Babylon Berlin (58 page)

And he did. She was right. Rath reached for the telephone.

Unfortunately the commissioner was neither in his office nor at home. The man was well guarded. Dörrzwiebel was already packing his case for Magdeburg. The Zörgiebel family lived in spacious police accommodation on the first floor of the Castle, but the commissioner used it more for official purposes, such as when he received prominent guests. For the most part, he lived at his villa in
Zehlendorf. Rath decided to drive out there. The Opel was still parked where he had left it in the courtyard below.

He needed almost half an hour. Outside the wrought-iron gate a police officer stood guard. A good sign: Zörgiebel was at home. Rath got out of the car. The cop looked at him suspiciously. The commissioner’s guards had been on edge since the May disturbances, when the communists had stirred up a lot of ill-feeling towards him. He showed his police ID to make it clear he was no Red.

‘What are you doing out here, Inspector?’

‘I have an important message for the commissioner.’

‘You can leave it with me.’

‘A personal message.’

‘The commissioner isn’t receiving any visitors today.’ ‘He’ll make an exception for me.’

‘I hardly think so. I have strict orders not to let anyone through.’

‘Tell him Inspector Rath wants to speak with him.’

‘I…’

He was interrupted by the beeping of a car horn. The cop moved keenly to the gate and opened both sides. There was a crunch of gravel as the heavy Maybach rolled slowly out of the entrance. Rath could make out Zörgiebel’s face in the back as he sat reading through some files. He ran to the still cruising vehicle and rapped on the window. The commissioner didn’t react but the driver did. He stepped on the gas.

Rath chased after the car as it began to pick up speed, until a loud cry caused him to stop.

‘Halt! Stay where you are! Or I’ll shoot!’

He turned round. The paranoid cop had actually drawn his pistol.

‘Listen, this is a misunderstanding. I need to speak to the commissioner. Put your weapon down!’

‘I’d rather you put your hands
up
, my friend!’

‘My God! I’m not a communist! What do you think I’m going to do? Overturn the commissioner’s car with my bare hands?’

The cop didn’t say anything, just gazed in confusion over Rath’s shoulder. The sound of the engine was growing louder. The Maybach braked right next to the inspector. Zörgiebel had lowered the window.

‘I thought so! My dear Rath, what are you doing here?’

‘Good evening, Commissioner. I think I’m involuntarily testing the speed of your guard’s reactions.’

‘Lower your weapon, officer. Can’t you tell an inspector from an assassin?’

The cop put his pistol away with a hangdog expression. At last Rath could turn his attention towards Zörgiebel.

‘I’m here because I have an important message for you, sir…’

‘Gennat’s told me everything already. Good work, man, good work! You didn’t have to drive all the way out here! You’ve taken what I said last week too close to heart!’

‘It’s not about the Kardakov case, Commissioner. Well, actually it is, about things connected to it anyway.’

‘Can’t it wait until next week? I’m en route to Magdeburg. The party conference begins tomorrow and we have our first meeting tonight.’

‘It can’t wait, Commissioner. It’s of the utmost urgency. At the same time, I must ask for absolute confidentiality.’

Zörgiebel considered for a moment.

‘Do you have enough money on you?’

‘Pardon, Commissioner?’

‘Do you have enough money to buy a ticket from Magdeburg back to Berlin?’

‘I think so.’

‘Then what are you waiting for? Get in!’

A moment later, Rath was next to Zörgiebel on the comfortable backseat of the Maybach. They had the back of the car all to themselves. In front of them sat the driver and a police lieutenant, separated by a thick glass pane which blocked out any sound. The driver pounded the vehicle over the country road towards Potsdam.

‘We won’t be disturbed here,’ Zörgiebel said. He had finished reading and seemed to be in a better mood. ‘Can I offer you something to drink?’

Rath was astonished. The commissioner’s official vehicle even had a little bar.

‘Usually I don’t drink when I’m on duty,’ he said. ‘But right now I could really use a whisky.’

‘You’re not on duty at the moment, my boy,’ Zörgiebel said and poured.

‘Depends on how you look at it. This is an official conversation.’

‘Come on! We know each other well enough for this to be off the record.’ Zörgiebel passed the whisky glass to Rath and raised his own. ‘Cheers, Inspector.’

