Jonathan Rabb - Rosa

“No, Herr Kriminaldirektor. ”

“Ah,” said Weigland. “My mistake.” He made the introductions. “They’ve been brought in, now that it’s a political case.”

Ernst Tamshik had the look of the military about him, the way he kept his hands clasped tightly behind his back, the way his broad shoulders hitched high so as to keep his back ramrod straight. There might even have been something protective to him had it not been for the expression on his face: he was a bully, and a particularly brutal one, judging from the child’s sneer in his eyes, an ex-sergeant major, Hoffner guessed, who had reveled in the terrorizing of his young recruits. But, like all bullies, he had learned to play the innocent while under his mother’s watchful gaze. Hoffner had yet to figure out which of the two, Weigland or Braun, had assumed that role.

Walther Hermannsohn was far less graspable. He was slighter, though just as tall, and had no need for Tamshik’s stifled violence or Braun’s clipped affectation. He projected nothing and, for Hoffner, that made him the most dangerous man in the room.

“A political case?” said Hoffner. “That seems a bit premature, don’t you think, Herr Kriminaldirektor ?”

Weigland was momentarily confused. “Premature? Why do you say that?”

Hoffner explained, “Luxemburg has the same markings as the other homicides. Why assume that it wasn’t simply bad luck for her and poor timing for us-or, rather, for you, Herr Kriminaldirektor ?”

Weigland tried another unconvincing smile. He shifted slightly in his chair. “It’s just Direktor now, Nikolai. Direktor,Kommissar,Oberkommissar. We’ve dispensed with the Kriminal up here.”

Hoffner waited before answering. “That’s convenient.” Weigland showed no reaction. “Then, my mistake, Herr Direktor. ”

Weigland’s smile broadened. “No mistake, Nikolai. Just a bit of new information.”

Hoffner nodded once. “Is it also new Polpo policy to take Kripo bodies from the morgue in the middle of the night?”

Weigland was unprepared for the question. Tamshik, however, was not so reticent. He spoke with a clumsy arrogance. “It wouldn’t be the first time.”

The look from Braun told Hoffner where the teat lay.

“If,” Braun said calmly, “this is a political case-as the Direktor has just said-then your confusion, Herr Kriminal-Kommissar, seems unwarranted.”

Hoffner continued to look at Weigland. “And the body would simply have found its way back to the morgue by tomorrow morning? Or would my confusion have begun then?”

Braun answered with no hint of condescension: “There are things here you can’t fully understand, Herr Kriminal-Kommissar. Luxemburg’s been our case since she got back to Berlin in early November. A Kripo officer happens to find her body in mid-January and you think she’s no longer ours? You must see what little sense that makes.”

“Yes,” said Hoffner. “I’m beginning to see the lack of sense. Did you have a man waiting for her outside the prison gates, Herr Oberkommissar, or does the Polpo leave the distant edges of the empire to someone else?”

Braun said, “Frau Luxemburg was a threat no matter where she was, Herr Kriminal-Kommissar. Breslau, Berlin, it makes no difference. That’s why she spent the war inside a cell. The last few months should have made that obvious, even to you.”

“I see.” Hoffner saw how pleased Braun was with his answer. “Funny,” said Hoffner, “but I thought the last few months were all about how the generals and politicians were divvying up what the Kaiser had left behind when he ran off to Holland. I wasn’t aware that one little crippled woman had played so important a role. Unless the game was charades.”

Braun’s jaw tightened. “And I wasn’t aware that officers in the Kripo had sympathies for such extremists.”

“Just for pawns, Herr Oberkommissar, ” said Hoffner. Braun said nothing. “May I see the body?”

Braun said, “And what would be the reason for that?”

Hoffner waited. Braun’s expression told him nothing. Hoffner turned to Weigland. “I assume the body will not be coming back to us tomorrow.”

“No,” said Braun.

Hoffner continued to speak to Weigland: “I didn’t know the fourth floor had storage and examination facilities, Herr Direktor. ”

“A recent addition,” said Braun.

Hoffner kept his gaze on Weigland. “Can I assume the markings on the back will go untouched?”

Braun said, “Again, I’m afraid we can’t promise that, