Фолькер Кучер - Goldstein

Rath leafed through the images, grinning when he found one of particular interest. He held it against the light and stowed it in his pocket. It wasn’t as good a picture of Marion as the others, but in the background was a large wardrobe – with mirrored doors.

They were in Tietz again; it had proved to be a good meeting point. This time Lange had invited her for breakfast. Cutting an unhappy figure, he seemed to have slept badly. A copy of the Berliner Tageblatt lay before him on the table next to a cup of coffee.

‘In case you haven’t had breakfast, it’s on me,’ he said, and waved the waiter over. They had the restaurant almost to themselves.

‘Thank you, that’s not necessary.’ Charly ordered tea with lemon and pointed towards the paper. ‘Heard anything from our witness?’

Lange shook his head. ‘Still no response to our appeal. Six papers carried the story this morning, with his picture.’

‘It’s a pretty generic face.’

‘You’re telling me.’ Lange looked sceptical. ‘Yesterday I tried to trace the person who took the emergency call. So far, no luck.’

‘You think our witness called the ambulance?’

Lange nodded. ‘Perhaps he gave his name. If he isn’t just a ghost, that is.’

‘That would mean Alex invented him. I don’t believe that.’

‘If she doesn’t want to turn herself in, the obvious solution is to invent a witness.’

‘She might be a criminal, but I think she’s telling the truth.’

‘Which leads us to our next topic,’ Lange sighed. ‘Alexandra Reinhold is a criminal. If it gets out that we’re using her for information, only to turn her loose, it’ll be curtains. For both of us. Your career will be over before it’s even begun.’

Charly took a cigarette from the carton. ‘May I?’ she asked.

‘Please do. A few weeks ago watches and jewellery worth several thousand Reichsmark were stolen from right here, from Tietz.’ Lange gestured towards the floor. ‘The thieves locked themselves in the department store overnight. The same as ten days later in Karstadt. Who do you think the principal suspect is?’

‘I see you’ve got a hotline to Arthur Nebe.’

‘If Nebe knew we were shielding his main suspect!’ Lange spoke louder than he intended. He gazed around him, horrified.

‘How’s he going to find out? No one’s allowed to know anything about our agreement.’

‘So long as you realise you’re covering for a felon. That we’re covering for a felon.’

‘Listen,’ Charly said. ‘I know what Alex has done, and that she’s no angel, but she’s given us important information.’ She drew on her cigarette, almost defiantly. ‘If I give her up now, she’ll most likely be convicted and then her life really will be ruined.’

‘It makes me uneasy,’ Lange said. ‘As a police officer, I always thought I’d automatically be on the right side, but with this case I just don’t know.’

‘Sergeant Major Kuschke is a police officer with a man on his conscience, a boy in fact; a murderer who tried to kill the girl who recognised him. He shot at Alex. Is that the right side?’

‘Of course not.’ Indignation hung in Lange’s voice. ‘If I thought that, I’d have filed this case away long ago. Do you think this is making me any friends in the Castle? As for when it all goes public…’

‘I’m sorry,’ Charly said. ‘I know where you stand, but you can’t lose sight of our goal of building a watertight case against Kuschke.’

‘And turn a criminal loose in the process?’

‘Look at Alex as an informant who’s pointed you towards an important murder witness. Tip-offs like that come at a price.’

‘Informants don’t have free rein. All these department store break-ins – they’re hardly petty crimes.’

‘Forget about Alex. Use me as your informant. Pitch me as someone with links to the criminal underworld. That way it’ll be me drawing the short straw.’

‘What about Berlin’s highest-grossing department store thief?’

‘Alex is an intelligent girl who’s been through a rough time. She just needs a little help getting back on the right track. I think she can make it, but not if we take her into custody. Besides, do you really want her sitting in a cell with someone like Kuschke still at large?’

‘OK, OK, I know,’ Lange said. ‘First we need to get Kuschke so that she’s no longer in danger. If this mysterious witness doesn’t come through and we need Alex after all – will she turn herself in then?’

Charly shrugged. ‘Not as long as Kuschke remains at large.’

‘The whole thing’s a vicious circle. We need Alex to get at Kuschke, but so long as he’s still roaming free, we’ve no chance of getting Alex.’

‘That’s a knot for you to untie.’ Charly stubbed out her cigarette. ‘I’m not giving Alex up. I’ve given her my word.’

She’d never have thought herself capable of talking like this, she who had been raised to be conscientious and loyal to the state. Was Gereon’s Rhine-Catholic nonchalance rubbing off on her?

Lange still cut an unhappy figure. ‘It’ll be curtains for both of us,’ he said again, shaking his head.

‘So what if it is,’ Charly said. ‘We’ll open our own office.’ She drew an imaginary sign with her hands. ‘ Private Detectives Lange and Ritter, enquiries of all kinds . Now, doesn’t that fill you with confidence?’

Her attempt to lighten the mood misfired. Lange turned red.

‘Right,’ Charly said, packing her cigarettes back in her handbag. ‘I’ve fulfilled my side of the agreement. I’ve found Alex.’ She made a move to get up.

‘Wait a minute,’ Lange said, with surprising sharpness, and Charly sat back down. ‘Don’t forget there’s a second part. Sergeant Major Kuschke will have read the papers this morning. You still need to keep an eye on him.’

‘How long do I have to keep the man under surveillance?’ Charly sighed.

Lange smiled and tapped the paper. ‘Until this witness turns up and we can take him into custody. Or until Alex changes her mind and turns herself in. In the meantime, I’ll speak to Gennat about what concessions we can make, and see if we can’t get her sentence commuted.’

Charly stood up. Lange might go red easily but he was tough. She had understood: so long as she couldn’t persuade Alex to turn herself in, she’d have to continue her surveillance of Kuschke. A nice little incentive to see her on her way.

Rain drummed non-stop against the windowpane. The perfect weather for a funeral. Rath hadn’t slept much and had a hangover, even though he hadn’t touched a drop after his late-night visit to the Castle. Otherwise, he was in the best of spirits, despite the lousy weather and the fact that he hadn’t got anywhere with Charly. She had fobbed him off, but then, if she hadn’t, he wouldn’t have drained half a bottle of cognac, nor, most likely, would he have hit on the crackpot idea of raiding Lanke’s office.

He parted his hair with a wet comb and gazed at his reflection in the bedroom mirror, liking what he saw, dressed in black with an elegant top hat set on his head at a slight angle. It lent him a touch of gravity that he didn’t otherwise possess. Just a shame he could only dress like this on unhappy occasions.

Rath hated funerals, and police funerals above all. The last time he’d decked himself out like this was for his colleague Stephan Jänicke. He didn’t know the policeman being laid to rest this morning, but Weiss had requested that senior CID officers attend to show that the death of a uniform cop mattered.

The caretaker was cleaning out a blocked drain, but paused when he saw his tenant approach dressed all in black, with a black dog and black umbrella, and tipped his cap by way of greeting. Rath responded by briefly raising his umbrella before entering the front building to ring the ground floor flat. Annemarie Lennartz looked surprised as she surveyed him from head to toe.