. I’m afraid this time you’ll have to wait till I’ve looked at him in my lab. When I do the autopsy, I can examine him for bone injuries and internal bleeding in the deeper layers of muscle. I’ll be able to tell you more after that.

Karre looked around and saw Vierstein’s evidence team going about their task of searching for usable evidence, seemingly unaffected by the bestial stench. Karre knew they could count on Vierstein’s thoroughness, so he turned to Gassner and asked, Do you still need us here?

Gassner had already devoted his attention to the corpse once more and merely shook his head.

I think we’ve seen enough, said Karre.

3

Karre, Viktoria and Karim felt better after removing all their protective clothing, although the only thing that would ultimately wash away the lingering sense of disgust was a long, hot shower.

They were standing beside the forensics van, silently sipping coffee, when Paul approached, a distinctly unhappy expression on his face. Karre and his colleagues had known him long enough to assume it wasn’t because of the condition of the corpse. Gassner had a very thick skin when it came to that sort of thing.

Who walked over your grave?

Or in this case, over your shoes, teased Karim, pointing at the brownish-black fluid soaking into the medical examiner’s shoes.

Those amateurs! he spat, as he peeled off his protective gear. Those utterly idiotic amateurs!

Who are you talking about? Karim asked cautiously. And what crime have they committed to elicit such rage?

Stop mocking me. I’m really pissed off.

Yeah, I can see that. Are you going to tell us what happened?

I told those morons from the undertaker’s they could transport the body. I knew it wouldn’t be easy, but I didn’t think they’d cock it up that badly. He looked into the three questioning pairs of eyes. Fine, he sighed, I’ll tell you. But first I need coffee.

Viktoria climbed into the forensics van and returned shortly with a steaming cup of coffee. Three cheers for Vierstein’s crew! she said, handing it to Gassner.

Thank you. He closed his eyes and inhaled the aroma before he began his story. As you may have noticed, the body was quite well integrated into the mattress, due to the fluids draining out of it. And it was pretty unstable due to the advanced stage of decomposition. So there was only one way of getting him out of the apartment and onto my autopsy table undamaged. They had to cut away part of the mattress and put it into the bag along with the body. So far so good. As we established earlier, the large lift for transporting the tenants in their beds was out of order. Apparently only since midday Friday, but that’s not my concern. Because of this, and the fact that the undertakers didn’t feel like hauling our body down the stairwell along with the mattress and gurney in the body bag, they decided to use the smaller lift.

But how... Viktoria interrupted. I mean, it wouldn’t fit in there. After a brief pause, she added, At least, not lying down.

Exactly. So the good men leaned the gurney vertically against the wall of the lift. Unfortunately, I made the mistake of accompanying them down. He looked at his shoes. I’d already taken off the shoe covers outside the apartment door. As I said, the corpse was extremely unstable, so it collapsed when they tipped up the gurney. But that’s not the worst of it. The blasted body bag didn’t stand up to the load of the collapsed corpse and tore. You can imagine the rest. He looked at each of them.

Karim was the first to venture a reply. You’re not saying the body, the whole soup of fluids, blood and putrefied flesh poured out into the lift, are you?

What do you think, when my shoes look the way they do?

God, that’s grisly. Viktoria turned away and Karre thought she was going to throw up.

How are they going to clean that up? asked Karim pragmatically. It must be a huge mess.

I don’t give a damn about the mess, snapped Gassner. The worst thing is that now, instead of a body, I’ll have an undifferentiated gelatinous mass on my autopsy table.

Is it really that bad? asked Karre.

No, but still. It definitely won’t make it easier.

4

As he didn’t expect to receive any news on a Sunday from either Gassner or Vierstein concerning the autopsy or any evidence collected from Goeßling’s apartment, Karre gave Viktoria and Karim the rest of the day off. He himself wanted to pay a visit to Anke Hoppe, the manager of the retirement complex, before going home for what was left of the weekend.

Anke Hoppe’s office was on the ground floor of the U-shaped building, and was just big enough