The New Assistant

Ron and Bodnar sat in the meeting room with Morgentau, listening to her report. Rosa, as ordered by President Wallner, had removed her velvet gloves and put on black leather gloves to beat old Mrs. Halter. She had torn Mrs. Halter's blouse off and began systematically beating the astonished, half-naked woman with the leather gloves. Yes, she punched her in the face for minutes at a time, taking great care not to leave any bruises. She screamed at Mrs. Halter, saying she would beat her most intimate secrets out of her. Every secret, no matter how intimate! After fifteen minutes, the old woman's resistance crumbled. She had realized that she had to reveal a few secrets to receive fewer beatings. She sobbed that she was ready to answer everything. "But please, no more beatings!"

Criminal psychologist Rosa Morgenthal then interrogated Mrs. Halter intensively for hours and was quite satisfied with her interrogation.

Rosa mentally ticked off another incest case, smiled contentedly, and abruptly changed the subject. "Did he leave anything here, hide anything, or keep anything when he came to prison?" Mrs. Halter opened her eyes. "Yes, he hid three sports bags in the cellar; I was supposed to keep a close eye on them. I only opened the bags once out of curiosity; they were crammed full of banknotes. He took them with him, but I don't know where." Rosa had Mrs. Halter show her the size of the bags with her hands. She guessed there were millions. Three, maybe even four million.

Ron and Bodnar looked at each other. It was now clear that Frank had complete freedom of movement. With that much money, one could have bought a sizable house on the beach in the Caribbean. It was completely unclear what Frank still intended to do. That would soon become apparent.

A patrol car found the two officers unconscious. They were taken to the hospital. One underwent emergency surgery; a fragment of his skull had penetrated his brain. His condition was critical. The second officer was lucky; although the perpetrator had knocked out all his teeth, they were already dentures. Despite the concussion, he was able to give a statement. The perpetrator, who matched Frank's description, had smashed his colleague's skull with an object, presumably a car jack, and then struck him twice himself. The protected person, Franziska Meier, had vanished without a trace.

Frank proceeded calmly, without panicking. He had a list to work through, and the bodyguards didn't stop him. On the contrary, he sent another letter to Ron.

To Inspector Hofstätter.

Those guys couldn't protect Franziska. I had every right to beat them up. You even sent a policewoman to my mother's house to senselessly beat the poor thing. I can't accept that. I get very angry when you don't leave my mother alone. She has absolutely nothing to do with this.

F.J.H.

The lab examined the letter, of course, but without any new findings. It came from Frank, without a doubt. The bicycle courier was completely clean, as always. The letter only confirmed that Frank had kidnapped Franziska. There was no indication of when, where, or even if she was still alive.

President Wallner was seething with rage. Now two police officers had also been injured, one fighting for his life. Wallner ordered that every single police officer carry the wanted poster of Frank Halter with them and help with the search. Never before had Wallner been seen so agitated. The days passed, one, two, three. And nothing progressed. Wallner was irritated. What had the wiretap revealed? Morgentau looked Wallner in the eye. "Mrs. Halter only has a landline. She almost never uses the phone, and when she does, it turns out to be completely harmless. She doesn't have a cell phone." Wallner wasn't satisfied. "Perhaps she only turns it on at certain times? When it's switched off, it can't be located; it's as dead as a brick. Did I understand that correctly?"

Everyone nodded. Ron suggested perhaps they should set up an electronic listening post in front of Mrs. Halter's house? Everyone remained silent; only the president could authorize the mobile broadcast unit. Wallner barked at Ron to get the van. "24/7," the president added. Ron already had his cell phone to his ear.

They were simply lucky. Ms. Halter switched on her cell phone at exactly 10 p.m. and switched it off again immediately after a few words. Frank called her back, and the conversation was recorded. The group listened to it a dozen times. All unimportant, inconsequential. But toward the end, she asked when he would be back. He replied, "I have to deliver a package tomorrow, so I'll come tomorrow night." This was both a good and a bad development; they now knew that he would kill and dispose of Franziska tomorrow. And that he would come to his mother's tomorrow night. Presumably, his mother knew what the package was about.

