The Ways of Justice

CHAPTER 2

CHAPTER 2

For Mario Ziegler, it turned out to be another stressful day. In the morning kicking his heels while waiting to give evidence at a trial before the High Court. Then back to police headquarters to catch up on the pile of paperwork cluttering up his desk. To attend a phone which never stopped ringing. So what was new? Frustrated and ready to call it a day, he suddenly received a call from Sonia, Kruger's matronly secretary, saying the Chief wanted to see him before he left. He strolled over. The bosses office was empty, but his raincoat and felt hat hung on a peg.

He took a visitor's chair and began browsing through the local newspaper, his feet on Kruger's desk. He quickly – and wisely – took them down when he heard him returning.

Kruger gave him a pointed smile and, with a heavy sigh, dropped into his cushioned chair behind his desk. "Just got out of a meeting with the Director," he groaned, as he loosened his top shirt button, leaving his tie hanging limply. "Wants more action. Our clear-up rate is falling."

"We're doing our best out there, Chief. You know that. s**t alive."

"Your best is not good enough, Inspector."

"How can we nail those bastards? The bigger turds are always one step ahead – or they've got bloody good lawyers – or know what political strings to pull. We're always at a disadvantage. Outgunned at every turn. Doesn't the Big Guy realise this?"

"It's always been that way. So that's no reason."

Ziegler shook his head. "For me it is ... Christ, I often wonder why I do this."

"What else would you do?"

He pointed a finger at the Chief. "Don't think I don't have other options."

With a humourless laugh, Kruger said, "Come on, you wouldn't want to do anything else."

"Maybe, but ..." Ziegler began, still simmering, then let the matter rest. He knew the Chief was right. Deep down he loved his work, even though a word of thanks now and then wouldn't hurt.

Kruger fished a file from of the pile of papers on his desk. The inspector recognised it as a police report. One he had written. "What I wanted to see you about is this. Please explain."

"Er, yeah, well ... Look, Chief, have you been following the goings on at Maddens – since the old man died?"

"The management reshuffle, you mean?"

"It's more than that. It's become a bloody slaughterhouse. The old man is hardly dead and the new owners have reduced the supervisory board from nine to only three and fired about two-thirds of the executives. And almost a thousand staff people are being laid off. Added to this– "

"What has this all got to do with you … or us for that matter?"

"Well, you always taught us to use our initiative, right?"

"Are you saying you've been nosing around?"

"No, Chief. I was just curious. I– "

"For heaven's sake, man, get to the point. If there is one."

"Well, in my report ..."

"There is no such thing. As there is no official investigation, there can be no report."

"But ..."

Kruger waved two pages in the air. "This is a personal memo addressed from you to me – clear?"

Ziegler nodded.

"Well, that's settled. Now, what are you telling me here?" He exhaled an angry snort. "And leave the Madden's out of this."

"This concerns them."

"My God, Inspector ... They own the damned company. They can do with it what they bloody well like."

"Chief, do you want to know what I've found out – or not?"

An impatient growl. "I'll give you two minutes."

"Yeah, well, there's something really fishy going on over there."

"Like what?"

"Well, look at the facts. The old man died only two weeks ago, right?"

"Go on."

"Well now, a good friend of mine works for an international consulting outfit in the city centre – you know, Burlington Consult. Well, he says a management and structural reorganisation plan of this size needs at least a month to draft and many more to carry out. He said you can't do it in, well, a few short weeks."

"So?"

"You don't see what I'm getting at?"

All of a sudden a flash of understanding shot across Frank Kruger's tired eyes. He sat up straight in his chair. "My God, you're saying this plan must have originated long before Madden Senior passed away?"

"Exactly."

"Then again, perhaps he drew up this reorganisation before he died?"

Ziegler grinned wryly. "Come on, Chief. Why would he want to destroy what everybody considered his life's work?"

A thoughtful silence.

"No way,'' the inspector continued. “Think, Chief! The men who are gone were those he'd hand-picked for their jobs."

"Do you have proof?"

"Well, er ..."

"Hm, this is thin ice you're skating on."

"But it's strange, isn't it? And there's something else I've discovered. Dolff Madden's own personal driver and bodyguard vanished at around the same time as his boss got struck by that famous golf ball."

"No missing person report yet?"

"Nope."

Kruger sat back in his chair, eyeing the inspector with an unwavering stare.

"So now you see why I made the repor- er ... sent you my memo. I sense a lot of open questions out there."

"That's all they are, Inspector. This is not a case of murder.”

“Don't you think his chauffeur disappearing like that is suspicious? He hasn't been seen since.”

Kruger leant backwards in his chair. "There are too many ifs in your case, Inspector, but I think you have a point. I suggest you start by searching for the missing chauffeur."

“Right.”

"And that is all it is. Nothing more. No nonsense about the connection to his former boss, or the new owners. Dolff Madden was a close friend of the Chief Commissioner and a big contributor to party and police funds. I get the impression his political friends and the Madden family would prefer to let sleeping dog's lie."

"To avoid any unpleasant secrets a police investigation might turn up, you think?"

"I didn't say that."

"But you're implying it," Ziegler grinned.

"I am not. So get me the facts. Hard facts. If you're right, Inspector, I'll follow up. It won't make me too popular upstairs , though – throwing a cat like this among their political pigeons."

"You've done it before, Chief."

"Perhaps, but not in a sensitive situation like this one."