Time Heals No Wounds (22 page)

“I’m afraid they’re not official sources, but I have some time this afternoon. If you want, I can help you with the research. And, no, I wouldn’t blab about it to your boss. You’ll probably get somewhere with my help.”

“All right,” Hannes said. “But what I need are facts.”

“I’ll give you facts,” Ben said. “I can assure you that we conduct a thorough investigation before staging any protest. We won’t be picketing an innocent business tonight.”

Hannes felt guilty the moment Ben mentioned his protest against Lagussa. “By the way, I’ll be at this gala for a little while this evening. Don’t you think it would be a good idea to hold off until we’ve solved Ms. Ternheim’s murder?”

“The two have nothing to do with each other. This is a unique opportunity, and we don’t want to miss it. If I showed you everything we know, you’d probably agree.”

Hannes doubted it but did not press the issue. He played fetch with Socks while Ben made some lunch. Half an hour later, he placed two steaming plates of spaghetti in front of them, filled Socks’s bowl, and turned on his laptop.

“You’re not going to find what you’re looking for using a regular search engine. I told you already that everything was covered up. But maybe Lagussa’s just been lucky until now and no one has ever thought to take a closer look at the company. We only stumbled on it by accident when an informant leaked to us a list of companies that supposedly had special status under Hitler. The validity of this list was pretty questionable because much of our research led nowhere. That doesn’t necessarily mean that the list was wrong, just that we were unable to find anything out about most companies on it. Lagussa, however, was a different story.”

He pushed a forkful of spaghetti into his mouth and continued while chewing. “We’re part of a network of various groups, such as victims’ organizations, social institutions, and other private initiatives. That way, we all have access to a larger amount of data, documents, and eyewitness accounts. We’ve also created an Internet forum where we can exchange what we know, and this is where we began our search.”

Ben opened a website. After he logged in, a new window opened with several forums. “Here.” He pointed to a link called “Lagussa—Active Player during the Nazi Regime?” “We started this thread and asked if anyone knew anything about Lagussa. Several people quickly responded, saying they could help, including someone whose father had been a forced laborer at Lagussa, or North German Chemical and Pharmaceutical Works as the company was then known. He described in detail the torment his father suffered. There was little concern for the health and safety of the workers. The smallest alleged transgressions were punished with abuse, arrest, or deprivation of ration stamps.”

“Why were the Nazis even interested in the company?”

“Chemical knowledge was a prerequisite for the production of war materials. Plus, the Nazis were interested in vaccines against poisonous gases and diseases like typhus. They were looking to increase the strength of their troops during the war.”

“But Lagussa manufactures psychotropic drugs. Were they trying to protect the soldiers from depression? Given the nightmares they witnessed, that would make sense. But I don’t see the Nazis being too concerned with philanthropy.”

“No, you can safely say they didn’t know what philanthropy was. The Nazis had ulterior motives for everything they did. For example, they were very interested in stimulants, because they hoped to shorten the amount of time soldiers needed to sleep and increase the amount of time they spent on the battlefield. You also have to realize that Lagussa only focused on producing psychotropic drugs in the early seventies. NGCP made a lot more than just drugs at the time, and even if the company wasn’t one of the big players, they certainly weren’t going to say no to the Nazi’s contributions.”

“How many forced laborers worked for the company?”

“It’s impossible to give a realistic estimate. As you can imagine, many records and documents disappeared after the war. According to most estimates, at least eleven million people were abused as forced laborers in the German Reich and the occupied territories. Look here! We’ve created an archive where we store documents related to NGCP so anyone who has access to the site can add and view documents. Here we have two documents from 1941 in which NGCP requested a total of 150 laborers, most of them from Poland.”

Ben also showed him correspondence between Nazi authorities and NGCP. In most cases, it was about the allocation of raw materials. There were also several photos of an assembly line. Even if the photos were grainy, “North German Chemical and Pharmaceutical Works” could clearly be made out on a wall in the background.

“Of particular interest is this letter here,” Ben said and opened a short document dated January 23, 1940. “The addressee was a bank which handled the accounts for the Nazi Party. It acknowledged a transfer of more than 100,000 Reichsmarks. That was a princely sum, especially since, as I said, NGCP was only a medium-sized company.”

“Who ran NGCP then?”