The next day, a bicycle courier delivered a letter for Ron.

For Inspector Hofstätter.

You're still a few steps behind. That's good. Franziska is nice and warm; she's 17.2 meters below the Ottakringer Brewery. You'll hear from me again.

F.J.H.

They had to think carefully about what was 17 meters below the brewery and how to get there. They couldn't just dig up the entire brewery floor! The brewery plans were very old. There were later additions, but nothing concrete. Bodnar had the right question: How is the brewery heated? Certain parts of the brewery were heated with their own heating systems; only the new office wing was connected to the district heating network. The new pipes hadn't yet been included in the building plans. Bodnar crawled along the pipes and reached a small cellar. There, on the district heating pipe, lay Franziska's body. Nice and warm.

The cellar filled up, and Dr. Gangl examined the body thoroughly, as always. It was Frank, no question. The mark on her neck was from a wire, a garrote. Of course, she was naked, and after a quick glance, the doctor said he hadn't used a condom again. Frank knew his DNA was known and was hiding nothing anymore. Franziska's wrists were still bound with wire; the gag was her own panties.

They opened Franziska Meier's file. She, too, had been an informant in Artem Galebnikov's circle seven years earlier and, after completing her criminology studies, had joined the police force; she was now a chief inspector. She was engaged to an assistant professor and four months pregnant. Dr. Gangl was shaken; there were too many. Thea Küngler, Susanne Stammer, Theresa Stanzl, Bina Mudak, and now Franziska Meier. Five dead young girls — the doctor had never seen such a cluster.

Rosa Morgentau went to Mrs. Halter's after lunch; Wallner had ordered it. They had to provoke Frank, poke him. And the mother was the only weak spot he had. Morgentau, who had acted rather sensitively in recent days, remembered that the mother hadn't given anything up willingly and had only reluctantly admitted anything under duress. She had persistently lied about the contacts. Rosa felt the discovery of the cell phone as a personal defeat. Without a greeting, she entered the house and struck the completely surprised woman several times in the face with her gloved hand. Rosa screamed about how disappointed she was. She ripped the old woman's blouse off and pushed the completely taken-aback, half-naked woman onto the sofa. She took the dog whip from her bag and beat the poor woman. She slapped her shoulders, back, buttocks, inner thighs, and calves until Roxane Halter's body was covered from head to toe in red welts. Rosa screamed that she would come back every day until they caught Frank. She left the old woman lying there.

Ron disagreed with the president's order to implicate Frank's mother. Flogging her was pure torture; it violated dozens of laws. The president brushed aside all these arguments. "Does anyone have a better suggestion? Can anyone tell me what else we can use to get Frank?!" Ron said into the silence, "We normally investigate within the guardrails of the law, left and right. We are law enforcers, not lawbreakers. We never stoop to the level of criminals!"

President Wallner clapped very slowly. His foxy eyes flashed. "You're absolutely right, my young knight! But — if we don't draw him out of hiding, he'll leave a dead body on our doorstep week after week. Can you live with that on your conscience, dear Ronald!?" There was a silence, thick enough to cut with a knife.

Ron knew that the president was basically right. To scare away wasps, you set fires. "Mr. President," he said, rising to his feet, "I know that your tactic is the right one, the only one really. Like everyone here, I want to bring the criminal to justice, dead or alive, once and for all. But I also know that I'm not the only one with moral qualms. And moral qualms paralyze us. We fight with one eye and one hand tied behind our backs. We will carry out your orders because we are good soldiers, all of us. Doing our job, like good soldiers who follow the leader." Ron looked around the room. Bodnar was the first to clench his fist and drum his approval on the tabletop. The others followed his example.

Morgentau now whipped Frank's mother every day. On the third day, a letter arrived from Frank.

To Inspector Hofstätter.

You're torturing my mother, you damned dog! She's taking it,' she said, weeping. She will always stand by my side, whatever you plot in your sick mind. I will beat you, I will beat you all! Be warned!

F.J.H.

