Babylon Berlin (24 page)

Benno tried to appear contrite, as far as that was possible for a man of his stature. Rath didn’t think he was doing a particularly good job.

‘Well, well,’ Sebald’s mood improved quickly and the smile returned to his face. ‘That a film producer who is not averse to forbidden pleasures and a cocaine-addict actress should come to us with a cop, of all things, is not something we would expect. If the cop himself is a user, then perhaps it’s no bad thing. He becomes a guest like anyone else.’ He pocketed the wallet and the Mauser. ‘Might I assume your visit is of a private nature?’

‘Purely private.’

The two men led him back to Posener Strasse. He was familiar with the remainder of the journey too. They were going back to the Ostbahnhof. Only not, this time, to
Plaza
, whose neon sign was still bathing Küstriner Platz in a garish light, but to the back end of the former station, where it was as dark as the far side of the moon. Benno knocked on an iron door.

‘It’s us, Liang!’

A slim man opened, his suit cut as elegantly as Benno’s, but fitting considerably better. His lustrous black hair was tied back in a long ponytail. Impenetrable, narrow eyes examined them. Rath had heard that China was the land of smiles, but this Chinese man wasn’t smiling. Sebald handed him Rath’s badge and the Mauser. He accepted both and let them in, leading them through a large, dark warehouse. Beyond it he opened a door, which led to a room that appeared to be completely out of place, as if it had been transplanted from an English country house. It was almost as big as the warehouse, but fully furnished, a mixture of drawing room, library and study. An open fire flickered on the opposite wall. Behind a desk, which was even bigger than Sebald’s, sat an elegant but stockily built man in a black suit. He was speaking on the telephone and making notes. Only as they were approaching the desk did he look up and motion for them to sit down. Rath sank into a black leather chair. The Chinese man dealt with their hats and coats and remained on his feet. After he had taken the coats away, he placed Rath’s papers and the Mauser on the desk. Then he took up position behind it, hands clasped together. The man at the desk hung up and took a quick look at Rath’s ID.

‘Good evening, Herr Rath. Did you enjoy
Venuskeller
? We don’t often have police officers as guests.’

‘Johann Marlow I presume?’ Rath said, taking an Overstolz from his jacket. ‘May I?’

He was amazed. It was clear he was sitting in a criminals’ lair and that the criminals knew he was a cop, yet he wasn’t afraid in the slightest. The coke was still at work. Marlow raised an eyebrow briefly, and the Chinese man placed a heavy brass ashtray by Rath’s chair. He took up position behind the desk once more.

‘You know your way round,’ Marlow said. ‘There aren’t too many police officers in this city who would recognise me. The few who do are well paid.’ He took a cigar from a metal container himself, and cut off the tip. The Chinese man provided him with a light and he puffed with relish. ‘But I don’t think we’re paying
you
!’

Rath lit a cigarette. ‘No,’ he said casually.

‘Perhaps we could make a deal?’

‘What makes you think I’ll help you? I’m a police officer and you deal cocaine.’

‘I only see to it that people get what they want, and these days that means cocaine. Amongst other things.’ Marlow leaned back like a Pomeranian squire. ‘The law of supply and demand is the only law that a businessman should adhere to.’ He smiled politely. ‘Not least, it was my supply that satisfied a demand on your part, as Sebald informs me. Perhaps I can help you in other ways too. In business, giving goes hand-in-hand with taking.’

Rath cursed his own foolishness. Why on earth had he taken Oppenberg’s cocaine? Marlow was putting him under pressure. The drug made him susceptible to blackmail – and it made him brave. Both he could do without. Brave was just another word for rash. He had to pull himself together and be careful as hell.

‘I’m not here to make a deal,’ he said.

‘Let’s have a little chat. You can decide after that.’ Marlow’s voice, soft as velvet just now, became ever so slightly sharper when he turned to the manager. ‘Sebald, you shouldn’t leave your club unattended for so long, and Benno is better at the door than in a soft chair.’

The manager and the gorilla stood up. The Chinese man escorted the pair of them outside.

‘It should be easier to talk now,’ Marlow said when they were alone. He drew thoughtfully on his cigar, before continuing. ‘Sebald tells me you’re in possession of an interesting photo. I’d be curious to hear where you have it from.’

