Фолькер Кучер - Babylon Berlin

‘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!’

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.