Фолькер Кучер - Babylon Berlin

They were coming! He could already see them from afar. Johann Marlow knew where the best vantage point was, up here under the roof, by the narrow skylights where he usually posted his guards. From here you had a view of the entire station, without being seen yourself.

The young police photographer next to him began snapping before the faces of the men could even be made out. He had the easiest job today. All he had to do was take photos and make sure he wasn’t seen.

Everyone else was taking a big risk. Johann Marlow too. No-one could predict what was going to happen. The man with the second Sorokin map would come, Rath had said he would make sure of it and, true enough, there he was below. The inspector hadn’t said he’d be showing up with five companions, however. Marlow still wasn’t sure if he could trust the cop, even though he had given him the first part of the map. Bruno Wolter had been Rath’s boss once upon a time, why should he betray him now? To convict a black sheep on the force? There were a lot of black sheep at Alex; no-one knew that better than Johann Marlow. He had the feeling the police had come to terms with it. So why were they going to such great lengths with Bruno Wolter? What did Rath really want?

If it was to put one over Johann Marlow, then he wouldn’t succeed. The inspector was a coke-head; if push came to shove Marlow had him well in hand.

The men were clearly visible now. Slowly but surely making their way towards platform six, hands buried in their coat pockets. Even from up here you could see they were carrying weapons.

When the men finally reached the loading ramp, Fred emerged from the shadows below.

‘Evening,’ he said. ‘You’re entering private property. Might I ask what you’re doing here?’

The leader showed his ID. ‘CID,’ he said. ‘I’d like to speak with Herr Marlow.’

The man had to be Bruno Wolter.

‘What’s it about?’

‘I’ll discuss that with Herr Marlow in private. Please take me to him. We want to have a little look round.’

‘Sorry. I’m afraid if you don’t have a search warrant, then I must ask you to leave.’

Right on cue, the three other guards emerged from the shadow.

It looked as if the cop below had turned away in resignation, only for him to draw his weapon and hold it to Fred’s forehead.

‘I’m the police, and you’d better do as I say,’ he said.

Marlow saw that his men could be relied upon. The other three had likewise drawn their weapons and aimed them at Wolter and his companions. It would only take one of the men to get nervous, and this would descend into a murderous shoot-out.

Fred remained calm. ‘You’re trespassing on private property, Inspector,’ he said. ‘If you shoot me, my men will be forced to act in self-defence.’

‘That’s Detective Chief Inspector! Tell your goons to put down their weapons. Then send one of them to Marlow.’

‘I fear, Detective Chief Inspector, that my men don’t give a damn if you blow me away. If you do they will kill you and your companions on the spot.’

‘If they are still able to, of course!’ said a calm, friendly voice from the other side of the ramp.

Marlow swung round, just as surprised as the police photographer. Nine men had taken up position with pistols drawn. In the middle stood the man who had spoken, smiling politely.

‘Do what the DCI says,’ he continued. ‘Believe me, it’s for the best.’

‘That’s the guy from the armoury!’ said the police photographer beside him. ‘I don’t understand anything anymore.’

Marlow was growing nervous. What kind of stunt were they trying to pull? His men laid their weapons carefully on the floor of the loading ramp.

Marlow decided to put an end to this theatre and went down to join them. The train should be here in twenty minutes. He could count on Kuen-Yao. Until then the main thing was to avoid a bloodbath. He had to intervene to gain some time. When he stepped onto the ramp, all eyes turned towards him.

‘Good evening,’ he said to Wolter. ‘You wanted to speak to me?’

‘Johann Marlow?’ Wolter asked.

Marlow nodded. ‘Why are you invading my private property and threatening my men?’

‘I heard that you are expecting a goods train this evening.’

‘Looks like it. Do you think I hang around goods sheds at night for fun? What about my people? They’re just trying to go about their work, and you are preventing them from doing so. Does the commissioner know what you’re up to?’

‘I don’t think you’re the type to complain to the commissioner.’

‘Wait and see.’

‘Let’s wait for your train first! Then we’ll see what you’re having delivered.’

‘Then what?’

‘Perhaps it’s something I ought to have confiscated.’

‘Believe me, you won’t be able to haul it off on your own.’

‘We have enough people. More than you think.’

He could see his men were getting nervous. The wait was making him uneasy too, more than he cared to admit. Wolter’s left hand was in his coat pocket, playing with his ID; in his right he was still holding the pistol. Darkness was falling and there was still no sign of the train.

In the meantime they had frisked all of Marlow’s men and disarmed them. Rudi had dealt with Marlow himself – and found no weapon. That had surprised Wolter. Now Dr M. was standing alongside his men. The five of them didn’t seem chastened in the slightest.

‘Are there still people in the shed?’ Wolter asked.

‘If there were,’ Marlow said, ‘I wouldn’t have come out just now, but ordered them to shoot you.’

‘Got anything against me sending a few people in?’

‘As long as they don’t break anything.’

Wolter was getting annoyed. The whole time Marlow was talking to him as if his people had the upper hand, not the other way round.

He was just about to give his men a sign when he was interrupted. There were two brownshirts approaching from the direction of Rüdersdorfer Strasse. What the hell was going on? Who had sent for the SA? In full uniform at that? Stupid fools!

Wolter recognised Heinrich Röllecke, marching purposefully towards them. Alongside him was Hermann Schäffner, the caretaker from Luisenufer, with a black leather bag.

Wolter gazed at the uniformed soldiers. When they had reached the ramp, the Sturmhauptführer stretched a hand out towards him. At least he didn’t give the Hitler salute!

‘Everything ready as arranged,’ Röllecke said.

Wolter had no idea what was going on. ‘What’s the big idea?’ he asked. ‘Did Seegers request you as back-up? Not necessary! I have enough people here!’

‘What do you mean, Seegers? You sent your man to me yourself. We just want our share. The truck’s waiting in Rüdersdorfer Strasse.’

‘What man? What are you talking about?’

‘I’ve got the money with me anyway. I hope you have the weapons.’

‘They should be here any moment.’

‘Are they Reds?’ Röllecke gestured towards Marlow and his men, who were standing huddled in a corner.

‘They belong to Red Hugo, but that’s about the only red thing about them.’

Dusk was encroaching ever more on the evening. At a distance, three lights emerged from the semi-darkness and grew gradually brighter. Everyone stared at the triangle as if spellbound. A locomotive was shunting two sealed goods wagons onto the platform. They approached, squealing and rumbling, moving ever slower until the buffers of the front wagon almost bumped into a tank car, and came to a halt. The locomotive hissed, rooted to the spot like a phantom train. No-one on the loading ramp uttered a word.

Wolter ended the silence.

‘That’s the consignment,’ he said to Röllecke. ‘Where’s the money?’