Babylon Berlin (20 page)

‘Hello, Gereon!’ Jänicke was relieved to see him.

Rath toasted his health. ‘Dear old Bruno still seems to be very attached to his army days.’

‘Yes, a whole lot of soldiers. Or at least former soldiers,’ Jänicke said. ‘Must be to do with his age.’

‘Just old comrades. I’m afraid we don’t quite fit.’

‘
You
were a soldier, Gereon.’ It sounded as if Jänicke regretted not having been part of the war.

‘I did the basic training, and then it was over. I was lucky.’

Emmi Wolter came round with a tray. Rath reached for a devilled egg. ‘Where were you the whole time?’ he asked. ‘We were worried about you. Almost got Missing Persons involved. You didn’t get lost, did you?’

Jänicke seemed embarrassed. ‘Isn’t so easy to find the toilet in this house. It was engaged below, so I came upstairs.’

Emmi Wolter laughed and the eggs on the tray wobbled. ‘Just imagine, I found Herr Jänicke up here groping helplessly in the dark, searching for a light! And to think the bathroom was just behind the next door!’

Jänicke blushed red. ‘Well, it is rather a big flat.’

‘Yes, we even have two bathrooms,’ Emmi Wolter said, not without pride.

‘Then the chances of finding one should be even greater,’ Rath said.

The lady of the house giggled. ‘Bruno said you had a sense of humour. I hope you’re having a good time.’ She lowered her voice. ‘Sometimes Bruno’s friends talk a little too much about the war.’

‘That’s OK,’ Rath said. ‘We’re happy here.’

‘If you want to speak to a colleague of yours, Bruno always invites Rudi Scheer along too. The only policeman who comes here regularly, for years at that. Bruno’s other colleagues come and go, but he’s always had a good relationship with Rudi.’

Scheer? There was no-one by that name in E Division.

‘He’s responsible for the armoury,’ she continued. ‘The pair of them used to work together. Should I introduce you?’

The armoury. Parabellum Wolter. Of course. He still hadn’t asked Bruno how he, the marksman, had ended up in Vice.

‘That’s very kind of you, but I’m a little short on time. I just wanted to look in quickly. We’re back on duty tomorrow, and need to be well rested.’ Jänicke nodded in agreement. ‘We have a strict boss!’

She laughed. ‘What a shame, but I understand. Work is work. That’s what Bruno always says when he makes himself scarce. You must come and see us again, both you and your colleague.’

‘I promise,’ Rath said.

Wolter didn’t seem disappointed when his two colleagues took their leave a few minutes later. The slight redness in his cheeks betrayed the alcohol level in his blood. He clapped them jovially on the shoulders as his wife led them out.

‘Phew,’ Rath said, as he and Jänicke made their way towards Friedenau station. ‘Bruno’s old friends! You’d never believe there were so many soldiers. Especially when the
Reichswehr
is only allowed one hundred thousand men.’

‘It’s more than that. Police are soldiers too.’

Rath stopped short. ‘Sorry?’

‘It was suggested to me this evening that the police and the
Reichswehr
should work more closely together. Unofficially, of course.’

‘Major General Seegers?’

Jänicke nodded.

‘He was probably on a recruitment drive. He put the moves on me too.’

‘Do you think Bruno’s working for the
Reichswehr
in an unofficial capacity?’

Rath shrugged. ‘I can’t imagine that. He just has too many friends in the army, indulging their reminiscences of the old days. Seegers was drunk, that’s all. They told me something about a Russian hoard of gold that’s gone missing in Berlin and that the commies are supposedly trying to pinch. Worth eighty million, he said. What a load of rubbish. You can’t smuggle that much gold from Russia to Berlin unnoticed.’

Jänicke raised his eyebrows but said nothing as the men proceeded towards the red-brick building of the little station.

14

He had hardly slept and yet he was in the best of spirits when he entered the office on Thursday morning. With a tune on his lips that he barely recognised himself, he flung his hat in the direction of the hat stand, and landed it. Jänicke whistled appreciatively through his teeth.

‘Where did you learn to do that?’

‘You either can or you can’t.’ Rath took off his coat. ‘Bruno not here yet?’

Jänicke gave a shake of the head. ‘I think the party yesterday was too much for him.’

