Stasi Child by David Young Read Free Book Online Page A

regular pattern, across her back. Feuerstein gestured to the mortuary assistant. The woman and pathologist combined to turn the girl’s body over.
    ‘Yes, there are bullet wounds,’ Feuerstein said. ‘But, Dr Wollenburg, perhaps you can explain to our colleagues why we are certain these were not the cause of death, even before we complete our investigation.’
    The blond doctor stared directly at Müller as he began his answer. She dropped her gaze back to the girl’s body, trying to concentrate on what he was saying, rather than his angular good looks.
    ‘Yes, there are lesions consistent with bullet wounds,’ said Wollenburg. ‘But even when the body was first brought to me, it was obvious that these were inflicted after death. Several hours after, in fact. There’s a lack of haemorrhaging from the wounds. Yes, they were from an automatic, or semi-automatic, weapon. The pattern implies that.’ He moved over to her clothes. ‘There is a significant amount of blood on her outer clothing, but much, much less on the T-shirt she was wearing under her top. In other words, the blood was applied from the outside.’
    ‘What do you mean, applied ?’ asked Müller.
    ‘Well, to put it another way: faked . Very clumsily faked, so I would guess it was something that was done in a hurry. It is a bloodstain. But we’ve tested it – it’s not human. The pattern is inconsistent with a bullet wound, and inconsistent with having seeped, flowed or pumped from within her body. It was thrown on her top later. The blood is from an animal – we believe it’s feline.’
    Seiberling, who’d been standing quietly in the background, now moved forward and addressed Jäger, who’d been listening to the explanations by the pathologist and doctor without comment. ‘So you see, Oberstleutnant Jäger, it doesn’t look like she was shot from the West while trying to get into the East at all. That story in Neues Deutschland was obviously wrong. I don’t think there is any requirement for you four to be here for the remainder of the autopsy.’
    Jäger himself said nothing for a moment; Müller found the silence unnerving. When he did finally reply, it was in the same quiet, measured voice he’d used throughout his exchanges with the attorney. ‘I don’t think we should jump to any conclusions, Comrade Seiberling.’ He turned to Müller and held her gaze. ‘I’m sure that Oberleutnant Müller will examine all the evidence in her usual thorough fashion, and will arrive at the correct conclusion.’ There was no real menace in his tone, yet Müller understood it as a veiled threat. Then Jäger turned back towards Seiberling. ‘And you’re right, of course. We can leave now confident that you will provide us with a full and detailed report. But please don’t suggest to us what our conclusions will be. That’s not really your job, is it?’
    He then reached across the girl’s body on the mortuary table and tapped Professor Feuerstein’s miniature dictation apparatus. ‘You’ll make sure you send me a copy of the recording of your autopsy notes, won’t you, Feuerstein? And our other conversations.’ Feuerstein clicked the machine off, and Müller watched Seiberling’s face fall as he realised his verbal sparring with Jäger was all recorded on it.
    The pathologist smiled. ‘Of course, Comrade Oberstleutnant . Of course.’

6
    Day Five.
    East Berlin.
    An S-bahn train rattled overhead. In the temporary offices of the Mitte Murder Commission – shoehorned into a railway arch below Marx-Engels-Platz station – Müller watched the contents of her overflowing in-tray battle gravity as it shook with the vibrations. She lifted a folder off the top of the pile, opened it and began turning the pages.
    On each page there was the picture of a girl, first name, family name, address, date of birth, height, hair colour, eyes, shape of nose, comments about teeth and then details about other distinguishing marks. She’d been through the