“The company was run by its founder, Heinrich Ternheim. He was the grandfather of the current managing director. But the father of Helene and Christian Ternheim also had an important role in the company at that time. Heinrich Ternheim, today better known as Merlin, was born in 1919 and was only fourteen when the Nazis came to power, so he grew up with the National Socialist ideology. It comes as no surprise that he joined the Hitler Youth at fifteen. At eighteen, he became a member of the Nazi Party and manager at the company. His managerial responsibilities later saved him from being drafted during the war, even though he would have been a prime candidate given that he was twenty-one.”

“Clever,” Hannes said.

“Right. The Ternheims may have supported the Nazis for years, but they let others take the fall. And in more ways than one. In addition to the use of forced labor, there is still another deep, dark chapter in their past: testing on humans!”

Hannes’s pulse quickened. His compassion for the old painter waned. “So not only did they use forced labor, but they also experimented on people?”

“Not on the forced laborers. Cheap labor was far too valuable. No, there was another group of helpless people with an almost inexhaustible supply: concentration camp prisoners!”

Hannes began to feel sick.

“The first concentration camps were established as early as 1933. At first, only political opponents were imprisoned, but that changed. Anyone who didn’t meet the sick image the Nazis had of people could now expect to be interned. Anyone sent to the camps also ran the danger of being used for medical experiments. Vaccines were tested, chemotherapy drugs injected, and wounds like ones caused by incendiary bombs inflicted—often without anesthesia. Even children were tortured in the most bestial of ways. Most victims died an agonizing death; others were eliminated in the gas chambers. Few survived, and most remained physically and psychologically destroyed for the rest of their lives.”

“And NGCP was involved?”

“They didn’t conduct the experiments themselves; the camp doctors were responsible for that. But here’s a delivery receipt that was leaked to us. It shows that NGCP sent some sort of drug to the medical officer of a concentration camp.” Ben opened another file. “Unfortunately, we don’t know what kind of drug. It’s only referred to as Compound 3282. This is also the only delivery receipt we’ve seen so far.”

“And what are these?” asked Hannes, pointing to some image files.

“Those are images of test subjects.” Ben opened one. “This man here actually survived the ordeal. He was one of the unfortunate ones they experimented on with the incendiary bomb wounds. The picture was taken five years after his release. As you can see, he’s disfigured.”

Even Ben’s voice had faltered; Hannes gulped.

“Since we do not know what NGCP delivered to the concentration camp, we can only guess what suffering the drug inflicted. NGCP definitely had nothing to do with incendiary bombs. I bet it was a tuberculosis vaccine: researchers have proven that the company was working on one then.”

“Why wasn’t NGCP held accountable during the trials?”

“At first, the focus was on the major war criminals, and NGCP was a small fish. Plus, this delivery receipt only recently surfaced.”

“Maybe it’s a forgery?”

“I don’t think so. Why would it be? Who would have an interest in pinning something like that on Lagussa? Once this document was uploaded, another witness came forward. His mother was a victim of concentration camp experiments. She’d told her son when he was growing up that she had been injected with something that had four letters printed on the packaging. He couldn’t remember these letters for a long time—after all, he was just a child. But he told us he heard her voice in his head as he read our documents. He’s certain those four letters were NGCP.”

“So the woman survived?”

“Yes, but with serious side effects. According to her son, she suffered from so-called concentration camp syndrome, a type of post-traumatic stress disorder. In addition to physical ailments, she suffered from anxiety, depression, and nightmares. She took her own life.”

They sat in silence. Only Socks’s panting could be heard. The sun shone on Hannes, and it was inconceivable to him how completely different this country must have looked seventy years ago.

“Do you understand now why I’m committed to fighting neo-Nazis? It’s bad enough to hear about these events and to know that they actually occurred. It’s even harder to bear the thought that my own grandfather was murdered by these criminals.”

Hannes nodded. He understood Ben only too well.

“So you see, Luther’s famous words also apply to me.” Ben found his irresistible grin again. “‘Here I stand; I cannot do otherwise.’ That’s why I can’t take your new friendship with the young executive assistant at Lagussa into consideration. I have to go through with it tonight. We’ve created a website containing all the documents that show the company’s connection to the Nazi Party. It will go live tonight. I have to go again, but you can browse through the archive on your own. Maybe you’ll find something. I’ll write down my username and password. Without the password, you can’t log back in to the forum. Can I leave Socks with you again?”

