Фолькер Кучер - The Silent Death

‘I’m not about to tell Böhm how to deploy his officers. We can’t just drop everything because the press has pounced on a celebrity case. Take care of the task Böhm has given you, and apologise to him. You heard what Dr Weiss said.’ With that, he began sorting papers, not deigning to cast even a glance in Rath’s direction.

Gräf still hadn’t been in contact and couldn’t be reached. ‘He’s out,’ said Erika Voss, who had reappeared in the meantime. According to her, Gräf wasn’t expected until the next briefing, early tomorrow morning. Böhm wasn’t in the office either. Erika Voss shrugged her shoulders apologetically.

‘Then make an appointment with his secretary, ask him to call back – anything,’ Rath said. ‘I need to speak to the DCI today.’ Slamming the door to his office, he sat behind his desk. He felt like sweeping the mound of papers to the floor, but restrained himself and smoked an Overstolz. As soon as he had stubbed it out, he reached for the receiver. ‘Erika, please go to ED and search for anything Kronberg and his colleagues have collected on a man named Höhler, Albert.’

That would occupy her for a while, and spare her the temptation of listening to his telephone calls. After he heard the door close, he checked to see if Voss had gone and picked up the telephone. The first thing he did was ask to be put through to the editorial office at B.Z. am Mittag .

‘Herr Fink is popular with the police today,’ the editorial secretary said before putting him through. So Weiss had called.

‘Inspector Rath!’ The reporter sounded pleased. ‘Have you decided to tell me a little more?’

Rath went on the attack. ‘What were you thinking?’ he shouted. ‘Why the hell did you put all that in your paper?’

‘It’s only what you told me. The thing is, Inspector, you and your colleagues think you can foil us with your silence, but that is a mistake. If I want to write a story, I write it. If you try to stint on detail, then I cobble together from whatever you have provided, intentionally or otherwise, and infer the rest. Provide me with more comprehensive information and you’ll have, firstly, more control over the report and, secondly, a new friend.’

‘You think I’m looking for a friend?’

‘As I said, you won’t regret it.’

‘But I will regret it if I don’t speak to you. Is that what you’re saying?’

‘Your detective chief inspector comes off far worse…’

‘You quoted me against my will!’

‘You knew you were talking to a reporter.’

‘But not that you would write what I told you!’

‘Really? That’s my job.’

‘Nothing could be further from my mind than to publicly denounce a colleague.’

‘Then don’t do it.’ The swine had an answer for everything. ‘You should have told me your remarks were confidential. I keep agreements like that.’

‘We never made any agreement.’

‘You see why we should have?’

‘I had, and have, nothing to say to you. And yet at Alex, people think I’m your informant. How do you explain that?’

‘If that’s the case, you might as well be.’

‘Pardon me?’

‘You might as well be my informant. I mean, if people already think you are. Work with me and I promise…’

Rath hung up. He was in luck with the next number he dialled. Weinert had his coat on, but was still at home.

‘Cut to the chase,’ the journalist said, ‘they’re pining for me over at Tageblatt. The Great Coalition crisis needs to be analysed.’

‘Do you think you might be able to pitch a second story?’

‘Is this the green light for the Winter story?’

‘Yes, but with one qualification. It would be good if my name didn’t appear too often, since I’m no longer responsible for the case.’

‘I have to give a few names. A few police sources. One, at least.’

‘DCI Böhm is leading the investigation.’

‘He’s not saying anything.’

‘Then I’ll give you someone’s private number. He’s sick at the moment, but is usually part of Böhm’s team.’

‘Does he know the case? If he’s sick, I mean.’

‘Ask the right questions and you’ll get your answer. I don’t have to tell you how to do your job.’

‘Give me the number and I’ll try. While we’re on the subject: I’ve arranged a meeting for you. With Heyer.’

‘Who?’

‘Willi Heyer. The screenwriter. Tomorrow at one in the Romanisches Café.’

‘With all those would-be celebrities?’

‘I’ll be there too.’

‘Well, no offence intended.’

‘It’s OK, it contains the highest density of unsuccessful authors in the country. As well as a few successful ones.’

There was a knock and Erika Voss poked her head around the door.

‘Back from ED already?’ Rath asked, covering the mouthpiece with his hands. ‘I said I didn’t want to be disturbed.’

‘It’s DCI Böhm! He can speak with you now but doesn’t have much time. You’ll have to hurry.’

Gräf and Lange were loitering around Böhm’s office when Rath entered. The DCI didn’t look up from the file he was studying. ‘You wanted to speak to me?’ he said.

‘Yes, Sir,’ Rath said, ‘but I thought we might be able to speak in priv…’

‘I don’t keep secrets from my colleagues and don’t have much time. What’s this about?’

‘I wanted to apologise, Sir.’

The words came out with great difficulty. Rath’s whole body resisted as he uttered them, but he had to see it through. Weiss and Gennat had both told him to apologise to Böhm and it was an order he couldn’t disregard.

Böhm still hadn’t looked at him.

Gräf moved towards the door, clearly embarrassed at watching his former boss eat humble pie. Rath signalled that Gräf should give him a call.

‘Where are you going?’ Böhm barked.

Gräf gave a start. ‘I thought…’

‘Don’t think, get to work.’

‘Yes, Sir.’ Gräf returned to the map on which he and Lange had circled and shaded various areas with the aid of a compass. Rath recognised Grunewald. Erika Voss was right: they were clearly looking for Krempin in the south-west.

‘Do you have anything else to say to me, Inspector?’ Böhm asked. ‘Or was that it?’

‘I apologise for the fact that I expressed myself ambiguously to a reporter so that the impression arose that I was…’

‘What language was that? Don’t make your sentences so complicated that you can’t finish them.’

Böhm looked at him for the first time. ‘What’s the latest with the Wessel file? Is your report finished?’

So Böhm knew. ‘Detective Gräf is composing the report on the Wessel funeral. I assigned the task to him and…’

‘You disregarded my orders.’

‘In no way did I disregard your orders, Sir. I did, however, assign Detective Gräf to carry them out.’

‘Herr Rath, if you are ever to become a proper member of this department, then you must stop shirking your responsibilities.’ Rath sensed it would be wise to remain silent. ‘That means,’ Böhm continued, ‘carrying out the orders you have been issued. Personally. It also means ensuring that your colleagues and superiors have as much information as you do – and the press.’

Rath swallowed his anger. The bulldog was using the opportunity to humiliate him, deliberately ignoring his outstretched hand.

‘Do I make myself clear?’

‘Yes, Sir! It’s just… the Winter case…’

‘Concentrate on the Wessel case. It’s not my fault you didn’t attend the funeral. Detective Gräf won’t be able to write any reports for the time being – so you’ll just have to wait.’