The Hat Man
At some point during the night, Yasira must have moved to her bed.
At least that’s where she wakes up. Even before she throws off the covers, she decides to drive to work today.
Yesterday’s incident has soured her on taking the train.
She waits until Zara has left the house, grabs the keys to the Golf and drives to the Treptowers.
Once again, it’s Jenny who discovers the video first. She comes into Michael and Yasira’s office. “New video,” she says, “I sent you the link via email.”
Yasira waits until Michael has circled the desk, then she presses play.
A masked member of Active Homeland-Protection is pacing back and forth in front of his victim. The man’s affiliation with the Active Homeland-Protection is discernable by the logo on his pseudo-uniform. Unlike the first killer, he doesn’t have an MP, just a pistol.
“In the name of the Active Homeland-Protection and the German people,” the man says choppily, “I sentence this illegal immigrant, rapist, and murderer of Lena Palmer to death. I will carry out the sentence immediately. Join the Active Homeland-Protection!”
Despite the digital distortion, you can clearly hear a Hessian singsong in the voice. It would be hilarious if the video didn’t end so damn deadly again.
“If this isn’t our Red Fox,” says Michael, expressing what everyone is thinking.
“Report it, flag it, ban it,” says Yasira. “At least in the legal part of the web, we have to stop it spreading.”
Jenny nods. “I’ll get right on it.”
The internet, as you can tell from the first comments, is already heating up again.
Yasira has Red Fox put on a nationwide search. Then she goes to Karsten’s office and discusses the video with him.
“What kind of weapon is that?”
“If I’m not mistaken, it’s a Flobert Grand Power four millimeter,” says Karsten. “Probably drilled out. Or boiled.”
“Boiled?”
“These small-caliber guns are freely tradable in Slovakia. They are smuggled to us and then converted. One method is to simmer the gun in water for half an hour until the glued-in barrel comes loose and then replace it with a nine millimeter barrel.”
“Black market, then,” says Yasira.
“I’d bet on it.”
Yasira is barely back in her own office when Katja Grebe reports that the software has spit out a hit.
Unlike Bear, who seems to have no prior convictions, Red Fox is a neo-Nazi with a criminal record, which means he is on file and his picture and data are in the system.
In other words, he is easy to find. The man’s name is Martin Riedel.
Yasira compares the photo taken during one of his arrests with the video in which Red Fox declares his allegiance to Active Homeland-Protection. It’s crystal clear. Currently, Riedel lives in Dürrhahnbach in northeastern Saxony.
What a name for a place, Yasira thinks as she enters it into the satnav.
Michael is speeding like a madman again.
Yasira is determined to get there before the GSG 9 special forces.
She knows from experience that the gain in knowledge is significantly higher if one is present at the operation rather than just reading an always somewhat sugarcoated report later.
The federal antiterrorism unit also has to travel from Berlin.
In the end, they arrive almost simultaneously.
While Michael and Yasira are still putting on their bulletproof vests, the heavily armed commando is already taking up position.
“We’re ready,” announces the GSG 9 officer in charge. “Please step back now.”
Unfortunately—or fortunately, depending on who you ask—it is extremely unusual for investigators to take part in such a raid.
“Be careful, the man is very likely armed and dangerous,” says Yasira.
The officer in charge nods. “They always are when we’re called.”
On his command, the police storm Riedel’s house from the front and back simultaneously. Yasira waits a moment, then follows those who have broken down the front door with her gun drawn.
“What are you doing?” hisses Michael behind her.
“I want to see with my own eyes how he reacts and what he’s doing right now. A report isn’t enough for me.”
Michael groans, draws his weapon and follows Yasira.
They find Red Fox in his living room, sitting at a terribly messy desk in front of a computer. He seems surprised to see the barrels of several submachine guns pointed at him.
The head of operations is visibly annoyed that Yasira and Michael turned up, but says nothing.
“Martin Riedel, you’re under arrest,” Yasira announces. “You are strongly suspected of having committed murder.”
It takes Riedel a moment to regain his composure, then he says in his familiar singsong: “There must be some mistake! How dare you break into the house of a law-abiding citizen like that! This is even worse than communism.”
“I must ask you to follow us to the police station without resistance . . .”
“Like hell I will!” cries Riedel. “I’ve done nothing wrong except express my opinion. Isn’t that allowed anymore in this country . . .”
The head of operations receives a radio message, then approaches Yasira and interrupts Riedel’s rant. “Chief Inspector, my team found a body in the garage.”
Unbelievable, Yasira thinks. How stupid can you be? How did this guy get through his life so far? And then this self-righteousness. He must have known that they would find the body in the garage. Did he seriously think he could distract them with his feigned indignation? What was his goal?
“Take him away,” says Yasira.
The officer in charge signals two of his men and they advance.
Suddenly, Riedel reaches under the magazines on his desk, pulls out a gun, and points it at Yasira.
The next moment, the butt of a rifle hits him hard on the head, and he slips off the chair.
The second policeman steps on Riedel’s hand with his heavy boot.
There is a crack. He kicks the pistol aside.
The officer in charge picks it up carefully, so as not to smudge any fingerprints.
As if that’s necessary, Yasira thinks. That asshole had the gun pointed at her in front of everyone.
It’s the converted Flobert from the video.
Riedel is handcuffed while screaming in pain. Apparently the kick broke his hand. Cursing out loud as he is dragged out of the house. Only then does Yasira realize that this man was ready to shoot her. A police officer! Without the slightest chance of getting away. What is going on in this country?
“Everything all right?” asks Michael.
Yasira nods. She breathes in and out deeply. “On my end, at least.”
She walks around the desk. Riedel had 8kun open in his browser. He must have been reading through the comments under a copy of his execution video. It’s all so sad.
Michael and Yasira leave the house through the shattered door and make their way to the garage.
Meanwhile, a small crowd of curious Dürrhahnbach residents has gathered outside to watch their neighbor being handcuffed and locked into the cage of a prison van.
Of course, the first ones are already taking photos and filming.
Yasira points at the people. She doesn’t have to say anything. The head of operations, who has followed them out of the house, just nods. He walks toward the onlookers. You can tell from the way he walks that they are in for a cold shower of police authority.