Фолькер Кучер - Goldstein

Rath had no sympathy, now, for his successor. He’d never been able to stand the man. The question was, what was Lanke so afraid of that he’d rather see Rath destroy his police career than blab? When it came out that Lanke junior was consorting with prostitutes doubling as Vice informants, his career would be over. Not even Uncle Werner would be able to prevent that.

Rath stepped onto the road and moved towards his car when, at that moment, he saw a man with a shopping bag. ‘Hello,’ he cried across the street, ‘taking care of the weekend shop, are you?’ Sebastian Tornow looked at him wide-eyed.

‘What are you doing here?’ he asked.

‘I was about to ask you the same thing.’

‘I always do my shopping here. I live just around the corner, on Leuthener Strasse.’

‘A coincidence then.’

‘And yourself?’

‘I was visiting an ex-colleague. Assistant Detective Lanke.’

‘Lanke! I didn’t know you were in Vice.’

‘You know Gregor Lanke?’

Tornow laughed. ‘Everybody knows everybody around here. You run into people all the time, even while you’re out shopping.’ He gestured towards the bottles clinking in his bag. ‘How about a quick beer at mine? We can usher in the weekend?’

Normally, Rath would turn him down without thinking, but this time it didn’t seem like such a bad idea. ‘Why not?’ he said.

Tornow didn’t live in the same comfort as Lanke. His apartment was furnished, with a live-in landlady. Rath was reminded of his first Berlin flat on Nürnberger Strasse. True, Tornow was slightly better off, with two rooms: one for sleeping, and another for eating and working, albeit both had a sloping ceiling. There was a small dining table with four chairs, an armchair and a small sofa. On the desk by the window stood a typewriter and telephone along with a few framed photographs. Rath’s gaze fell on the aquarium next to the sofa.

‘You have fish,’ he said, surprised. An aquarium didn’t fit his image of Sebastian Tornow.

‘A man needs a hobby,’ Tornow grinned. ‘Ladies are strictly forbidden at Frau Hollerbach’s.’

‘Sounds familiar, which is why I found another flat. True, it might be a little more expensive, and it’s in a rear building, but I’m my own master. Frau Lennartz comes to clean, otherwise I could have a hundred women over without anyone taking any notice.’

‘Apart from Vice perhaps,’ Tornow said.

He took two beers from the bag and placed them on the table, clearing the rest of his shopping into the cupboard. The men flipped the lids open and clinked bottles.

‘Thanks,’ Rath said. ‘This reminds me that I haven’t made good on my promise to buy you a beer.’

‘There’ll be plenty of opportunities. Perhaps I’ll get to know the legendary Nasse Dreieck that Reinhold’s been telling me about.’

‘He has, has he?’ The Dreieck by Wassertorplatz was Rath’s local, where he ended long working days with Gräf. ‘I wanted to wait until I bought you that beer,’ he said, ‘but since we’re here now…’ He stretched out a hand. ‘It’s time we called each other by our first names. I’m Gereon.’

Tornow shook. ‘Sebastian.’

They clinked bottles for a second time. Rath pointed out of the dormer window, at the imposing figure of the Schöneberg gasometer towering above the roofs of the Sedanviertel. ‘Nice view you’ve got here,’ he said.

‘Can I tell you something?’ Tornow said. ‘Every now and then I do something illegal. Pretty often, actually. Almost every week.’

‘You’re a serial killer?’

‘No,’ Tornow said ‘From up there, you get the best view the city has to offer.’

Rath put his bottle down. ‘You climb up there ?’

‘It’s where I think best, when it all gets too much for me down here.’

Rath would sometimes climb to Liebig’s dovecote when he needed peace and quiet.

‘The gasometer’s like an animal,’ Tornow continued. ‘It breathes. Every night the bell falls, and every morning it rises again. There’s something comforting about that.’

Rath gestured with his beer bottle towards the enormous steel framework. The gas holder had risen almost to its full height. ‘How do you get up?’

‘There are steel steps. Do you see the rings up there in the framework? They’re for maintenance workers, but anyone can climb them and see the whole city from the top.’

‘And that’s illegal?’

‘No entry for unauthorised persons, it says on the signs.’

‘Police officers are never unauthorised. Remember that, Cadet.’ On the desk was a photograph of a pretty, young girl, perhaps fourteen or fifteen years old, with a knock-out smile. ‘Who’s that?’ he asked.

‘My sister.’

Rath looked at the cadet. ‘The reason you joined the force?’ Tornow nodded. ‘A pretty girl,’ Rath said. ‘Still so young.’

‘It’s an old photograph.’

‘You still haven’t told me the whole story. Why you became a police officer, I mean.’ Tornow took a sip of beer and fell silent, just like a few days ago when Rath broached the subject for the first time. This time he probed further. ‘Don’t you want to talk about it?’

‘I’m not sure you’ll want to hear.’

‘Of course, I will. Tell me.’

Tornow gave a forced smile. ‘Actually I’m not sure I want to tell it.’

‘It’s up to you.’

‘Alright, then.’ Tornow cleared his throat. ‘It was more than seven years ago and, damn it, Luise was the prettiest girl in the world.’

‘Was?’

‘She isn’t dead,’ Tornow said. There was a pain in his expression that Rath hadn’t seen before. He was usually so upbeat. ‘But perhaps it would be better if she was.’

Rath didn’t probe further. He let Tornow talk.

‘We lived with my parents in Teltow, a small town to the southwest of Berlin, and our own little suburban idyll, or so we thought. One day, in this suburban idyll, my sister – she was fifteen at the time – saw two men climb through a window into a warehouse. She called the police, but when they arrived all they found was the broken window. Shortly afterwards, two men fitting their description were arrested. Luise had got a pretty good view of them, and had no trouble identifying them when they brought her to the station.’

Tornow paused, as if needing to gather his strength.

‘The whole family was at the trial, even Father took the morning off. We were proud of Luise who had shown courage, and refused to be intimidated. She made her statement in court. The lawyer for the defence was from Berlin, an expensive type. Unaffordable, really, but the two intruders were members of a Ringverein. Anyway, this lawyer spoke very kindly to Luise, and asked her to read a letter, which he passed across. She couldn’t; she needed glasses to read. Glasses which she seldom wore – you know how girls are. By the end, the lawyer had made it seem as though she were half-blind. On top of that, he dredged up a few old stories that painted her as a busybody driven by a desire to be the centre of attention. Even being class president was used against her. The piece of shit. My parents, myself and my brother, had to sit and watch how this brave girl, who had only acted out of a sense of public duty, was suddenly turned into a short-sighted, busybody little brat willing to send two innocent men to jail. At the end, the lawyer presented the judge with a watertight alibi for both his clients, so that the pair, who had plenty of prior convictions, were acquitted.’

‘That sort of thing happens all too often,’ said Rath. ‘Justice becomes a question of money, and the person who can afford the best lawyer is usually the winner.’

‘We sat in disbelief,’ Tornow said. ‘My sister put on a brave face, but I could see she was close to tears. No wonder, given that this lawyer had publicly humiliated her, and not just in front of her family, but half the town. A number of Teltow residents had made the journey to the District Court, and they were all witnesses to her humiliation.’