“Sure. When will you be back?”

Ben pushed himself up from his chair and went outside to grab his bike. “I don’t know yet. Just lock Socks inside if you have to go somewhere. But make sure he goes beforehand!”

Ben whistled softly as he pushed the bike across the lawn and disappeared around the corner. Hannes watched him go, lost in thought, then grabbed the laptop.

F
RIDAY
E
VENING

How she loathed this darkness! When Merle had painted her room black as a teenager and blocked out all the light, the darkness had protected and comforted her. Now it posed a constant threat.

After eating the pizza, she had walked around the room for hours and anxiously waited for the onset of fatigue. Her watch battery had died, and Merle had lost all sense of time.

Now she was sitting back in front of the steel door, trying to force the edge of the wooden food tray into the door’s narrow gap to use as a lever. She kept failing until finally the tray became slightly wedged. She pushed with all her might against the other end, but the wood broke and drove a splinter deep into her right hand. In pain, she grabbed hold of the big splinter and pulled it out.

“At least now I can end this all myself,” she said and laughed. And to prove it, she placed the pointed end of the splinter against the veins in her wrist and pushed. That would do.

But then rage boiled over. Before she hurt herself, she wanted to attack the man who had put her in this hole. She would wait by the door and jump him the next time he opened it.

She sat feverishly on the floor and concentrated on the world outside the door. She constantly struggled to regain control of her thoughts, which drifted in the most absurd directions. After she had been sitting there for about an hour, her ears pricked: she could hear the familiar footsteps. They seemed a bit slower than usual, but she could also be mistaken.

Merle knelt by the small hatch.

She heard someone kneel outside. Merle held her breath. She was quite sure her kidnapper was a man. Her assumption proved right when the hatch was lifted and a hairy man’s arm was visible. As the accompanying hand shoved in a new tray, Merle lunged forward. The man shouted as she clutched the hand and tried to pull it forward. She could feel her nails digging into the strange flesh. Shortly thereafter she could hear violent swearing. The man tried to release himself with his other hand. She desperately defended herself and shouted as loud as she could through the opening. The man let go of her wrist and poked her in the eye. She screamed and covered her face with her hands.

A moment later, the flap came crashing down, and the bolt was pushed forward. There would be no food this evening.

At five forty-five, Hannes parked in a garage near the old casino. He had put his gym bag in the trunk because the boathouse was on the other side of town. Even though he wanted to get out of there before the official start of the event, he had stopped to buy a white button-down shirt so he would look somewhat presentable. He had also purchased a pack of much-needed underwear.

As he walked toward the old casino, he saw no signs of suspicious activity. In front of the stone staircase that led up to the columned entrance, a long red carpet had been laid out and was flanked on both sides by bushes in white planters. Two young men were demarcating the entrance with elegant white wooden fences, while the last Styrofoam boxes were being unloaded from a catering van. Bright flags with Lagussa’s blue logo fluttered in the wind.

Nobody took notice of Hannes as he ran up the steps and entered the imposing building. He scanned the area and noticed a brutish security guard in a black suit, who politely stepped in Hannes’s way.

“Excuse me, but the doors don’t open until seven. I unfortunately cannot let you in. Do you have a ticket?” He scrutinized Hannes, whose tattered jeans didn’t exactly go with the clean white shirt.

“Uh, yeah, I do, but my colleague has it,” Hannes said.

“Then you have to wait. As I said, the doors don’t open for another hour.”

“I’m not here for the gala. I would just like to have a word with Ms. Stahl.”

“Who?”

“Well, she organized the event. Ms. Stahl from Lagussa.”

“I apologize,” said the security guard. “I have strict instructions not to let anyone in before the event without a security pass.”

Hannes was about to pull out his police badge when Anna came around the corner. “Hannes, I had no idea you were coming. What are you doing here? The event doesn’t start until seven.”

“I wanted to talk to you briefly. I unfortunately cannot attend, but my boss has already promised to guard the buffet.”

Anna showed the guard her security pass. “It’s fine, I’ll take responsibility for him.”

The man stepped aside, and Hannes followed Anna down the hallway. She seemed frazzled and kept looking at her watch.

“Tonight we have a lot of prominent guests, politicians and people from show business, so we have strict security measures.”