Schmittchen, their secretary, had already brewed coffee. From the outer office they could hear the incessant clattering of her typewriter. Ratatata – quick as a machine gun. Any number of official requests and judicial rulings were still necessary before the raids on Saturday. She had to work through the public holiday too.

‘Before I forget, someone just rang. He only wanted to speak to you or Bruno though,’ Jänicke said.

‘And?’

‘I tried to take down his number, but he said it was nothing to do with me. He said he’d ring later.’

Right on cue, the telephone on Rath’s desk sounded.

‘That’ll be him,’ Jänicke said.

Rath picked up. It was Wolter. He mumbled something about coming in later and gave a few terse instructions. Rath had only just hung up when the phone rang again.

Rath recognised the voice straightaway. Franz Krajewski.

‘Bit early for you to be up and about, isn’t it?’ he asked the porn Kaiser. ‘On Father’s Day too.’

‘I can’t talk for long, but I need to speak to you. If you could do me a favour, then I have some information that might interest you.’

‘I’ve already done you a favour, haven’t I?’ Rath tried to sound as innocent as possible, as if he were speaking to a girlfriend. Jänicke couldn’t find out who he had on the other end of the line.

‘I could really use another.’

‘Why should I?’

‘Just listen to what I have to say.’ Krajewski’s voice grew softer. ‘You’re still looking for these films, right? If you want to attend a screening…’

Rath pricked up his ears. ‘I still haven’t had breakfast,’ he said. ‘Perhaps we could get a bite to eat.’

‘Just don’t come to Neukölln!’ His voice sounded alarmed, even though it came very softly through the receiver.

‘I wasn’t intending to pay you a visit. We’re going out.’

‘But not to Alex. Too many people know me there.’ Krajewski was still whispering. It was hard to understand him. ‘The
Grinzing
in
Haus Vaterland
. It’s only tourists who go there.’

Rath could be there in quarter of an hour on the underground.

‘Half eight?’

‘Half eight, and you’re paying!’

‘I’ll decide that after the meal.’

He hung up and reached for his hat and coat.

Jänicke looked up in surprise. ‘That was a fleeting appearance.’

‘Already forgotten today’s a holiday? If Uncle comes, tell him I’m out and about. Just need to check something.’ He gave a conspiratorial wink, exactly the kind he couldn’t bear seeing from Weinert. Let the rookie think he was meeting a woman. ‘Be back in an hour or two.’

Haus Vaterland
was an enormous pleasure dome near Potsdamer Platz. Everything under one roof: a large cinema, several pubs and restaurants, everything from a Turkish café to a Wild West themed bar. Berliners tended to avoid
Vaterland
but there was still an unbelievable whoopla there every night. Rath remembered how he had spent his first evening in Berlin at
Rheinterrasse
in
Vaterland
– they didn’t even have Kölsch, just wine that was far too sweet and vinous older women on the hunt for single men. A sobering evening: he hadn’t been back to
Haus Vaterland
since.

There wasn’t a lot going on here in the mornings, but at least at this hour Rath wasn’t obliged to fork out to enter the complex. In the evenings that was standard here. The tourists were always flabbergasted when they had to pay again at the cinema box office. The
Grinzing
was trying to look like a Viennese Heuriger, and less like a coffee house. Artificial greenery crept up the walls, while Chinese lanterns hung from the ceiling. When Rath entered, Franz Krajewski was already sitting at a white covered table, before him a cup of coffee and a glass of white wine. The man was drawing nervously on his cigarette. Rath sat down and placed his hat on the table, not intending to stay long.

‘Starting at breakfast time?’ he asked.

Krajewski gave a forced smile. ‘Always a joke at the ready, your local bobby!’ He fell silent for a moment before continuing. ‘I need a favour,’ he said. Rath’s silence made Krajewski nervous. He continued talking. ‘People are saying there’s something up. You’re planning something big, am I right?’

It was astonishing how fast the bush telegraph worked in this city. Word of the planned raid must have trickled through from a leak at the Castle.

‘Who’s the informant here? That’s not how this works, you should know that by now. You tell me something and then maybe I’ll be in such a good mood that I pay for your breakfast.’

‘I know how it works, and I am going to tell you something. I just don’t fancy getting picked up by one of your colleagues. I ain’t much use to you in the can.’

Rath said nothing. His hands played with the small calibre projectile he had fetched from his pocket.

