Chapter10

Hannibal's hands flowed across the keyboard as he improvised on a theme by Scriabin. True to the composer, Hannibal used a lot of crescendo and climaxes, following his own preferences he kept a counterpoint melody going alongside the variations. To his own merriment, the music practically wrote itself in his mind and he focused on the dynamics instead.

The continuing waves of music could be seen as the ups and downs in life, but Hannibal didn't see life that way. Life wasn't a continuum. More than most people, he knew life could change in an instant. And life itself could be over within the blink of an eye. But that didn't mean there was no need to plan ahead. In fact, he had created contingency plans for the most likely things that could happen. But likelihood and statistics in general were in the end nothing more than numbers. There was no certainty in them. Events with high probability sometimes never happened. An event with the slightest probability of ever happening will, with enough attempts, eventually happen. Murphy's law.

Hannibal decided it was time for some rinforzando. His hands translated his thoughts into movement. The short bursts of emphasized phrases rang through the spacious room, and beyond. In the room next door, where Hannibal had installed his moderately sized but otherwise exquisite mahogany desk, the music lived on.

On Hannibal's desk were today's papers. There were a number of international papers he preferred to keep up with. And there were two local papers. All of them of vital importance for concocting contingency plans. Bild was the only paper still lying open on the desk, the rest of them had been read and neatly folded. On the right page visible, the local pages, was the article that had caught Hannibal's interest. Häutung in Spandau! screamed the title. A pity the article didn't include a decent picture of the percept, that would have been nice. Instead, it featured a slightly out-of-focus photo from farther away.

But it wasn't the fact his murder was mentioned in a paper that had captivated Hannibal's attention. He wasn't vain and he certainly needed no coverage from Bild to get satisfaction. He had memorized more from the event than any paper or picture could ever conceive - nothing could capture such deeds better than the human mind. It was the name he'd encountered.

Time for the final variation. Al niente. And so, like the life that had slowly left the man on Lazarus Street, the music slowly died down. Hannibal remained seated while he relived the day he killed the man.

.

While most people can find several reasons to visit Leipzig, whether the Monument to the Battle of the Nations, the Gewandhaus, Auerbach's Cellar, the Leipzig Trade Fair or the fact the city could easily be included in a list of ten cities to visit, there were only two reasons for Hannibal to visit Leipzig: it was the city where Gottfried Wilhelm Leibniz was born and where he hoped to find out more about this illustrious polymath, the other reason was Bach, who worked as cantor at the St. Thomas Church. Hannibal had decided to just visit the city instead of calling and making appointments beforehand. Time was on his side, he could always return.

The drive from his residency in Potsdam to Leipzig, over the A9, had been a pleasure. Hannibal loved driving the limitless German highways though he didn't push his powerful but not too conspicuous Ruf Turbo R past the recommended 130 KMPH. An accident and its collateral media attention would not serve him well. Luckily, the sensation of the sound and the power were sufficient for his senses.

After parking his car at the University, Hannibal entered the Augustplatz building leisurely and asked the woman behind the reception desk if and where he could learn more on Leibniz. Hannibal gauged her capable of knowing who Leibniz was and why he would be asking about him here. And to his private glee, she did know Leibniz. She told him she'd call someone who'd be able to assist him further and asked him to take a seat while waiting. Hannibal gracefully nodded and sat down.

Professor Keks was reserved at first. After exchanging a few words with Hannibal and a few pushes on the right buttons by Hannibal, Keks was delighted to have such an interested and well educated man visiting him. He even rescheduled an appointment to facilitate answering all his questions and took him to the university library after their colloquy, where he showed him a number of publications that would undisputedly answer most of his remaining inquiries.

Hannibal enjoyed the game he was playing with the poor professor. He knew he could easily talk the man into offering him the books. While that would be amusing, missing books from this library would be an unnecessary risk. He had noticed the cameras. He settled for dismissing the man and browsing them here and now. After all, he was more interested in their contents than the books themselves.

The librarian, who walked around from time to time to check if everything was in order, was a stern but honest woman. Hannibal had a low-voiced, friendly conversation with her the first time she came by. By the third time she walked her round, she brought the charming visitor a cup of coffee. It was a rare occasion such a fine gentleman visited the library. Unfortunately, he gently declined her offer to drink his coffee with her at her post.

After he'd read and memorized everything of importance to him, Hannibal bid the librarian goodbye and left the university in high spirits.

