Inspector Grotjahn And The Evil Voice: Hamburg Thriller

By Alfred Bekker

Inspector Grotjahn And The Evil Voice

by Alfred Bekker

 

This time, Hamburg detective Grotjahn has to deal with a particularly puzzling series of murders. Together with his colleague Charlotte Dröhnnkamp, Grotjahn tries to track down a mysterious conspiracy. The murder victims are Muslim businessmen from Hamburg. Are Islamists trying to collect their kind of God tax? Grotjahn and his colleagues are running out of time - because they absolutely have to prevent the next murder...

 

 

Alfred Bekker is a well-known author of fantasy novels, thrillers and books for young people. In addition to his major book successes, he has written numerous novels for suspense series such as Ren Dhark, Jerry Cotton, Cotton Reloaded, Kommissar X, John Sinclair, and Jessica Bannister. He has also published under the names Neal Chadwick, Henry Rohmer, Conny Walden, and Janet Farell.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Alfred Bekker
• Release date: Oct 19, 2022
• ISBN: 9798215366660

Alfred Bekker

Alfred Bekker wurde am 27.9.1964 in Borghorst (heute Steinfurt) geboren und wuchs in den münsterländischen Gemeinden Ladbergen und Lengerich auf. 1984 machte er Abitur, leistete danach Zivildienst auf der Pflegestation eines Altenheims und studierte an der Universität Osnabrück für das Lehramt an Grund- und Hauptschulen. Insgesamt 13 Jahre war er danach im Schuldienst tätig, bevor er sich ausschließlich der Schriftstellerei widmete. Schon als Student veröffentlichte Bekker zahlreiche Romane und Kurzgeschichten. Er war Mitautor zugkräftiger Romanserien wie Kommissar X, Jerry Cotton, Rhen Dhark, Bad Earth und Sternenfaust und schrieb eine Reihe von Kriminalromanen. Angeregt durch seine Tätigkeit als Lehrer wandte er sich schließlich auch dem Kinder- und Jugendbuch zu, wo er Buchserien wie 'Tatort Mittelalter', 'Da Vincis Fälle', 'Elbenkinder' und 'Die wilden Orks' entwickelte. Seine Fantasy-Romane um 'Das Reich der Elben', die 'DrachenErde-Saga' und die 'Gorian'-Trilogie machten ihn einem großen Publikum bekannt. Darüber hinaus schreibt er weiterhin Krimis und gemeinsam mit seiner Frau unter dem Pseudonym Conny Walden historische Romane. Einige Gruselromane für Teenager verfasste er unter dem Namen John Devlin. Für Krimis verwendete er auch das Pseudonym Neal Chadwick. Seine Romane erschienen u.a. bei Blanvalet, BVK, Goldmann, Lyx, Schneiderbuch, Arena, dtv, Ueberreuter und Bastei Lübbe und wurden in zahlreiche Sprachen übersetzt.

Book preview

Inspector Grotjahn And The Evil Voice

by Alfred Bekker

This time, Hamburg detective Grotjahn has to deal with a particularly puzzling series of murders. Together with his colleague Charlotte Dröhnnkamp, Grotjahn tries to track down a mysterious conspiracy. The murder victims are Muslim businessmen from Hamburg. Are Islamists trying to collect their kind of God tax? Grotjahn and his colleagues are running out of time - because they absolutely have to prevent the next murder...

––––––––

Alfred Bekker is a well-known author of fantasy novels, thrillers and books for young people. In addition to his major book successes, he has written numerous novels for suspense series such as Ren Dhark, Jerry Cotton, Cotton Reloaded, Kommissar X, John Sinclair, and Jessica Bannister. He has also published under the names Neal Chadwick, Henry Rohmer, Conny Walden, and Janet Farell.

Copyright

A CassiopeiaPress book: CASSIOPEIAPRESS, UKSAK E-Books, Alfred Bekker, Alfred Bekker presents, Casssiopeia-XXX-press, Alfredbooks, Uksak Special Edition, Cassiopeiapress Extra Edition, Cassiopeiapress/AlfredBooks and BEKKERpublishing are imprints of

Alfred Bekker

© Roman by Author

© of this issue 2022 by AlfredBekker/CassiopeiaPress, Lengerich/Westphalia

The invented persons have nothing to do with actual living persons. Similarities in names are coincidental and not intended.

All rights reserved.

www.AlfredBekker.de

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Everything about fiction!

1

Hamburg is the capital of party Germany.

I thought, what would Berlin be?

You're not up to speed on that, Grotjahn.

Oh, what!

Grotjahn was out clubbing in Hamburg that night with Mario Spano. Mario Spano was his buddy. And his colleague in a criminal police special operations team, or SE team for short.

Some said Mario Spano was a bad influence on Grotjahn.

