Babylon Berlin (56 page)

‘What a surprise,’ he said. ‘Knocking off already? And people are saying how much A Division have had on recently.’

‘They’re not wrong. We’ve just had to scrape a man off a stone floor. Tried to fly through the stairwell. Yesterday a dead Russian, and today more of the same. These people live life on the edge, maybe they picked the wrong fight.’

‘Or maybe they’re just stupid. That’s my theory anyway.’

‘There was me thinking you had a high opinion of them. Of Selenskij at any rate. That’s what Heinrich Röllecke said.’

Surprise registered briefly on Bruno’s face. ‘So, you were at Röllecke’s?’

‘Yes, and he was rather talkative!’

‘Doesn’t sound like him.’

‘You’re lagging behind with your consignment. He doesn’t like that.’

Although Bruno still had himself under control, Rath could see the little digs and provocations were hitting home.

‘You don’t look too healthy, Gereon. Can you tell me why your eyes are twitching like that? Have to be careful you don’t go to the dogs in A Division. The work doesn’t seem to agree with you.’

‘We’ve a lot on at the moment.’

‘Then take a holiday.’

‘Not while there’s a guilty bastard still on the loose.’

‘Come on, the case is closed. You solved it: patriotic Russians eliminating a few Reds from their home country. The killers are dead, all is well. Time to let it go, rest on your laurels for a while.’

‘Closed, my arse. There are still too many open questions.’

‘Who cares?’

‘I do, for one. It’s just that the killers can’t help us anymore.’

‘Then you’ll have to figure it out on your own.’

‘I know more than you think. There’s only one thing I don’t understand: why did Fallin and Selenskij torture Boris before they packed him off in a stolen car and sent him flying into the canal?’

‘Maybe they just messed up. It can happen. First the guy dies on them before they can get anything useful out of him, then they try to cover up the whole thing and start a campaign of disinformation. Only it fails.’

‘It was supposed to look like Boris had pinched the gold from the
Red Fortress
?’

‘If you say so,’ said Wolter with a shrug. ‘Sounds plausible to me.’

‘I don’t think so. It stretches credibility when someone with mangled hands and feet is found in a car he’s supposed to have driven himself, don’t you think?’

‘Not if the car ends up in front of a tree and the driver’s already mush. Maybe that was the plan, until the wheel spun out of control at the kerb and everything went tits up. By which stage things were already dead in the water. Or should I say the canal.’

Rath remembered how the vehicle had shaved a tree on its way in.

‘Then why did they dig up Kardakov’s corpse?’ he asked. ‘Was that part of another failed disinformation campaign?’

‘What do you mean failed? They made the police look pretty ridiculous there. Above all the new hero of A Division. They made him into a laughing stock.’

‘Maybe. I’m just wondering why they’d bother. A Division weren’t interested in the Russians. On the contrary, they’d released them a week before. So why would they care about making the police look ridiculous?’

‘What do I know? I’m a vice cop, not a homicide detective.’

‘You know damn well. It was their skipper who’d run into difficulties, a police officer who had murdered a colleague and realised an old friend was closing in on him. An officer who along with everything else was also having problems with a
Ringverein
. So he tried not only to create trouble for this
Ringverein
, but for the police as well – to distract them, above all the new hero of A Division, as you call him.’

‘I prefer laughing stock…’

‘Dumb luck that this laughing stock won’t let go then, isn’t it? He’s hell bent on convicting a CID officer of his colleague’s murder.’

‘Everyone’s entitled to make a fool of themselves. Like I say, I’d recommend you take a holiday. Be satisfied with what you’ve got. I’ve just given you some excellent fodder for the commissioner.’

‘Would you be prepared to testify to it in court?’

‘Why should I? It’s all just speculation. An experienced CID officer gives an up-and-coming officer a tip-off. It’s up to you to find the evidence.
You’re
the homicide detective,
I
work in E Division.’

‘I could use your assertions against you, as proof that you’re in cahoots with the Russians, and Josef Wilczek too. As proof that you’re after the Sorokin gold, that you intend to use it to buy weapons for the
Stahlhelm
, that you’ve been trafficking police arms for years with Rudi Scheer, cutting deals with your volunteer army, the SA and God knows who else.’