“Do you have some time right now?” Hannes asked.

“Not really. I have to speak with the sound engineer. The sound check was awful. But that won’t take long. If you walk through the ballroom, you’ll see a large glass door on your right. It leads to the terrace and a small garden. We set up a bar there. Get yourself a drink. I’ll be with you in a few minutes, okay?”

“Of course! I won’t keep you for long, promise.”

“Cool, I have to run!”

Anna hurried away, and Hannes smiled as he gazed at her figure-hugging black cocktail dress.

Hannes entered the main hall where the waitstaff was busy making last-minute preparations. Several long rows of tables were covered in dazzling white linens, while the crystal glasses and silver cutlery produced a glittering sea of stars in the light of the chandeliers. The chairs were also covered in white cloth, and there were probably enough for several hundred people.

At the end of the hall was a large stage for the band. Several technicians were busy setting up two cameras and discussing the correct angles and settings. Hannes almost regretted not attending the event. He strolled through the rows of tables and stepped through a wide glass door onto the terrace, which was festively decorated with several high tops and a lavish bar.

Since the servers were still busy stocking the bar, Hannes decided against a drink and leaned against a table. The sun was low in the sky, plunging the little garden into soft light. He could hear gently rippling water. Hannes closed his eyes and enjoyed the warm sunshine. When he opened them again, Anna was in front of him.

“Quick nap?”

“It’s all so dreamlike. Everything looks great!”

“Thank you,” she said and smiled. “I’m quite happy. Mr. Ternheim has the highest standards, and I don’t think he’ll be disappointed.”

“Does the sound equipment work now?”

“I hope so. The engineer swore everything is under control. If not, I’ll strangle him.”

Hannes chuckled.

“How come you’re not staying for the gala? I’m sure you’d like it. We hired a great band. Once the speeches are over, it should be fun. The food is supposed to be excellent.”

“I’d really like to stay.” Hannes told her about practice for his upcoming race.

“Oh, well, that’s understandable,” she said but looked a little disappointed.

“I’ll watch it later on TV,” joked Hannes. “I saw some cameras being set up.”

“That’s right,” she said. “Since it’s a charity gala and celebrities are making donations, the media wants to cover it. A lot of reporters are coming too.”

“A successful PR stunt, then. Do some good and talk about it . . .”

Anna frowned. “Sure, you can see it that way. But it’s for a good cause, and there’s no reason why it shouldn’t be publicized. Anyway, what did you actually want to talk about?”

“I’ve been thinking about our conversation. In particular, I was wondering if Mr. Ternheim knew anything about the relationship between his sister and Ms. Wagner?”

“Shh, not so loud!” Frightened, she looked around and lowered her voice. “I don’t know. But if he did, he wouldn’t have been thrilled. Sometimes he makes crude homophobic remarks.”

“If he did know, could that have been a reason for their estrangement?”

“For sure! But she wouldn’t have told him about her relationship.”

“Does anything else stick out to you? Anything about the relationship between the siblings?”

“Why? You don’t suspect . . . ?” She was aghast.

“No, no, it’s just routine.”

Anna was now on guard. “I in no way wanted to cast suspicion on Mr. Ternheim. I think the rift between them was about her research into Lagussa’s past. He probably overreacted. You should know that Mr. Ternheim is somewhat paranoid. He’s always smelling a conspiracy and doesn’t trust anyone. I can give you an example, but it has to remain just between us. Mr. Ternheim received an anonymous tip that someone wants to crash this event tonight. And by ‘crash,’ I don’t mean show up uninvited. I mean there’s going to be an incident. Mr. Ternheim didn’t tell me anything specific. But he insisted that security be tightened and has been tremendously nervous all day. I mean, let’s be honest, who would use a charity gala to provoke a scandal? Sure, there are always wackos, but it’s very unlikely.”

Hannes had to grab the table to steady himself and struggled to keep a straight face. “Where did he get this information?”

“An anonymous call. The person warned of a scandal. The caller wouldn’t . . . Oh, here he comes.”

Mr. Ternheim walked over to the table, his back stiff, and looked sternly at Anna. “I’ve been looking for you all over! There’s some confusion with the guest list. Could you take care of it?”

“Of course, right away,” she said and shot Hannes an apologetic look. “Please, excuse me.”

