Фолькер Кучер - The Silent Death

‘Franck was already dead while Winter was still romping around her film sets.’

‘Hmm. The other way around then?’

‘Oppenberg only heard today that his actress was dead. He reckons Bellmann’s behind it. I think the two of them are good at making accusations against one another and creating suspicion.’

Rath hung up, gazing at the black telephone for a long time before picking up the receiver again. He had been putting off making this call, but it had to be today. Now it was officially his case, why shouldn’t he make use of a few unofficial channels? He hadn’t dialled the number that wasn’t in any telephone book for a long time. One ring was all it took.

‘Yes,’ said a deep voice.

Rath had never heard the man say a word, but felt almost certain he was speaking to Marlow’s Chinaman.

‘Rath here,’ he said, before clearing his throat. ‘I need to speak to Herr Marlow.’

‘He’s busy. What’s it about?’

‘I can only discuss that with Herr Marlow himself.’

‘Give me your number. We’ll call back.’

It really was as easy as that. Rath was astonished, thinking back to the first time he had tried to make contact with Berlin’s craftiest gangster. He placed the telephone on the living room table and stood up to turn the record: Coleman Hawkins. The telephone rang before the piece was over.

‘That was quick!’

A cough. ‘Inspector Rath?’

That wasn’t Marlow!

The music had ceased, and the needle kept striking the end of the groove, making a crackling sound. All of a sudden, Rath was wide awake. ‘Herr Krempin? Good of you to call. Have you thought about what I said?’

‘If you’re asking me to hand myself in, then I’m hanging up.’ Clearly he had seen the headlines.

‘ You called me ,’ Rath said. ‘I’m just wondering why.’

‘Because I wanted to speak to you.’

‘Why me? I’m one of the people chasing you.’

‘But the only one who doesn’t think I’m a killer.’

It sounded as if Oppenberg had spoken to him. ‘It’s good to know you trust me but, as a police officer, I can only advise that you give yourself up. Tell us what you know, and the truth will come out.’

Krempin laughed bitterly down the line. ‘I don’t think you’re quite as naïve as you sound, Inspector. If I come to the station, they’ll pounce on me: the press, the whole public. Do you seriously think the police can still conduct an impartial investigation? They’re not even doing it now! They’re hunting me, and that’s all.’

‘And you mean to confide in one of your pursuers?’

‘I want you to know what happened in the studio the day Betty Winter died. Then you’ll know that I don’t have her on my conscience.’

‘Then tell your story, perhaps it will help me after all.’

‘Not on the telephone. We have to meet.’

‘Aren’t you worried that I’ll have our meeting point surrounded by a hundred officers?’

‘If you do that you’ll never hear from me again. You won’t get me that easily.’

‘I’m not about to give you up. But what do you suppose is going to happen? You tell me your version of events and everything will be well and good?’

‘You’ll find Betty’s killer, and people will stop hunting me.’

‘I’m honoured by your trust but what if I don’t? How long are you planning to hide then? I can’t help you on my own. It would be good if someone else…’

‘You’re the only officer I’ll speak to.’

‘I’m talking about a journalist.’

Rath thought he might hang up. ‘You’re not serious,’ he said.

‘You can only fight public opinion with published opinion. I’m friends with a newspaper reporter who will listen to you. He’s one hundred percent reliable. Then it’ll be your version of events in the paper. How does that sound?’

This time the silence lasted a little longer. ‘If you try and pull a fast one, this is the last time we speak.’

‘Don’t worry, I won’t risk it.’ Rath took a pencil from his jacket and rummaged for a piece of paper. ‘So, where do you want to meet? An isolated clearing in Tegel Forest, no doubt.’

‘Not a clearing. The Funkturm. In the restaurant. Bring your journalist, but no one else. Tomorrow at one.’

‘I’ll be there,’ Rath said. ‘How will I recognise you? I’m sure you look different from your mugshots.’

‘I’ll recognise you. Just make sure you’re on time.’

The sound didn’t surprise him; he had set his alarm for earlier than usual. But it wasn’t his alarm, it was the telephone! Rath switched on the light and glanced at the time: just before five. He rolled out of bed and walked barefoot across the cold floor into the living room. The telephone rang stubbornly. It could only be the Castle. Please, he thought, not another corpse.

‘Rath,’ he said, trying to sound awake, ready for Böhm’s voice, or some colleague on standby duty.

‘The boss can speak to you now,’ said a deep, sonorous voice. Marlow’s Chinaman.

Rath was immediately awake. ‘Thank you,’ he mumbled.

‘Inspector!’ Rath recognised the voice of Johann Marlow despite not having heard it in over a year. ‘Long time, no see. Except for in the papers, of course. Good that you haven’t forgotten an old friend.’

‘Let’s say business associate. Nice of you to call back. I had forgotten that you don’t go to bed until this time.’

Marlow laughed. ‘You’re right, I was just finishing when I saw you on my call list. Now I’m curious as to why you’re back in touch after such a long time.’

‘I have a favour to ask.’

‘Anytime. I have already offered you a small token of my appreciation, but I realise that I am still in your debt.’

The five thousand marks in a brown envelope, which Rath had found in his mailbox last September. He had guessed where the money was from, but spent it all the same. What else was he supposed to do? Drive out east and stuff it back in Marlow’s jacket pocket?

‘It concerns Vivian Franck,’ Rath said, outlining the case before telling Marlow what hadn’t been in the paper, above all the suspicion that someone from the underworld might have kidnapped and tortured the actress on somebody else’s behalf. The removal of the vocal cords as a message to Oppenberg: we have destroyed your great sound film hope.

‘You want me to ask around, see if anyone has been doing these vile things in exchange for cash?’ Marlow asked.

‘If that someone also has a key to the Luxor Cinema in Wilmersdorf, then we have a firm lead.’

‘I know a few people who’ll open just about any door for you without having the right key; but no one who’d take out someone’s vocal cords. For your sake, I’ll look into it. Can we meet tomorrow evening?’

‘I have a date.’

‘Come to the Plaza, I’ll get you tickets. Surely your companion will be able to spare you for five minutes. Half past nine, in the foyer, during the interval.’

After speaking to Marlow he hadn’t gone back to bed, but taken breakfast and set off. It was still dark enough for headlights, and it was a long drive out to Westhafen. Although he wasn’t happy to be back in touch with the gangster boss, Marlow was the best person to ask for information about the underworld. He had links to several of the Ringvereine, and was just as well, if not better, connected to the most important divisions at police headquarters.

Passing through Moabit, Rath stopped in Spenerstrasse again. On the other side of the road, behind the windows of her flat, a light was already on. She was probably having breakfast with Greta. With Greta rather than somebody else, he hoped. His heart was devoured by a jealousy so strong he had to light a cigarette to calm himself before continuing on his way. Ten minutes later he was rolling across Westhafenstrasse towards the harbour.