It was clear that they had dealt Frank Halter a heavy blow. From his words, it was clear that the president was on the right track.

Things happened very quickly. Ron accepted the imam's invitation to his office next to the prayer room. Imam Museddin was flanked by two sinister figures whom Ron didn't recognize. The imam greeted Hakim Elbagr with professional courtesy and introduced the men by name. He got straight to the point. Fatme's relatives had filed a lawsuit. Hakim had received the court summons two days earlier. The imam made a regretful face. "Following your laws," the imam said, "you know that better than I do, you're a policeman, Hakim." The conversation went nowhere. Ron sensed the hostility of the two men, who silently sized him up. He didn't know for sure, of course, but he suspected they had come directly from Turkey, harbingers of a new attempt to gain a foothold in Vienna. Vienna had once been a central mafia hub in Europe, one that had been dismantled with Ron's help. The imam fearfully avoided any further questions. And so Hakim ended the conversation.

The next day he was in court. The judge, Dr. Hans Fürbringer, had known Ron for a long time. He was a clever man and knew perfectly well that some in the Islamic community were trying to bring down Police Inspector Hofstätter through legal means. "How long have you known Fatme Ökdemir, Inspector?" Ron only hesitated for two seconds. He decided to stick to the truth. "Two years, more or less." Judge Fürbringer looked up from the papers. "Two years? Ökdemir was still a minor then. Do you stand by that?" Ron didn't grasp at the saving grace. "Two years, Mr. Fürbringer," he confirmed. "Two."

The judge leaned back, disappointed. "With a minor, then. That will lead to your suspension, Hofstätter, do you realize that?" Ron nodded. "Yes, I know. I accept the sentence, whatever it may be. I will not lie about this, Mr. Fürbringer." The judge looked at him sternly. "Very well, Inspector Hofstätter. We want to avoid a public trial, don't we?" Ron nodded in agreement. "A public trial could do me more harm than good, Mr. Fürbringer." The judge leafed through the papers for several minutes. "What's the sentence?" Ron asked directly, the matter clearly making him very uncomfortable.

"Taking into account your service as a police officer and your impeccable record, I can issue a suspended sentence of one year. Plus a fine of 1,700 euros. The police commissioner will be notified of the conviction. All right, Inspector?" It was a purely rhetorical question. Ron went straight to Commissioner Wallner.

Old Wallner listened attentively. He asked only a few questions. He picked up a folder and looked for a regulation in the service code. He looked very serious. "I have to suspend you; there's no way around it. So, from the beginning of the month, and it ends tomorrow morning. It will be recorded in writing in your personnel file. I can't do more for you, Hofstätter!" Ron thanked him and left.

Dr. Ingrid Kreuzer had been missing for three days and had been reported missing by her husband. Morgentau had seen the entry while skimming through the weekly reports, as she did every week. The name sounded familiar. Right, she had represented the prosecution against Artem Galebnikov seven years earlier. And now she was missing? The lawyer was a mother of two and five months pregnant with her third. Morgentau immediately alerted the Kleeblatt. Dr. Kreuzer led an inconspicuous life; there was no connection to Frank Halter other than her role seven years prior. They searched for her in all possible locations, but she remained missing until the Czech police called Wallner.

Czech border guards had found a woman's body this morning right on the border in České Velčine. They were aware of the series of murders in Vienna. Everything indicated that the body fit the pattern of murders. The president looked at the photos from the scene. Yes, it seemed to be Frank's doing. The Czechs didn't want any lengthy bureaucratic procedures; they sent the body to Vienna immediately because it had been placed precisely on the border. Dr. Gangl examined it and performed the autopsy. Everything indicated that Dr. Kreuzer was the sixth victim. The baby, a boy, was also dead, victim number seven. The lawyer had been abused just as brutally as the others, apparently for several days, as the doctor was able to determine. She had a blood alcohol level of 0.24% and had been heavily aroused with poppers, like all the other victims before her. The group was disturbed; they couldn't place every woman involved in the Artem Galebnikov trial under police protection — there were simply too many.