The walk to St. Thomas Church was only a brief one - these Old World city centers were rarely large and Leipzig was no exception; its center was roughly 500 meters from one side to the other. Hannibal headed north first and turned left into Grimmaische Straße. As he walked he smelled the various restaurants around and thought it might be a good idea to have a bite.

The restaurant he chose was large but unexpectedly cozy. Niches allowed smaller companies seclusion. But the waiter recognized the gentleman in Hannibal and led him to a gothic vaulted separate room with even better tables and atmosphere. Hannibal ordered a filet of venison without the side dishes as he didn't share the German preference for a full warm meal at this hour of day.

Hannibal's eyes scanned the room while waiting for his filet. The numerous paintings and letters on the wall interested him and he rose to have a better look. He noticed they bore witness to all famous visitors who visited the establishment. Some paintings and letters were truly old, he saw some dating back to the 18th century. Such moments rekindled his love for the Old World, and Europe specifically.

The waiter noticed Hannibal's interest in the works of art and the room. Though he had learned to discern between those who appreciated some unsolicited information and those who didn't in his years as a waiter here, he wasn't sure about this man. He decided not to take his chances. Nothing could ruin a day more than a disturbed customer.

Hannibal returned to his table when he smelled his venison coming. That was another thing he liked about this country - its preference for and abundance of game for food. As they served him, Hannibal was pleased to see the venison was prepared just right and of excellent quality. This day was golden and favored so far.

After the smooth tasting meal Hannibal enjoyed a robust coffee before asking for the check. He added a proper Trinkgeld to the bill and left.

Feeling better with his gastronomical needs met, Hannibal continued the short walk to St. Thomas Church. Wandering past the old market square, the church came into sight and Hannibal continued down the Thomasgasse.

With the church in sight before him, Hannibal mused on Bach, who had been the choir director here from 1723 till his death in 1750. The 250th anniversary of his death had been recently commemorated on 28 July. Hannibal had not been present. He had no wish to commemorate the man's death, he wanted to become more acquainted with the man in life.

He was sure the man must have had simultaneous thoughts, like him. He could hear it most clearly in Bach's beloved counterpoint.

Hannibal walked a full lap around the church and took a good look at the impressive building from all sides before he walked in. He had seen the Woehl company car outside therefore he wasn't surprised seeing a number of men milling around the brand new white organ that arose high and proud on the north choir loft. Hannibal was intrigued by the instrument but he strolled over to Bach's site of internment in the nave. It turned out a disappointment. He had hoped to find a highly decorated stone of fine craftsmanship alike the man's oeuvre, but found a boring metal plaque with just the name of the composer instead. At that moment the organ started playing and Hannibal heard the first notes of Bach's St. Matthew Passion. He walked over to where he could see and hear the instrument best and sat down to listen.

He enjoyed the impromptu concert by the men from Woehl. They played a number of random pieces; probably to further test the new organ. When they were done Hannibal went over to them and asked them if he might try the beautiful instrument himself. They assented after a quick glance at the stranger. He looked trustworthy and serious.

Hannibal seated himself behind the four manuals and concentrated. Playing an organ was both alike and unlike playing a piano. He'd always been intrigued by the use of all limbs to play it and the multitude of registers and combination thereof in playing. He checked the registers and played the final choral from Bach's Cantata BWV 95, and a few variations while he was at it.

When Hannibal was done playing, he thanked the men for their hospitality. He left the church and went to the Bach Museum across the street. He didn't expect to find much here he didn't already know, but perhaps he could find a new book in the museum shop.

Hannibal drove back to Potsdam. It had been an outstanding day so far and he was enjoying the ride back as much as the rest of the day. As he neared Potsdam he noticed the Ruf was getting low on fuel. He decided to exit at Horstweg to buy some gas.

Just as he approached the gas station, he saw a car speed off. In the distance he could hear a police siren. A look at the gas station told him enough. He followed the car.

.

Hannibal rose from behind his piano and walked over to the next room, and to his desk. There, halfway the second paragraph, there it was.

An anonymous source within the BKA told us FBI's Clarice Starling, the famous homicide expert who has been lecturing at Berlin University recently, is lending the BKA a hand in the investigation of this bizarre case.

Seeing Clarice's name in the article set off a warning mechanism in his mind. Hannibal doubted the BKA had noticed the similarity of his tableau with Titian's painting. He wondered if Clarice would see it. He guessed she would. No, he knew she would...