Grotjahn himself did not think so.

But who can judge such things for themselves?

The basses were booming. In the diffuse glittering light that prevailed in the club, the dancers could be seen like shadows. Shadowy figures who were put into a kind of trance by the pounding rhythm.

You had to speak very loudly to be able to communicate at all.

The basses pressed into the stomach.

Grotjahn could remember liking that once.

But that was a long time ago.

Very long.

Since the exchange year back in America, that had changed....

There had also been an acoustic pressure wave that pressed into the stomach and deafened the ears. Only it had nothing to do with music, but with an explosion. Better said: with several explosions...

The feeling of bass in his stomach now reminded Grotjahn.

He didn't really want to think about it. He didn't want to think about that time,. but that was impossible. It just happened. There was nothing he could do about it.

The booming bass had now been a trigger.

That was clear to Grotjahn at that moment.

However, it did not change anything.

I should never have come here, it went through Grotjahn's head. But it was simply that he had not suspected that he would react so sensitively.

It was absurd.

Grotjahn had held so many lengthy observations, which had taken place in places where the basses pressed into the stomach just as fiercely as here. And yet he had never minded it until now. Nor had he ever associated it with his incriminating memories.

That had only just happened.

At this moment.

And the reason for this was not clear to him.

Perhaps there was none at all.

Here you can really let off steam! exclaimed Mario Spano, grinning. Let your hair down. You're a different person here, you know?

I think I need to go outside, Grotjahn said.

Why is that?

Just is.

Are you a girl or what?

Fuck you!

It's okay, it's okay! I don't know why you're so sensitive today, kid. Always stay easy and breathe through your pants. Let things come to you in a relaxed way!

Fuck it.

Well, doesn't sound loose!

*

A little later they were outside, in the fresh air. The bass and dr Ducl in the stomach were only an unpleasant memory for Grotjahn. The fresh air did him good. From somewhere, a ship's foghorn mixed with the street noise of the night, because Hamburg is also a city that rarely sleeps.

Grotjahn took a deep breath.

Very deep.

The clear. cold air of this night ensured that his head also became a little clearer again.

At least a little bit.

But that was already more than could be expected.

Mario Spano rolled himself a cigarette.

He did this as if he were performing a ritual.

Never else could one observe such seriousness in Mario Spano.

Never else.

Not even in church, because he didn't go there anyway.

In movies, only criminals and Russians smoked, or so it was said. In real life, no one smoked like Mario Spano. He pulled on the cigarette, it glowed, he puffed out the smoke and Grotjahn felt reminded of a movie from the seventies. People just didn't do things like that anymore. Life had become healthier. And perhaps also a bit more puritanical, more ascetic. Grotjahn wasn't sure if that was really a benefit.  But he had not experienced the really good, free times anyway. That was called the disgrace of being born too late.

Are you going to tell me what's wrong with you, kid? asked Mario Spano then.

Doesn't matter.

You ran out of the club like you really needed to take a shit!

It's okay!

But you didn't go to the bathroom, you just went outside. Did someone recognize you? Did someone come after you?  Did you ever make an unpleasant noise here? Can you tell me. How many times do you think I've stood out unpleasantly somewhere.

I can imagine.

So you can count on some understanding from me.

I don't need an understanding.

No?

Just fresh air.

He blew the smoke toward Grotjahn.

Grotjahn didn't really like cigarette smoke.

He was not a smoker anyway.

So you really think that this is all just a problem that has to do with breathing and good air.

Yes, that's what I mean.

Sorry.

Sorry for what?

That where I am, it always stinks.

Oh, come on!

Isn't it true!  Is that what you wanted to say?

No.

Well, you succeeded. And you know what? I don't even blame you, kid. The reason I don't hold it against you is because, basically, you're actually right.

Grotjahn said nothing about it.

He simply remained silent.

His thoughts suddenly seemed to be very far away. In a place where Mario Spano could not follow him.

What do you say to that? asked Mario Spano.

Just stop babbling, Grotjahn said.

But Mario Spano waved it off.

Don't give me that! he said.

How?

Then I'll call you by your first name!

Grotjahn looked up.

His eyes narrowed.

Paul-Hinrich Grotjahn was his full name. But didn't like his first name and preferred it when people just called him Grotjahn short and sweet.

You could forget about Paul-Hinrich.

The gazes of the two men met.

That Mario Spano, threatened to do so,

*

A few days later...

Mr. Grotjahn?

It took a few moments for the voice to penetrate Grotjahn's thoughts and actually reach him.

Are you all right, Mr. Grotjahn?

It's all right.

You sure?

I might be a little tired, that's all.

"You will learn to open up and that will lighten you up. You will learn that you are not alone with your problem, and that alone will relieve you. And