Фолькер Кучер - Goldstein

‘What did you say?’ Charly asked, looking at him through eyes which seemed strangely different. The whole situation felt unreal.

‘Nothing important,’ he said, giving her a quick peck on the cheek. She hadn’t heard, perhaps that was a good sign. ‘So!’ he adopted a confident smile. ‘Safe trip. I’ll call you tomorrow in the hotel.’

She nodded, but looked straight through him, as if she hadn’t processed what he said. ‘Oh, look, there’s Guido,’ she said and waved over Rath’s shoulder. ‘How nice of him.’

Guido, the grinning man? Rath looked around. Him as well! Time to leave, before her friend Greta showed up too.

He embraced her so tight it was as if, for a fraction of a second, he never wanted to let go, and kissed her. She didn’t reciprocate, probably because Guido was already close by. Rath looked at her for a final time, her face, her eyes, and turned around. He couldn’t bear it, couldn’t bear to stand here with Guido to wave her off. Greta, too, had always despised him. Charly must see that! He had pictured their goodbye differently. He didn’t know how, exactly, just differently. The lump in his throat grew larger.

He met Guido with a mumbled greeting, and proceeded towards the milling mass in the station concourse, not wanting to turn around in case he triggered some catastrophe, like Orpheus or Lot’s wife.

Passing through the platform barriers he gave in and, though he didn’t turn into a pillar of salt, and Charly didn’t glide off, never to be seen again, part of him felt as if they had parted for good. She didn’t even gaze after him. Instead she chatted animatedly with Guido, who gave her a friendly hug and handed her a package, a book most likely, for the long journey. All of which reminded Gereon that he hadn’t got her anything. Whatever, he had no idea about books, and you didn’t give someone flowers at a train station…

He could no longer stand and watch.

‘Come on, Kirie,’ he said, jostling his way through the mass of people without really noticing them.

In the initial weeks following Charly’s abduction he had felt close to her like never before. At the same time, her imminent departure had cast a cloud over everything. She would be in Paris for six months, and they hadn’t even discussed seeing each other in that time. He didn’t know what to make of it, only that he would have wished it otherwise.

Already he missed her, and debated whether he shouldn’t wave her goodbye after all, but soon the thought of Guido, of Greta and Professor Heymann, and whoever else might show up, quashed the impulse. You arsehole! he thought, stop being so goddamn sentimental.

He drove back to Luisenufer and took a stroll with Kirie through the park, before going up to his flat. Inside, he didn’t know what to do. It wasn’t quiet enough to listen to music. He telephoned Gräf, but he wasn’t home. Weinert had sent his apologies again. He seemed to be at a different reception every night, moving in circles to which Rath would never gain access. Since his return, Weinert’s interest in police matters had noticeably waned.

Rath felt left out and, for a moment, considered stumping up for a distance call to his friend Paul, if only to hear that familiar, sing-song Cologne accent. Stupid idea, he thought, and placed the receiver back on the cradle.

He sat at the kitchen table and stared at the bottle of cognac. It stared back, but he remained steadfast. Not a drop! Instead he lit a cigarette. Kirie looked at him, her head tilted to one side.

‘We’re just going to have to get used to being on our own again,’ he told her.

The telephone rang. It was Gennat.

‘What’s happened?’

‘It’s Tornow,’ Buddha said.

‘Has he finally talked?’

Sebastian Tornow had been in hospital for eight weeks, but hadn’t spilled. On one occasion even Rath had tried, but all he received were hate-filled looks. His organisation had collapsed around him, but still he remained silent, as if protecting someone. Legally speaking, what he had told Rath on the gasometer was worthless.

‘That would be a thing,’ Gennat said. ‘No. I’m afraid we won’t have the chance to make him talk any time soon.’

‘What’s happened? Has he…’

In the first few days Sebastian Tornow had almost died of blood poisoning.

‘No, he’s alive, I’m afraid.’ It was rare to hear a sentence like that from Ernst Gennat’s lips. ‘It looks as if he’s escaped. He must have had help.’

‘How is that possible? Wasn’t he being guarded?’

‘He was in a hospital, not a cell.’

‘Isn’t he helpless with just one arm?’

‘The sister tells me he’s become quite skilful at getting things done.’

‘How did he make it past the guards?’

‘He didn’t have to. The two men have vanished as well.’

‘From Die Weisse Hand ?’

‘That’s what we suspect.’

‘Now what?’

‘We’ve put out an appeal. No leads so far. We suspect that he means to go abroad, and are monitoring all border checkpoints. The alternative is…’ Gennat hesitated.

‘The alternative is that he’s after me. Is that what you were about to say?’

‘He has reason enough to want revenge.’

‘Luckily I’ve got company tonight, that I don’t think he’d dare go near.’

‘Sounds like you’re having dinner with Hindenburg.’

‘Even better,’ Rath said. ‘I have to say goodbye to someone.’

‘I can guess who you mean.’

‘On Dr Weiss’s orders. Besides, Abraham Goldstein isn’t as bad as his reputation suggests. So long as he doesn’t shoot you.’

‘Then make sure you don’t get shot. And see to it that the man actually catches his train. He’s been here long enough.’

‘Twelve weeks to be exact, but only one at the state’s cost. He’s made a real effort to support the local tourism industry.’

‘Maybe you should too,’ Gennat said. ‘I hope we’ll know more about Tornow’s whereabouts by next week.’

‘Gladly, if the Free State of Prussia is footing the bill.’

‘I doubt it will stretch to a suite in the Adlon . Or the Excelsior for that matter.’

‘Shame. A room’s just become free there.’

Rath took Gennat up on his suggestion. He packed a few things and some cash, dropped the dog off with the Lennartzes, and headed west. He’d had enough of the Excelsior for now.

The hotels in Charlottenburg weren’t the cheapest but he could lay out a little extra from his own pocket. The Savoy in Fasanenstrasse was one of the most modern hotels in the city, and was located beside Kantstrasse and the Ku’damm. He took a single room for two nights and went upstairs to freshen up. When he emerged from the shower he felt rejuvenated. Perhaps not like a new man, exactly, but it was better than waking from a bad dream. In fact, it felt something like his arrival in Berlin, when he had also spent the first few nights in a hotel. Now, as then, he was alone. Perhaps he would throw himself into the city’s nightlife, since neither Weinert nor Gräf had any time for him.

From his window he looked straight onto Delphi , a dance hall in Kantstrasse which he had previously visited on duty. There were other places too. He was spoilt for choice. He opened the window, breathed in the Charlottenburg air and suddenly felt completely free.

Dusk was falling as he stepped onto the street. A number of people had gathered outside the synagogue. It seemed to be some sort of Jewish feast day, though he hadn’t any idea which.

Caf é Reimann wasn’t known as a dance hall, but there was a band playing, and Abraham Goldstein held court as if he owned the place. He stood up when he saw Rath and stretched out a hand.