‘With the Red Front too, no doubt?’ Wolter laughed loudly. He removed his hat and wiped his sweaty brow with a handkerchief. ‘You’ve got a big mouth for a cop with a cocaine problem.’

‘I just want to make it clear that you’ve reached the end,’ Rath countered. ‘You killed Jänicke for nothing. Just because it worked with Thies doesn’t mean you’ll get away a second time.’

‘
Me
at the end?’ Bruno grinned, but looked as if he’d sooner have lashed out. ‘Have you looked in the mirror recently, Gereon? Do you think the court is going to believe a coked-up cop who shot someone and then botched the cover-up?’

‘I haven’t shot anyone.’

‘You shot someone in Cologne, remember? And you killed Josef Wilczek. Why else would you have given Ballistics the wrong bullet? It can only have been you.’

‘What you’ve just told me is as good as a confession. A confession that you killed Jänicke!’

‘Ach, would you cut it out!’

‘You know that Jänicke was killed with Krajewski’s Lignose because you’re the one who pulled the trigger!’

‘But where’s the pistol now? It isn’t in
my
possession, Inspector! Make sure you don’t dig yourself a hole you can’t get out of.’

‘Do you even know why you became a police officer?’

‘For the same reason I still am one. To maintain law and order and fight against those trying to destroy it. What about you? Why did you become a police officer? Because Daddy told you to?’

Rath ignored the jibe. ‘My reason is very simple. I’m a police officer so that bastards like you don’t get off scot free.’

‘We all deserve punishment. You’re a Catholic, you should know that.’

‘I can go to confession.’

‘Then go.’ Wolter smirked. ‘Stop pretending you have less to confess than me!’

‘You shouldn’t brag so much! I can finish you if I want to!’

‘Really? If you tell the truth about you and Josef Wilczek then perhaps you’ll have something on me. Perhaps. It would, of course, presuppose that you’re a credible witness. And there I have my doubts. Still, if you want, you can always take that chance. Tell them what you did with Wilczek! Tell them why Inspector Gereon Rath made no progress on the Wilczek case! Let’s see what happens. I won’t be doing it. I can promise you that much. I won’t be leaving you holding the greasy end of the stick. Don’t ask me why. For old time’s sake, perhaps.’

‘You really are a cynical arsehole.’

‘I’m a police officer and a realist. If you just thought about it for a moment, you’d realise I have more on you than you have on me. But that’s not what this is about. I want peace. So why don’t we just forget about the whole thing and pretend it never happened? Serve up the two dead Russians as the killers, and Zörgiebel will be happy. Why? How? Wherefore? No-one’s interested in these questions anymore. You want a career with CID, don’t you? Then you have to turn a blind eye occasionally, and not ask too many questions.’

‘Don’t you dare tell me what I have to do!’

Wolter looked him and up down, squinting. ‘Please excuse me. Emmi will be back any moment and I want to be finished with the lawn by then.’ He put his hat back on, turned round and trudged back to his lawnmower.

Rath looked at his broad, sweaty back, helpless with rage. When he was back in the car he slammed the flat of his hand against the steering wheel so hard it hurt.

The worst thing about it was that Wolter was right. There was nothing he could do, absolutely nothing. He couldn’t even find an outlet for his rage.

32

She was in the middle of tracing her eyebrows when the doorbell rang. It couldn’t be him already. Or could it? If he was one of those overly punctual types, then the evening would be over before it had even begun.

‘Greta, can you see who it is?’ she called from the bathroom door. ‘It’s almost certainly for you!’

She wasn’t expecting him for a good hour. Ten o’clock, she had said. She had got back from the station at eight, needing a little time to recover after such a lousy day.

Gereon Rath had reported another corpse. Every day it was someone new. The murder suspects were dropping around him like flies. Only,
these
dead Russians might actually be the killers. Unlike Kardakov, with whom he had made Böhm look a fool, only for it to emerge that he had been duped himself. She had almost felt sorry for him, the way the whole Castle made fun of him for selling Zörgiebel a dead man as the killer, but she had pushed aside her sympathy. He deserved everything he had coming, a thousand times over. The way he had treated Böhm, the way he had treated
her
. She thought she had finally found a man who might last longer than a week. Much longer, perhaps even the rest of her life. Yes, she had fallen in love. How unforgivably foolish! It made what he had done to her even worse, the dirty swine!

