Фолькер Кучер - The Silent Death

‘Next time I’ll get a bottle.’

The first act had already started by the time they returned to their seats. A man in a turban speaking in Saxon dialect was telling people how old they were and what job they had despite having his eyes blindfolded, while his assistant moved around the stalls holding up the identity papers of their victims. The Saxon fakir was taking his bow when there was a polite knock and two friendly waiters wheeled in a large trolley. Charly’s eyes widened in delight as they laid out the spoils: half a dozen bowls and plates, and a bottle of champagne enthroned, centre stage, in a cooler.

‘So that’s what you were discussing. And there was I thinking a glass of champagne was all I’d be getting.’

Praise be to Marlow, Rath thought. ‘I hope it’s to your liking.’

Marlow’s errand boy had put together a nice mix, just the thing for a cosy evening alone with a hungry woman. There were lovingly prepared canapés, roast beef, smoked salmon, a cheese plate, devilled eggs and even a little caviar.

Charly really did seem to be hungry, loading her plate in a most unladylike manner. Rath was a little more restrained, though pleased at her appetite. He had just poured them another glass of champagne when there was a second knock. The man in the grey suit poked his head around the door. ‘Everything to your satisfaction?’

‘Yes, thank you,’ Rath said, and Charly nodded with her mouth full.

The man leaned towards Rath and whispered: ‘Herr Marlow will see you now.’ Given the orchestra in the background, there was no chance Charly could’ve picked up the name.

‘Telephone,’ Rath said, apologetically. ‘The Castle. You know how it is.’

‘Well, let’s hope it’s not an operation.’

‘Statistically speaking, A Division’s death quota has already been achieved this week.’

Rath followed the suit downstairs. A single patron sat at the deserted bar, a powerful yet lithe-seeming man in an elegant dinner jacket who had just lit a cigar and was sipping occasionally at his whisky, gazing absently into the mirror in front of him. Still, Rath was certain nothing in this room escaped those eyes. Johann Marlow hadn’t even brought his Chinese shadow, so safe did he feel here. It was almost as if he took a drink at the bar most days after work. Rath sat on the stool beside him.

‘Good evening, Inspector. I hope you haven’t been too bored.’

‘I’ve been very well looked after.’ Rath took his new cigarette case from his pocket and lit an Overstolz. ‘I’m afraid I can’t leave my companion for very long; she thinks I’m taking a call from the station.’

‘We’ll be finished by the time you’ve smoked your cigarette.’

‘What have you discovered?’

‘There was a case where an actress was abducted on behalf of the competition. A man named Steger was responsible, a piece of shit from the Nordpiraten, together with a friend. They kept the poor woman hidden in a cellar for two weeks and had their fun with her. She was no good for film after that, a nervous wreck. They even made a few cuts to her face for good measure.’

‘There are some lousy bastards out there.’

‘A thing like that goes against the code of honour. The Nordpiraten ended up cancelling this Steger’s membership, even though he’s a passable safe-breaker. The pressure from the other Ringvereine was simply too great. Since then, the guy’s had to make do on his own.’

‘Doesn’t sound like he’s the one. Vivian Franck only had her vocal cords cut. Her face was intact when she was found, made up in fact. And she wasn’t raped.’

‘You’re right, it wasn’t him. My people have already paid him a little visit. If he was the one you’d have been able to take him back to Alex all nicely wrapped.’

‘Hardly. I’m here privately.’

‘Nevertheless, I’m sorry I couldn’t help you this time.’

‘You’ve helped me more than enough already.’

‘Come now, Inspector. I’m indebted to you, just as you are to me. You just don’t want to admit it. I can understand why you don’t want to be seen with me in public, but don’t worry, that’s not going to happen.’

‘That’s me reassured. You mean you won’t be visiting me tomorrow in my office?’

‘I have never once tried to tap your professional connections for my own ends…’

‘You wouldn’t get anywhere if you did.’

‘…but I live by the motto that one hand washes the other. The time will come when I ask for a favour, and you won’t turn me down.’ Marlow’s voice was suddenly cold.

‘Don’t be so sure. I certainly won’t be divulging any police secrets.’

‘Inspector, don’t pretend you don’t have any skeletons in your closet. Or should I say: encased in concrete!’

Rath felt as if Marlow had rammed his fist into his stomach. ‘I’m afraid I don’t follow.’

‘No? Allow me to be more plain.’ Marlow blew a cloud of smoke across the bar. ‘I know it was you who killed Josef Wilczek.’

Rath tried not to betray any emotion. ‘Why are you being so friendly to me if I eliminated one of your men?’

‘Luckily for you, only two people know about it, otherwise I’d have had no choice but to take action. I can’t allow someone to gun down one of my men and get away with it, even a police officer.’

‘I didn’t gun anyone down; someone’s been talking nonsense.’

‘I have something else for you. My people came across something that might be of interest. Deutsche Kraft have got their paws on a film company. It’s called Borussia and is based over at Weissensee.’

‘Thanks, but right now I’m not interested in whether a Ringverein is involved in the film industry.’

‘Oh, I think you will be,’ Marlow said sharply. ‘Pass the tip on to your colleagues. There’s bound to be something in it for you. Otherwise Kraft wouldn’t be involved.’

‘We’ll see.’ Rath took a final draw on his cigarette and stubbed it out. ‘Time to go. Thanks for your help.’

‘Anytime,’ Marlow smiled.

There was no escort for the return journey. The suit remained at the bar. As he climbed the steps, Rath could feel his body slowly relaxing.

Marlow knew.

Someone had seen how Josef Wilczek had died. Rath recalled the beer bottle shattering against the courtyard paving, and the window that had slammed shut after the shot was fired from his service weapon. In the Stralau quarter no one went to the police with information like that. They went to Johann Marlow, who knew how to make capital from it. Pass the tip on to your colleagues. That was an order, not a good turn. Dr M. wanted to pull one over on the competition.

Rath cursed the day he had met Johann Marlow. Suddenly tonight, with all its fake lustre, seemed worthless, poisoned and dirty: the box seats, the food, the champagne.

At least Charly hadn’t noticed anything. ‘Well?’ she asked. He had been away less than ten minutes.

‘Lange,’ he said. ‘Nothing important.’ The assistant detective from Hannover was the only person in A Division Charly didn’t know. ‘I had to remind him that he needn’t call me about every last thing.’

‘What do you mean, nothing important ?’ She could be damn stubborn.

‘About the duty roster.’ He waved a hand dismissively. ‘Completely unimportant. Come on, we’ve spoken too much about work already this evening.’

‘Let’s talk about us then.’

‘How about a drink first?’ he said, filling their glasses again before drinking her health.

‘With a proper toast!’ She raised her glass. ‘Let’s drink to the fact that we’ve been together for more than two hours without having a single fight.’

They managed not to fight for the rest of the evening too, but the magic had passed and Rath was no longer entirely there. While she followed what was happening onstage, clearing enjoying the box seats, he couldn’t tear his thoughts away from the conversation with Marlow. He was still in shock that someone knew, and that it was Marlow of all people.