The men drank. The commissioner had poured himself a cognac. He would need it too, Rath thought. And when he was through with his story, he would need another.

Rath took a deep breath then let fly.

Barely a hundred kilometres later, he had told him everything. The Maybach had just passed through Genthin, and the driver had stepped on the gas once more. As the vehicle proceeded along
Reichsstrasse 1
towards the city of Magdeburg, Zörgiebel did in fact pour himself another cognac and fell silent. He obviously needed to chew on what the inspector had just told him.

Rath used the time to lay his badge, his ID and his gun on the black leather.

Zörgiebel looked at him dumbfounded. ‘What on earth are you doing? Put your weapon away! Do you want it to go off?’

‘I would like to request that you discharge me from police duty, sir.’

‘Ha, you’re not getting away that easily. Now, take your things off the seat!’

Rath stowed the items in his pocket. Only now did he notice traces of a white powder on his ID. With a casual gesture, he wiped it away.

‘I must say, I have some difficulty believing this story,’ Zörgiebel said finally. ‘A
Stahlhelm
network, a flourishing weapons trade from police reserves, which is also being used to arm the Nazis?’

That one of his officers hadn’t baulked either at killing people or having them killed, seemed less of an irritant to the commissioner.

‘Call Wündisch,’ Rath suggested.

‘Oh I will, you can count on that. As soon as I reach Magdeburg. So 1A have been doing their own thing again, have they!’

‘Sacrificing an inexperienced officer in the process.’

Zörgiebel shook his head, as if he still couldn’t believe it. ‘Now, young Rath,’ he said, ‘none of what you have told me today can ever get out, you understand that, don’t you? Neither your own transgressions, nor the arms trafficking within our institution, nor the political aberrations of a single officer.’

‘I’m sorry, sir, but I don’t see any other way,’ Rath said. ‘Only when we expose the whole truth can we begin to root out the black sheep amongst us. I am offering to step down from police service in order to appear as a witness against DCI Wolter.’

‘Cut this nonsense out! Leave the service? Don’t even think about it! I will not allow it!’ Zörgiebel was indignant. ‘What do you think will happen if this story ends up in the public eye? There’s already an investigative committee following the May disturbances. Against the police, not the Reds! What do you think will happen when it gets out that there are people amongst us flogging police arms to the Nazis?’

‘You’re really prepared to let someone like Wolter get off scot free? Just because it might create political difficulties?’

‘Scot free? There can be no question of that happening! We just can’t go at it like a bull at a gate! We cannot allow the reputation of our police force to suffer further damage.’

‘What do you propose then?’

‘That’s what I’m trying to work out! And don’t go thinking
you’ll
be spared either, Inspector!’

33

Half an hour later the official car of the Berlin Commissioner crossed the Elbe into Magdeburg. As the sun set behind the many-towered silhouette of the city, Zörgiebel asked the driver to stop outside the main station.

‘You know what you have to do, Inspector?’

Rath nodded. ‘I think it could work. What do we do if he takes the bait?’

‘Leave that to me, my dear Rath. Just give me concrete proof of Wolter’s links to the Nazis, and I’ll take care of the rest!’

‘I won’t let you down, sir,’ Rath said as he opened the car door.

‘Best of luck!’

‘Likewise, Commissioner.’

‘Keep me up to date.’

Rath got out. The Maybach turned and came to a halt on the other side of the road outside the Hotel
Continental
. A boy opened the door and Zörgiebel heaved himself out of the vehicle. Rath gazed after the commissioner until he had disappeared inside before entering through the great central portal into the main station. He studied the timetable. Another three quarters of an hour before the next fast train to Berlin. First he bought himself a coffee and counted his change. Then he found the nearest public telephone and dialled.

‘Yes,’ said the unmistakeable voice of Johann Marlow at the other end of the line. So, it really was that easy to get hold of Dr M.

‘I think I’ve found a way for you to get your hands on the gold,’ Rath said.

That was all it took to make Johann Marlow into a patient listener.