‘You just spoke about giving and taking. Actually, I’m here to ask you a few questions.’

Marlow laughed. The Chinese man had returned without a sound and placed a glass first in front of his boss and then in front of the inspector. He poured them both whiskies.

‘To giving and taking,’ Marlow said and raised his glass. ‘Tell me where you got the photo and ask your first question.’

The stuff
tasted
good too. What did this man want from him? ‘From a cellar,’ he said.

‘I see.’ Marlow drew on his cigar and gazed after the smoke rings. ‘I’d like to place my cards on the table, Inspector. My people were also in that cellar. I am in possession of a similar photo.’

‘Why are your people looking for Kardakov? Has he been misappropriating cocaine?’

‘Why don’t you tell me why the police are looking for him.’

‘Allow me to place my cards on the table. The police aren’t looking for him.
I’m
looking for him.’

‘Why?’

He had a moment of sudden inspiration. ‘The Sorokin gold.’

Marlow appeared unruffled but Rath sensed that he had scored a bull’s eye. It took a little too long for the man to formulate his next sentence. A wave of a finger and the Chinese man refilled Rath’s glass.

‘Don’t you think you’re overstretching yourself a little there? Is it not a few tons too heavy for someone acting on their own?’

‘Who said I was acting on my own?’

‘You don’t have the police force behind you at any rate.’ Marlow laughed. ‘Perhaps you’re dreaming of an early retirement! You wouldn’t be the first cop to switch sides. Are a few corrupt colleagues involved too? The one who pulled the courier out of the canal? Perhaps he wasn’t even dead and you managed to squeeze a little more out of him? And now you’re going after the big money? Be careful. Even with a whole heap of cops, you’re still out of your depth.’

The courier! Rath’s ears had pricked up, yet he was trying to appear as bored as possible. Marlow was obviously talking about Boris.

‘Do you know why Kardakov went underground?’

‘Probably because he’s playing his own game.’

‘And the courier? Why did he have to die?’

‘Inspector Rath! Don’t play dumber than you are, what do you know about the gold?’

‘That it’s in Berlin.’

Marlow gave a forced smile. ‘Nor should you make the mistake of playing
me
for a fool. Let’s get down to brass tacks! You want the gold and I want the gold. We both know something. If we combine our information and our capabilities, then perhaps we have a chance of getting it. What else do you know?’

Rath shrugged. ‘That it’s supposed to be worth around eighty million.’

Marlow laughed loudly, but he sounded anything but amused. ‘You need to tell me something more than I already know!’

‘I’d love to, but clearly you know so much that I can’t.’

Marlow stubbed out his cigar. It looked as if he was squashing a bug.

‘Perhaps I should give you a little more time to think about it. Kuen-Yao will see you out.’

‘How can I reach you?’

‘If you want to speak to me, come to
Venuskeller
. But for that reason only! If you want to have a good time, go somewhere else. Sebald doesn’t like cops taking coke in his club.’

The Chinese man stood behind him holding his coat and hat. Rath stood up.

‘Goodbye, Inspector,’ Marlow said. ‘Kuen-Yao will return your weapon when you are back on the street.’

‘Thanks for the whisky,’ Rath said.

‘The pleasure was all mine. It was nice to meet you, Inspector,’ Marlow said in a friendly tone that sent a shiver down Rath’s spine. ‘I hope for a little more cooperation the next time we meet.’

It sounded like a threat, and no doubt it was supposed to be one.

Sometimes he regretted not having a car. The neon signs outside
Plaza
were out and the taxi rank at Küstriner Platz looked as abandoned as a bank vault after a visit from the Brothers Sass. There were no more trains running at this hour either. A good thing he didn’t have to go into the office tomorrow. He wasn’t on duty again until the evening – when Operation
Nighthawk
was set to go off. He would take
Venuskeller
off the list. No-one needed to know where he had been tonight. They wouldn’t get to Marlow with a raid anyway, only to his front man, Sebald. Worse still, Marlow would know who to thank for this blue-uniformed company away day.

The nearest taxi rank was at
Schlesischer Bahnhof
. He had no option but to set off, turning up the collar of his coat and burying his hands in his pockets. A penetrating wind was blowing across the square. It seemed a storm was brewing.

