Фолькер Кучер - Goldstein

Dull as it might be playing Abraham Goldstein’s minder, Rath was satisfied with his working day as he got into the Buick at Anhalter Bahnhof. Soon they’d have the Yank worn down. How must it feel to spend the whole day trapped in your hotel room? Lunch was the only meal Goldstein had left his suite for. Breakfast had been taken to his room, likewise dinner the night before. As Czerwinski had painstakingly noted: a platter of cold roast beef and a bottle of chilled champagne. The man had to console himself somehow.

The garage had done a good job; the Buick felt good as new. Marlow would expect a favour in return, but Rath would supply. His investigation for Dr M. was a hundred times more interesting than being on shift at the Excelsior. Or searching for Charly’s guttersnipe, a task that was as ridiculous as it was futile.

Those endless hours in the hotel had given him too much time to think about his quarrel with Charly. Again and again, he saw the image of her green hat as it disappeared between the S-Bahn scaffolding poles. A few times he had been on the verge of calling her; the telephone he had brought up to the desk kept urging him on. Once he even dialled the operator, only to hang up before he could give Charly’s number.

He was furious at her pig-headedness, but couldn’t stop thinking about her. At the same time he would have liked nothing more than to take her in his arms, and not just because they usually landed in bed when they made up after quarrelling. But yesterday was different, he could feel it.

He should have proposed like he planned, but the timing in the last few months had never been right. He wanted it to be special, which was why he had organised the trip to Cologne, even got hold of football tickets. Everything had been planned down to the final detail, including booking a table in the Bastei for the day after the game. After that he’d have performed his filial duty by officially introducing Charly as his fiancée, making it clear once and for all that he was determined to marry a Protestant. Then he’d have disappeared back to Berlin and finally been rid of his parents and their advice.

The Bastei was one of the classiest restaurants in the city, a generously proportioned, modern build with spectacular views of the cathedral and the Rhine. The waiter had been in on it: rings in the champagne. But then they had run into his mother. How could he forget that she shopped at Leonhard Tietz every Monday?

They had gone out to eat that night as planned. The table was booked, but the timing wasn’t right. He managed to catch the waiter at the last moment, and had the rings taken out of the glasses. They were now hidden in his living room cabinet, waiting to be deployed again.

He cursed his indecision. He should have asked her long ago, or left it once and for all.

Should he really propose to a woman whose career was evidently more important to her than marriage and children? Rath no longer knew what was right and what was wrong. Sometimes he wished he belonged to his parents’ generation; things were easier for them. Or, at least, so he thought.

He had been engaged before, but Doris had dropped him after he hit the headlines following the shoot-out in Cologne’s Agnesviertel. At best, their marriage would have resembled that of his parents, and that was something he could do without.

He wanted Charly and no one else. So, why hadn’t he told her that long ago?

‘Damn it!’ he shouted, and Kirie, who had been dozing peacefully on the passenger seat, woke with a start and stared at him.

He wanted her , damn it! Why shouldn’t he just tell her, right now? Then she could decide one way or another. There was no other way, no more waiting, no more half measures. He needed to know! He would accept her answer, whichever way it came out. He couldn’t bear the uncertainty anymore. It was now or never.

He felt a sudden surge of optimism, like a suicide candidate who, at long last, had summoned the courage to enter the lift at the Funkturm in preparation for one final jump.

Essaying a U-turn under the steel bars of the elevated train, he drove the Buick back up Stresemannstrasse, past the Excelsior , heading further and further north until finally he reached Moabit.

Arriving at Spenerstrasse, he sat in the car for a moment. Should he get out or not? Give in to impulse or come to his senses? He tapped a cigarette out of the case, and Kirie looked on in surprise. Why was no one getting out of the car?

She hadn’t expected his advice to be so clear, but his clarity did her good; the whole conversation did her good. She should have called him ages ago; the only reason she hadn’t was Gereon’s stupid jealousy. Guido’s presence was like a red rag to a bull. Well, so what? Whose problem was that? Not hers anyway.

Now Guido, with whom she had studied – and suffered – together for most of her university years, was back in her kitchen, and it was just like old times, like when he advised her to resit the state examination. She couldn’t have wished for a better guide when it came to her dilemma. Court Assessor Guido Scherer was a man who knew a thing or two about making a career in law.

‘You have to take up Heymann’s offer,’ he said. ‘Do you know what an honour that is?’

‘Of course I do, but what good is it?’

‘You’d have a name in the academic world.’

‘I don’t want a name in the academic world. I want more justice in this one.’

Guido smiled. He smiled often. That was another thing Gereon hated about him, but he had never been able to stand her old classmate anyway. She had explained to him countless times that he had no cause for jealousy, but he never seemed to believe her.

‘He’s still pursuing you, you realise that?’

‘Don’t exaggerate. He knows he won’t get anywhere with me, and he’s fine with that.’

‘But the way he looks at you, like… like… And that stupid grin!’

‘Oh, cut it out with your jealousy, and stop trying to dictate who I see!’

Gereon had eased back on his criticism, but somehow she met Guido less often.

Suddenly Charly was furious again. Gereon had succeeded in putting her off one of her best friends. It was only now, more than a year since she last saw him, as they spoke about the law and everything else under the sun, that she realised how much she had missed these conversations. Conversations that weren’t possible with Gereon Rath were exactly what she needed now, after her trouble at Lichtenberg. It did her good to speak with someone who knew about these things; who valued her ability when it came to questions of the law. Despite everything, with Gereon, she still wasn’t sure.

‘Another drop?’

Guido nodded and Charly poured a little more of the red wine she had intended to share with Gereon. So that they could discuss the same subject: Heymann’s offer.

She stood up. ‘If you’ll excuse me. I have to go to the little girls’ room.’

Charly disappeared and, just as her guest raised the glass to his mouth, the doorbell rang.

Rath unwrapped the flowers nervously. His brio on the journey, his determination, his certainty that he was doing the right thing, all shrivelled as he stood in front of the door. On the street he had needed to take a little walk to calm himself down, and had bought a bunch of roses before returning to her flat. Kirie, who was used to going straight into the drawing room from the car, looked at her master patiently, knowing that humans are fickle.

She wagged her tail; she must be able to smell Charly already. Even so, there was nothing doing in her flat. Rath rang a second time. He was starting to think he had made the trip for nothing, that she must be back in Friedrichshain, at the Müggelsee or somewhere else looking for the escaped girl, when he heard steps. His heart pounded, they were going to make up, he knew it, but whether she would accept his proposal… he wasn’t at all sure. He’d need more than simple charm. Damn it, he thought, you have to see this through. Do it right, or not at all!