The train took two hours to get to Berlin. At Potsdamer station, Rath fetched the pistol from his locker and stowed it in his pocket, making sure no-one saw him do it. On the station forecourt he got into one of the many taxis waiting there and rode back to Zehlendorf. It had been raining while he was away; the streets were glistening wet. The Opel stood outside Zörgiebel’s garden gate. The guard had been withdrawn. Rath switched on the engine and turned off the main road into Kolonnenstrasse. Even at this late hour there was a build-up of traffic outside Berlin Tempelhof Airport. Rath weaved his way through the crush and drove on towards Neukölln, before parking the car in Leykestrasse.

Krajewski wasn’t home. A good thing, as a little preparation would make the thing seem more believable. Rath had the door open in a flash, groping his way through the darkness into the kitchen. The sugar bowl? Why not? The little pistol fitted perfectly, although there was already a bag of cocaine there. Clearly, Krajewski hadn’t learned anything. When Rath left the flat, he didn’t go to any great lengths to conceal the break-in. No-one had seen him. He emerged onto the street, got in his car and made himself comfortable. He had a perfect view of Krajewski’s front door, and enough time to think over the plan he had sketched out on the train.

It was three in the morning when Krajewski arrived. Rath was happy that he had slept so well the previous night. Otherwise he would almost certainly have nodded off, despite the many cigarettes he had smoked. Once the man had disappeared into the house, Rath climbed out of the car and rang the doorbell like crazy. The fake Kaiser looked surprised to see him.

‘You coming in the middle of the night now? I have to sleep too you know!’

‘But not right now. Let me in, I need to talk to you.’

Krajewski opened the door, more obliging than his initial griping suggested.

‘What’s the matter then?’

‘I came to warn you. You’re in danger.’

‘Well, that’s new. The fuzz, warning us! The taxpayer’s finally getting his money’s worth!’

‘This flat has been broken into.’

‘There’s nothing here.’

‘The burglar brought you something.’

‘That was nice of him.’

‘Not exactly. He’s trying to fit you up.’

‘What?’

‘Do you own a pistol?’

‘You should know. It was your upstanding colleague who took it off me!’

‘Then, why don’t you take a look? If you really don’t have a pistol, then it was a false alarm and I can be on my way.’

‘I’m sure it’s nothing,’ Krajewski said. Nevertheless, he began opening drawers, gazing suspiciously over to the side, probably trying to make sure Rath didn’t find his stash of cocaine.

When he emerged from the kitchen, he had the Lignose in his hand.

‘I don’t believe it! My little pride and joy’s back! To what do I owe the honour?’

‘I thought as much,’ Rath said. ‘It was my colleague.’

‘What the hell? Is he trying to give it back discreetly, or what?’

‘Hardly. DCI Wolter is a piece of shit. He put a bullet through someone’s head with your Lignose and now he wants to pin it on you.’

‘Whose head?’

‘A police officer.’

‘And I’m supposed to believe you?’

‘I’m investigating the case. Discreetly of course. It’s very hard to prove it was the DCI. We had hoped to find the murder weapon at his home. Unfortunately, we were too late. He was able to hide it here just in time. Don’t go thinking he’s coming to collect it. Chances are he’s about to put a team of cops onto you. If I were you, I’d get rid of anything here that isn’t entirely legal. The pistol first of all.’

‘Christ! My prints are all over it now.’

‘You can wipe them away.’ Rath began to doubt that Krajewski was the right man for his plan. Still, he was the only possibility; the only one who would be credible enough. ‘Now listen to me,’ he said. ‘I have a plan for how we can get the bastard, but you need to help me.’

‘Shaft a copper?’ Krajewski grinned. ‘Gladly. I just never thought it would be an inspector who’d ask!’

Rath forced a smile. ‘Happy to oblige.’

‘What do I have to do?’

Rath fetched the note he had written on the train from his pocket. ‘Can you read?’

Krajewski nodded.

‘Good. Everything you need’s here. Call this number and do exactly what it says. Then you’d best burn the note, understood?’

Krajewski nodded and skimmed the lines. He paused in surprise. ‘But… this is your number!’

‘Not anymore. I work in Homicide now.’

‘But you want me to ring it anyway?’

‘Correct. Tomorrow morning, early. Just do exactly as it says.’

The concierge in the
Excelsior
seemed almost sad when Rath asked for a taxi and the bill the next morning.

‘I hope the inspector will be honouring us with another visit soon,’ he said.