He tried to assemble the pieces of the puzzle. Lana Nikoros, alias Countess Svetlana Sorokina, tells her lover, Alexej Kardakov, about her family’s gold and they decide to smuggle it into Berlin. To this end, they engage the services of a courier, a Russian named Boris. Why a courier? Is he taking the gold to Berlin, or just a message? Whatever the case, the courier dies after looking for Alexej Kardakov in a foreign city. He seems to be furious with Kardakov. Why? Did he pull a fast one on him? Play his own game, as Marlow put it? At any rate, Kardakov and the Countess go to ground. Perhaps they deprived Boris of his rightful reward, or eliminated an accessory? Before making off with the gold.

Rubbish, he thought. In order to get that amount of gold from the Soviet Union across to Germany, you needed more than one helper in Russia and in Germany. How did Marlow know about the gold? Coincidence? Had Kardakov blabbed, or had he deliberately got the underworld king involved? Somehow they had to convert a lot of gold into cash, and that was only possible with connections such as Marlow had. And in Russia? The Sorokins still had friends there. What had the
Reichswehr
officer at Bruno’s said about communist separatists who called themselves
the Red Fortress
? Was Kardakov one of them? Why not? A hack writer…

A sound interrupted his thoughts. He stood still and listened. Nothing there. He looked around. The streetlamps were casting such a wretched light that the exterior walls of the houses lay in darkness. There was no-one to be seen. It had been raining. The wet pavement reflected the weak light. As he walked on, he thought he heard something again – an echo of his own steps. He was now certain that he was being followed. Someone was walking behind him who didn’t want Rath to see him. This neighbourhood wasn’t safe, especially not at this hour. He felt his left side, at the Mauser still in its holster.

At the next turning he veered to the right, even though the station was now in sight. He wanted to be certain. The echo continued. Rath increased his tempo, then stopped abruptly and turned around. There was still no-one there. Nevertheless, the house façades were in such darkness that he would be protected from view simply by moving along the walls. Rath waited until the next street and darted sideways again. He moved to the nearest courtyard entrance and leapt inside. His pursuer had also fallen into a cautious trot, but stood still for a fraction of a second too long.

Again Rath heard the artificial echo of his steps. He listened into the night, heard raindrops dripping onto the asphalt from gutters and window ledges. In between times, he thought he could hear the sound of soles on cobblestone. Only very softly, but it was there. His pursuer still hadn’t given up. Rath retreated inside the courtyard, still keeping the entrance gate in sight. He had to conceal himself, had to surprise his pursuer.

He looked around. It wasn’t a normal courtyard he had stumbled across. In the dim glow of the courtyard lighting, he could make out a construction fence, behind which a new building was being raised. In front of it was a trailer. Another look in the direction of the entrance, and within a few strides he was in the shadow of the trailer. From here he had a good view of the gate. It had started raining again.

He didn’t have to wait long. The shadow of a man in a hat and coat. Not a flat cap, just a normal wide-brimmed hat, the latest in fashion. One of Marlow’s people? Had Dr M. sent Benno or a similarly friendly customer after him?

The man stopped, obviously considering whether he should enter the courtyard. And then he approached, still slowly and cautiously, moving along the exterior wall, gazing around time and again. Rath unbuttoned his coat and jacket and loosened the push-button on his holster. He waited until the man reached the courtyard and released the safety catch of his Mauser. With weapon drawn he emerged out of the shadow of the trailer.

‘Looking for me?’

The unknown figure stood still, the surprise had worked. He turned his head, seemed to consider if he could still escape, and then drew closer. Silently.

‘Stop! Stay where you are!’

Rath trained his pistol on the stranger.

The man was still a few paces away from him. Not particularly big, it wasn’t Benno, at any rate.

‘Why you are following me…’

The man took another step closer.

‘Stay where you are, I said!’

Rath’s voice grew louder. The man was still silent, but was now standing still.

‘We can just as easily talk at the station, if it’s too uncomfortable for you here,’ Rath said. ‘Then you won’t need to worry about where you’re spending the night.’

He couldn’t make out the eyes under the shadow of the hat, but the narrow mouth had twitched at the word
station
. It was only a threat, Rath wasn’t seriously intending to take the man to Alex. And then he thought for a moment that he was the one who had been lured into a trap.