Krajewski raised his hands in appeasement. ‘OK, you’re the boss. But you should have a think about what I’ve said.’ He fell silent as a waiter approached their table to take Rath’s order. He didn’t continue until they were alone again. ‘If you want to see an interesting cinema performance:
Sonnabend
, at twelve.’ He leaned in and spoke even more softly. ‘
Pille
, a secret cellar bar in Motzstrasse, just by Nollendorfplatz. There’s a back room there, that’s where the fun’ll be.’

Rath put the bullet back in his pocket. ‘Sounds good. If you’re talking shit, there’ll be trouble. If I don’t find anything I’ll assume you’ve stitched us up, do you understand?’

Krajewski nodded. The waiter came and placed a cup of coffee and a glass of water on the table. Rath pushed the photos that he always carried across the table.

‘Do me another favour?’ he said. ‘Do you recognise either of these men?’

Krajewski grabbed the picture of the dead man. ‘He was in the paper, right?’

Rath nodded.

‘No idea, only place I’ve seen him.’

‘And him?’ Rath gestured towards the photo of Kardakov.

‘Hmm…’ Krajewski furrowed his brow. ‘Looks familiar. What’s he supposed to have done?’

‘He deals coke.’

Krajewski shook his head. ‘Then I don’t know him. Must’ve been thinking of someone else.’ He passed the photos back to Rath and downed his glass. ‘Who’s paying, then? I need to know if I can order something else.’

‘You can choose. Either I do you a favour or I pay your bill.’

Krajewski considered for a moment only. ‘Favour it is then.’

‘Good.’ Rath stood up and put on his hat. ‘Then a little tip. Stay home at the weekend.’

He’d been hit by something. Without knowing how it had happened, he found himself back on the ground; every bone in his body was aching. He felt as if he had been run over by an express train, only they didn’t operate on the first floor of the police station. Clearly it was a person.

‘Can’t you look where you’re going?’

He recognised the voice. It was worse than an express train. Rath looked up. Correct! DCI Böhm.

The homicide detective stood firm as a German oak on the grey stone floor; Rath on the other hand was lying supine. Having almost fallen back down the stairs he was holding his aching shoulder. Admittedly, he had hurried up the stairs rather quickly, a little giddily even. Krajewski’s tip-off had given wing to his steps. It had come at just the right time and dovetailed perfectly with their plans for Saturday. He sensed today was going to be a good day, and now this. He had just made it to the half landing when the door that led from the stairwell to the corridor had hit him like a ton of bricks, landing him face-up on the floor.

‘Use your eyes, man! You almost knocked me over!’

Rath didn’t say anything. His hat had rolled off his head and the photos had fallen out of his pocket. He gathered everything back up.

‘Aren’t you going to say anything to me?’ Böhm asked. He narrowed his eyes.

Rath struggled to his feet and placed his hat back on his head. ‘Me? If you’ll pardon my saying so DCI Böhm, it’s
you
who should be apologising,’ he said, going on the counter-attack.

Böhm hadn’t been listening. ‘If you know something about that dead man you’ve just returned to your pocket, then you should tell me,’ he said simply.

Rath smoothed down his suit and fell silent.

‘You could start by telling me who that was staring up at me?’

The son of a bitch had seen Kardakov too. Did he also know that Charlotte had met him at the Landwehr canal? Rath had to take care that Böhm didn’t become too suspicious, which wasn’t so easy. Being suspicious was part and parcel of the job, and Böhm was suspicion personified.

‘An E Division investigation,’ he said. ‘A cocaine dealer, with a possible connection to a porn ring.’ That was the link he’d come up with in case he needed to explain why he was investigating a case that was outside his remit. The solution to the Landwehr canal murder as a by-product of the pornography investigation, so to speak. It was the coke which allowed the link to be constructed. ‘We’ve got things to do too,’ he continued. ‘You mustn’t think we’re all scrambling to help Homicide.’ He took the picture of Boris from his pocket, staying on the offensive. ‘I know colleagues who have thrown this photo away. You should be happy I’m supporting A Division.’

Böhm looked even grumpier.

‘Fine,’ he said at length. ‘But my joy will be somewhat confined if you’re only carrying this photo around, and I don’t hear from you. Let me make one thing clear, if you have something to say to me, then say it. I don’t like it when people move in on my territory.’

Rath took an Overstolz from the packet, unmoved. Just stay cool. The obnoxious fool couldn’t know anything. Böhm took every opportunity to rant at subordinates.