Nothing happened; Frank didn't budge. President Wallner had to take action. The mother was arrested and released again after 48 hours. Several times in a row. But Frank didn't move.

Ron went into his office. He wanted to print the dozen voice recordings, but he didn't know how. The printing program refused to work. The screen instructed him to swipe his badge through the card reader when the green light flashed. He did so. He was supposed to place his thumb on the flashing green light. "Thank you, Inspector Hofstätter," a voice said from the speakers. Ron was surprised and confused. Who? What?

"I'm RM3000 QXK," the voice said, "the new AI assistant. I'm also the new telephone system, Inspector." Ron stared at the telephone system. How could this be? "Am I correct in understanding that you want to print the transcripts of the 31 voice recordings?" Ron nodded, annoyed. "Yes, I wanted to proofread them before printing." He was very impressed; he was talking to a computer! The laser printer started printing, and Ron picked up the first few pages.

It was amazing how clearly structured his report now was. "Very good," he murmured. The robot replied, "I was assigned to you by President Wallner as your personal assistant. I can handle anything related to electronics. I'm still a prototype, and I use AI, artificial intelligence, to perform my duties. In addition to general police tasks, I've been specifically trained in CCTV surveillance. I can see, read, and hear everything through the cameras, speakers, and telephones. I have access to all the knowledge stored in the databases." Ron thought for a moment. "How should I address you?" "RM3000 QXK, I don't have another name yet. You can assign one if you like." Ron only thought for a moment. "Alfred, I'll call you Alfred. I'm Ron, and I respond to this name." Alfred asked, "Does Alfred have a special meaning for Ron?" Ron chuckled softly. "Alfred is Batman's clever, all-knowing butler, portrayed by the actor Michael Caine." The portrait of Alfred/Michael Caine appeared on the screen. "I can adjust my voice," Alfred said. Ron nodded. "Can you see me? Are we in visual contact?" "Of course, Ron, I can see you."

Ron thought for a moment. "Do you know which two men I met at the imam's yesterday?" Alfred answered immediately. "Yes, they arrived by plane from Ankara five weeks ago. They call themselves Memet Üzelgöy and Ali Mehmet, presumably with forged passports. They're staying at the Hotel Ambassador, currently in room 601, and have two prostitutes visiting them. They're high-ranking members of the Turkish mafia and have previously visited a dozen imams in Austria and Bavaria." Alfred asked if he should find out more, but Ron waved him off. "That's enough for now. But keep watching them, I want to know what they're doing every day. Prostitutes aren't interesting."

Ron devoted the next few minutes to the case. Frank remained motionless, and no one had seen him. Tips from the public yielded nothing. The president had the wanted poster shown on television several times a day; perhaps someone had seen Frank. Alfred, who answered with a very faint chirp, asked if he shouldn't take over all the cameras in the city to search for Frank. Ron nodded. "Have you seen him yet?" Alfred said, "Last time was the night before last at the ATM on the corner of Wellerstrasse. He withdrew four thousand euros in cash using ten cards. He then headed south, and hasn't been seen since. I updated the wanted poster, and that's how I was able to find him. I'll show you a current picture from the ATM." A photo appeared on the screen; Frank was clearly recognizable. The picture was much clearer than the seven-year-old wanted poster. Ron walked over to the cloverleaf-shaped building.

Ron went to the projection screen. "Alfred, the new picture, please!" Bodnar glared at him. "Who...?" Frank's picture appeared, and now even President Wallner stood up and came to the door. Ron hesitated for just a moment. "Alfred, please introduce yourself!" "I'm Alfred, Inspector Hofstätter's computer assistant. I have access to all databases, all cameras, cell phones, and all telephones, wherever they may be. I assist Ron with his work on behalf of President Johannes Wallner." Everyone turned and looked at Wallner. He shrugged, clueless! He remembered that he had signed hundreds of documents when the Minister of the Interior had given the order. Had he ordered this computer? No idea!

