Фолькер Кучер - Goldstein

Though they didn’t let her sleep and seldom gave her anything to eat or drink, they didn’t lay a finger on her. No one would believe what these men had visited upon her, indeed that they had visited anything upon her at all. It was a kind of violence that left no trace.

Arresting Goldstein proved easier than anticipated. The anti-riot police had expected a Chicago style shoot-out, something with machine guns, or at the very least smoking Colts, but nothing of the sort had occurred. Not a single shot had been fired in anger.

Böhm repeated his instructions, Rath heard a clink (it later transpired that one of the uniform cops in the adjacent plot had knocked over a garden gnome in his nervousness) and Goldstein had emerged.

‘Keep your hands where we can see them, Herr Goldstein,’ Böhm bellowed through the megaphone.

‘Gold-sstiehn,’ the Yank said, and Rath almost let out a yelp of joy. It had worked. ‘My name is Gold-sstiehn,’ he continued. ‘I’m an American citizen and I think there has been a misunderstanding.’

‘Herr… Gold-sstiehn, I am arresting you on suspicion of the murders of Jochen Kuschke, Gerhard Kubicki, Hugo Lenz, Rudolf Höller and Eberhard Kallweit.’

‘Then tell your men to come out and cuff me. My arms are going to sleep here.’

‘That’s all you have to say?’ The surprise in Böhm’s voice was plain.

‘And that I’m innocent, of course.’

Tornow and Rath listened spellbound to the exchange.

It took a while to escort the gangster out of the allotments and for calm to be restored. First came CID and the uniform cops who had made sure that no innocent gardeners ventured into the line of fire, then the officers who surrounded Goldstein’s hideout. Lastly, the pair shepherding the Yank between them.

Goldstein had his hands cuffed behind his back and seemed more or less unperturbed until he saw Rath, and possibly Tornow, although he ignored the latter. At the sight of Rath, his expression darkened, displaying first anger then outright contempt. He didn’t say anything but, as he was led past, he spat onto the asphalt in front of the inspector. The two anti-riot policemen he was sandwiched between pulled him away and bundled him into the murder wagon. Clearly, Gennat wanted to speak with him on the journey back. Then came the man himself, Ernst Gennat, together with Böhm, who held the megaphone like a Teuton emerging victorious from battle.

‘Good work,’ Buddha said and clapped Rath on the shoulder. ‘That goes for you too.’

He was referring to Tornow, whom Gennat now accorded a paternal glance.

The cadet looked a little confused.

‘And now?’ Rath when they were alone again, strolling towards the Opel.

‘And now what ?’

‘We had an agreement. Goldstein has been arrested on five counts of murder. Now it’s your turn.’

‘Just be patient a little longer. First we need to go to Alex, then I’ll head home where I can use the telephone, and set things in motion.’

‘Where can I pick her up?’

‘How stupid do you think we are?’ Tornow shook his head. ‘All that’s left is to wait.’

American gangster Abraham Goldstein was tracked down and arrested today as part of a major police operation. Rumour has it that Goldstein, who was hiding out in an allotment in southwest Berlin, attempted to escape before being overpowered by courageous German officers. The American gangster is alleged to have killed several people in Berlin, including a police officer, an SA man and a second-hand dealer. He is also accused of the murder of two major underworld figures in the city. Homicide Division Chief Ernst Gennat explained to Tag that the evidence was ‘overwhelming.’ Also playing a significant role in the successful police measure: Detective Inspector Gereon Rath. ‘It was Inspector Rath who managed to locate Goldstein’s hideout,’ Gennat confirmed.

Most evening editions carried the story so that, tomorrow, a significant number of people would know Goldstein was in police hands. Sadly, it was only Der Tag that alluded to Detective Inspector Gereon Rath’s rehabilitation. Had Weinert not been aboard the Zeppelin, it might have appeared in Tageblatt too. Even so, a single mention was enough. Gennat owed him a debt of gratitude, Bernhard Weiss even more so.

Tornow had advised him to be patient, but Rath hadn’t slept a wink. He had headed with Kirie to Spenerstrasse, even started clearing away the chaos in Charly’s flat. He had changed the sheets on the bed, in the process feeling a little like his mother, who had gone to similar lengths whenever little Gereon had returned after the summer vacation. She even used to bake a cake for the homecoming son. Admittedly he hadn’t done that for Charly, though he had put fresh flowers in a vase. He looked around. The flat felt almost habitable again. He hadn’t sorted the papers, of course, as he didn’t want to go snooping through her things, but he had returned the books and everything else to their rightful places.

Finally, he sat at the table with a bottle of cognac and a glass, thinking about her. Had they released her yet? Was Tornow deliberately keeping him in suspense, or did he have to speak to his accomplices? So many questions were swirling around his mind, the uncertainty made him crazy. The only thing he knew for sure was that he was going to need a whole lot of cognac to get any sleep. He savoured the first gulp, then drained the rest of the glass as though it were schnapps – in the end, this wasn’t about enjoyment or etiquette.

Kirie had curled herself up and was looking at him out of sleepy eyes.

‘Cheers, Kirie,’ he said, raising a second glass.

After drinking half the bottle, he fell asleep, to awake from tangled dreams, his right cheekbone aching from being pressed against the hard wood of the table. For a moment, he forgot where he was, then remembered, sitting up with a jolt that started Kirie out of her light doggy-sleep.

The kitchen clock showed four minutes to six. Rath stood up. The bed was empty, of course. Be patient, Tornow had advised, all that’s left is to wait .

Rath had waited long enough. He had to do something. After a lick and a promise, a quick shave, a cup of black coffee, a final cognac and two cigarettes, he grabbed his hat and car keys and set off.

Traffic was still light, so he made it from Moabit to Leuthener Strasse in quick time. In Tornow’s attic flat, the lights were already on and the day seemed to be proceeding as normal. At this hour, that meant: Police - cadet Sebastian Tornow prepares for duty.

Rath left Kirie in the car and climbed the steps to the top floor. Tornow was knotting his tie as he opened but, apart from that, looked as spruce as ever.

‘You?’ he said, not particularly surprised, and stepped to one side as Rath pushed past him into the flat. Tornow closed the door, stood in front of the wardrobe mirror and continued knotting his tie. Rath slammed the paper he had purchased en route on the wardrobe. The Vossische Zeitung , already open at the page.

‘What am I supposed to do with that?’ Tornow asked, finishing his tie knot. It was perfect.

‘It states that a certain Abraham Goldstein was arrested yesterday by police and charged with several murders,’ Rath said.

‘I was there, in case you had forgotten.’

‘I was starting to think I had imagined it. What’s happening with your end of the bargain? Where’s Charly?’

‘Not here, if that’s what you thought.’ He smiled, but by now all Rath could see was a provocative sneer.