Now at last Herr Rath had his killers. There was no doubt the Russians had tortured their two fellow countrymen, and they had probably killed them too. A storage shed with a cellar had been rented in Nikita Fallin’s name on the site of the
Anhalter
goods station. ED had found traces of blood on the concrete floor, in addition to various tools, among them a large sledgehammer, likewise stained with blood. There were large quantities of heroin hidden in a spare tyre, and in the warehouse above they had found a number of cars, all stolen, some with fresh paintwork. The Russians seemed to have been running such a lucrative car dealership that they had been prepared to use one of their own stolen vehicles to plunge their first victim into the canal.

Unfortunately, that part would have to remain a mystery. Zörgiebel wouldn’t mind: who needed a motive? The important thing was that the murders were solved!

Nevertheless, it looked as though someone had had a major hand in both their deaths. An electric hairdryer didn’t fall into the bath of its own accord; and the banister in Yorckstrasse had been prepared in advance.

Reinhold had been obliged to eat some humble pie for letting the woman escape. He couldn’t even describe her properly, because he had only caught a brief glimpse of her in the gloomy stairwell, most of it spent staring into the light. To atone for his error he had stayed at the Castle until Gennat had almost booted him out. Quite unlike Gereon Rath, whose whereabouts were still unknown. The man was taking too many liberties, even for Buddha, who usually gave his officers plenty of leeway.

But reporting a corpse and hanging around the crime scene, only to leave others to do the dirty work, wasn’t how to endear yourself to Gennat. Or Böhm for that matter, but he couldn’t stand Gereon Rath anyway.

There was a knock on the bathroom door. Greta poked her red head through the crack in the door.

‘Charly? Are you decent?’

‘Just about. Why?’

‘Visitor for you.’

‘Who is it?’

‘Someone from the station.’

She examined her face in the mirror. Good enough for someone from the Castle. Did Reinhold want to have a cry on her shoulder? The assistant detective could be a little sensitive at times. Especially when he had made a mistake.

She emerged from the bathroom to discover the man she had least been expecting to see standing in the hall. The man who had been missing in action at the station today. Gereon Rath.

He looked a shadow of his former self. Pitiful. Dark circles under the eyes, sunken cheeks, as if he hadn’t eaten or slept for days. What was the matter with him? He had tracked down the last of his killers, hadn’t he? Even if only as a corpse.

Upon seeing her he smiled in embarrassment, almost apologetically in fact.

‘Good evening, Inspector,’ she said coldly, and the smile on his face faded.

‘I’d forgotten we were addressing each other formally,’ he said. ‘To be quite honest, I don’t want to play these games anymore.’

‘Who said we were playing games?’

Greta cleared her throat. ‘Charlotte, I’ll be in my room if you need anything.’

Now they were alone. What did he want? At least he hadn’t brought her flowers; she’d have beaten him over the head with them.

‘Can we sit down somewhere? I need to talk to you.’

‘I wasn’t aware we had anything to talk about, Inspector! I must ask you to leave.’

‘And if I don’t want to?’

‘Then
I’ll
leave. And fetch the police. You ought to be familiar with the crime of trespassing.’

She reached indiscriminately in her wardrobe for a coat and stormed past him. The pig-headed fool!

She was already down by the front door when she heard his footsteps behind her on the stairs. Well, if he wanted a chase, he could have one!

He had known it wouldn’t be easy, but he hadn’t thought she’d actually run away from him. For a moment he thought it was just a stupid joke and she’d be right back, but what if she took a little longer and returned with a few cops? The nearest police station was just around the corner in Paulstrasse. Rath uttered a quiet curse as he ran out after her. When he emerged onto the street he gazed around searchingly. On one side of Spenerstrasse rose Moabit prison, on the other the lines of the city railway. There was no sign of Charly.

Rath ran to the nearest corner. Melanchthonstrasse. The link road to Paulstrasse: the 28th precinct was right on the corner, but she hadn’t gone in this direction. He turned round, catching sight of her black coat disappearing into Calvinstrasse. She was running down to the Spree. He sprinted after her, at least now he knew where she was, and caught up with her just before the bridge leading to Bellevue station.