Morgentau was the first to compose herself. "Alfred, Frank Halter has been in hiding for a long time; he dumped a woman's body near the Czech border. What do you know about that?" Alfred answered quickly. "I'm familiar with the reports, just like you. I tracked the stolen car, a stolen VW Passat. It was hidden at a construction site near the Seestadt subway station that afternoon. He began copulating with the woman in the back seat at 3:17 p.m. and continued until 3:48 p.m., then copulating again from 6:33 p.m. to 6:55 p.m. Unfortunately, the footage from a great distance is very blurry, as you can see. A traffic camera captured him at 7:21 p.m. on the evening of May 12th. He was driving the car with Dr. Kreuzer in the back seat, asleep, unconscious, or drugged." The blurred photo was projected. Alfred zoomed in on the driver, then on the woman's face in the back seat. He continued. "Four hours later, at 11:22 p.m., the car was driving in the opposite direction, with Frank Halter at the wheel, the back seat empty. It was captured by three more traffic cameras on its way back to Vienna." Three images were projected. "He parks the car near the Seestadt subway station at 1:00 a.m. and disappears at 1:06 a.m. on a U2 train towards Schwedenplatz, where a camera captures him as late as 1:27 a.m. He takes the escalator up to Schwedenplatz, then vanishes. He seems to know where the cameras are placed and skillfully avoids them." Alfred's pleasant voice is almost soporific. "Ms. Detective Morgentau, I can print the report if you wish." Rosa's pen paused. "Yes, please, Alfred!" And so it came to pass that Alfred was gradually accepted by the Kleeblatt (a local police unit) as a valuable member of staff.

Sometime around 2:00 a.m., two muffled shots rang out in Döbling. A dog walker was out with his pet and saw the brief flash, but he was too far away to hear it. About ten minutes later, he went in the opposite direction and saw a masked man throw an oblong object into a white van and drive off immediately. He found the two police officers in a private car and called emergency services at 2:21 a.m. The two officers underwent immediate surgery and would most likely survive. They could not yet be questioned. All they had was the information from the elderly dog owner, who didn't know the make or license plate number. Police officer Erni Jäger, who was supposed to be protected, had vanished without a trace. Frank's handiwork. President Wallner, roused from his sleep, immediately ordered Ms. Halter's arrest. He had no intention of releasing her; he was seething with rage. Frank was taking advantage of them!

The search for Erni Jäger, the eighth victim, was in full swing. Abandoned buildings all over the city were scoured. Frank was nowhere to be found; he avoided cameras whenever he moved. It was maddening. Ron was distracted himself. He was with Wallner in the interrogation room; the old man was personally conducting Roxane Halter's interrogation. It was astonishing how skillfully the foxy old fox elicited small, seemingly insignificant statements from Halter. They were only trivialities, but Wallner managed to extract something important from the woman. Frank used a secret door completely covered in ivy. That, at least, was progress.

A bicycle messenger delivered another letter from Frank Halter.

Inspector Hofstätter,

You haven't yet discovered the package at the landfill at the end of Feldbergstrasse.

Why?

Three male corpses were found, wrapped in plastic, mutilated, and presumably tortured. They were the judge, the public prosecutor, and a defense attorney from Artem and Frank's trial. They had been dead since the long weekend, so no one had noticed they were missing.

President Wallner was stunned. He had known all three; he had a long friendship with the judge that extended beyond their professional relationship. It made his stomach churn to see how miserably and presumably after excruciating torture the old judge had died; he hadn't deserved that. Everything bore Frank Halter's signature; the strangulation or garroting with a wire noose was unique. Wallner sat with an ashen face in front of the screen, staring at the documents. He had mobilized all available personnel to find the crime scene, as nothing had been found at the dumping site. He had done everything to intensify the hunt for Frank Halter, but there were no new leads. He stared blankly at the screen, fragments of memory of the last cognac with Judge Anselmis flashing before his eyes. Frank Halter was clearly on the verge of murdering everyone involved in the trial against his father and himself.

But Ron Hofstätter didn't witness any of this. He was walking down Türkenstraße toward the Roßauer Barracks when a syringe was rammed into his neck from behind. The assassin caught the falling man from behind and threw him into a van.

Then night fell before his eyes.

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