“Uh . . . yes, of course, no problem. Thank you for . . . for the talk,” Hannes said.

After Anna hurried away, Mr. Ternheim said, “Are you looking to rub elbows with the rich and famous?”

“Not at all, my boss will be taking over for me. I’m just waiting here and then I’ll be on my way.”

“Maybe it’s good we have the police here tonight.” The director stared into the distance.

“Why’s that?”

“Sorry?” Ternheim said. “Oh, it’s never bad to have law enforcement around, right? After all, there’ll be an illustrious group here. What were you discussing with Ms. Stahl?”

“Nothing. As I said, I agreed to meet with my boss here and randomly bumped into her. We’ve been investigating various aspects of your sister’s case separately and have to exchange information.”

“Yes, my sister . . . Actually, it’s her event tonight. Maybe I should have canceled everything. It’s strange we’re
celebrating
without her.”

“Mr. Ternheim, your sister was pretty tense lately. So much so that it struck many of your employees as unusual. Was she threatened or did anything seem strange to you?”

Mr. Ternheim gazed over the little garden. “I have to put this show on first and then sleep on it. Even though it’s the weekend, I’ll be in my office tomorrow. Come in the morning with Mr. Janssen, and maybe I can tell you more. Oh, speak of the devil. I’ll leave you two alone so you can brief each other. The first guests will be arriving soon.”

He gave Hannes a limp handshake. Hannes would have expected a viselike grip, but maybe the past few days had left their mark on him.

Fritz quickly said hello to Ternheim, then walked over to Hannes. He was wearing a long-sleeved light-blue shirt and a black pinstripe suit that looked a bit dated. He had casually thrown the jacket over his shoulder.

“Well? Have a nice chat?” he asked.

“There are certainly more pleasant conversation partners, but he did say he’d maybe have new information for us tomorrow.”

“Well, well! Look at you!” Fritz eyed Hannes with interest. “You really seem to have a knack for difficult characters. With me, he’s as tight-lipped as they come.”

“I guess. He said he needs a night to think it over.”

“Then let’s hope his thoughts lead somewhere, and it’s not just a diversionary tactic. Did Ms. Stahl have anything more to add?”

“No. However, she did hint that Mr. Ternheim is not particularly tolerant of homosexuals and doesn’t believe he knew of his sister’s lesbian relationship. And he’s apparently afraid something will happen this evening. Someone gave him an anonymous tip. Security has been tightened.”

“You can say that again. And I had completely forgotten about your buddy’s protest. Did he tell you what he and his group are up to?”

“No, he wouldn’t divulge anything.”

“I hope you remember who’s buttering your bread.”

“He honestly didn’t tell me anything!”

“All right, all right! I believe you. So, what have you found out about Lagussa today?”

Lounge music began playing in the ballroom, and a few guests walked out onto the terrace. Hannes thought he recognized a famous fashion model, but he wasn’t sure.

“It seems they’re letting people in now. Maybe we should stand off to the side?”

“I don’t care,” Fritz said. “Let’s head into the garden, the guests will hit up the bar first, anyway. Besides, I can hardly be seen with you!” He glanced at Hannes’s outfit.

“Don’t worry, I’ll be leaving shortly. Why would I buy a suit for an hour?”

“A man should always have a suit in his closet,” said Fritz.

“All right, boss.”

Fritz groaned and sat down on a garden bench.

“How’s your back?” Hannes asked as he sat down beside him.

“The usual, not worth mentioning. So, what’s up with Lagussa?”

“Lagussa’s definitely really good at business. Last year, the company generated a profit of 324 million euros. It’s active worldwide, but its core market is Europe, which isn’t surprising. According to the OECD, about 20 percent of workers in industrialized countries suffer from mental illness, a majority of them from depression. Worldwide, over 120 million people are affected. So Lagussa is in a very lucrative market. And that’s just the total sales for psychotropic drugs. I found an old figure from 2008—back then, consumers spent a shocking 100 billion US dollars on such drugs.”

“Brave new world, huh? We shape the world according to our expectations only to realize at the end of the day that it’s not quite what we wanted. Then we down these pills in order to put up with all this shit, but keep doing the same thing. In the past decade, the number of prescribed antidepressants has doubled, and mental disorders are the most common reason for hospitalization and people going on disability.”