Фолькер Кучер - Babylon Berlin

He took the cocaine and stowed it in his pocket. Now he needed it. The sleeplessness of the last few nights was beginning to take its toll. Sometimes he couldn’t tell if he was awake or dreaming. Was there really someone standing behind him? Or was it just his shadow? He had to be careful he wasn’t seeing ghosts.

Before he returned to the car, he locked himself in one of the cubicles in the station toilet. He didn’t have much experience when it came to taking cocaine. He tried to remember that night in Venuskeller , the generous Oppenberg and the nymphomaniac Vivian. Rath knew he needed a surface that was halfway flat as well as something to snort with, so he used his ID and a twenty mark note. Werner von Siemens gazed at him sternly, almost reproachfully, as Rath rolled him into a little tube. The white powder in the packet was lumpier than the stuff in Venuskeller. He cut it with the help of his Mauser until he thought it was fine enough for his nose, then laid a line out ready. He didn’t want to take too much, not knowing how strong the dose was. He stuck the paper tube in his nose and snorted the white powder up like a vacuum cleaner.

That numbness again, and then the desired effect. A wreck only moments before from extreme lack of sleep, he suddenly felt immense energy coursing through his veins. Quickly, he stowed the equipment away, splashed a little cold water on his face and proceeded through the station concourse back to the car. He could have uprooted a tree, but he felt more like cutting Bruno Wolter down to size.

Still, one thing at a time. He drove out to Steglitz.

Ahornstrasse was in a nice, middle-class district. Rath parked the Opel and rang the doorbell. It didn’t take long for someone to answer.

There was no need to ask if he was in the right place. The man in front of him was wearing a brown uniform, a black belt and the armband that was increasingly common in Berlin these days: blood-red with a black swastika framed by a white circle. Otherwise, he didn’t look especially military. More small and slight, like a bookkeeper. Rath had caught him knotting his tie.

‘Yes?’ he said.

‘Heinrich Röllecke?’

‘What can I do for you?’

Rath had a flash of inspiration. ‘I’m a friend of Bruno Wolter,’ he said.

‘Bruno? Why isn’t he here himself?’

‘Lots to do at the moment. Besides, he needs to be careful. He’s still under surveillance.’

‘The political police should be more concerned with the Red Front than making trouble for their own… Blast!’ Röllecke began knotting his tie once more. ‘Well, get to the point, man! I have to get to a meeting. The Gauleiter is speaking. Dr Goebbels doesn’t beat around the bush, so the SA need to be there on time. Before the Reds even think about kicking up a stink. I hope you understand. I’d ask you in otherwise.’

‘That’s OK. I think we can keep it brief. It’s about what happens next on Luisenufer.’

‘An infuriating business! I said from the start we should have used a German. But Bruno absolutely insisted on this Russian. Now he’s dead.’

‘At least it was a Russian that died, not a German!’

Röllecke laughed. ‘You’re right there. I like you, young man. Our country needs men like you!’

‘Selenskij’s death is being investigated as murder.’

‘Well, probably couldn’t have been avoided. A stupid mistake. Now the police are snooping around. It’ll calm down again, we just need to be a little patient.’

‘Don’t you think that Hermann Schäffner could be a problem…’

‘ Scharführer Schäffner is a reliable man. The fact that the police turned the flat upside down wasn’t his fault. Besides, they won’t find anything: he’s seen to that.’

‘If you say so.’

‘You can count on the SA, my friend! We’re no less reliable than you Stahlhelmer. It isn’t words that count but actions, and it’s time the Stahlhelm got that into their heads. Bruno’s been talking about a new consignment for weeks, yet nothing’s happened. My people are growing impatient. I’ve given them a few rusty rifles we finagled out of the Red Front. Absolute rubbish, all of it. At some point we’re going to need some decent weapons.’

‘Of course.’

‘I’m glad you see it that way too. Please inform Lieutenant Wolter that if the loyalty of nationally minded fighters isn’t to be sorely tested, it’s time to put his money where his mouth is!’

‘I’ll do that Herr Sturmhauptführer .’

‘Good. Now if you’ll excuse me, I need to get ready. My driver will be here in a moment.’

Rath was unable to say goodbye, as Röllecke had already slammed the door.

The vain, self-righteous squirt! Rath was shuddering as he returned to the car. Röllecke had bought his story without a second thought.

It was exactly as he had suspected. Bruno Wolter and his friends in the SA had secured Selenskij the flat on Luisenufer in order to monitor the Countess. The DCI with the affable face was an arms dealer. An arms dealer who would stop at nothing.

He had to take him to task. He wanted to hear it from him. The truth, or the lie. Bruno would have to look him in the face.

He couldn’t say what he was hoping to achieve; he only knew that he had no choice. He had to show Wolter there was someone who had seen right through him and his shady deals.

Rath felt his heart beat faster as he turned into Friedenau from Rheinstrasse.

The man was at home. E Division had finished early for the evening. Rath parked directly behind the black Ford. He rang but no-one answered. As he listened to the echo of the doorbell, he became aware of a rattling, clunking noise and gazed round the corner into the garden where they had sat during Whitsun. The garden furniture was still outside, and Uncle was trudging up and down the lawn wearing loose work slacks, a sleeveless vest and a broad-brimmed old hat as he pushed the mower back and forth. A regular citizen going about his evening tasks, it was scarcely credible that this man was a cold-blooded killer. Rath went behind the house.

Bruno only saw him when he reached the lawn. He left the reel mower where it was and took a few steps towards Rath, wiping his sweaty hands on his vest.

‘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.’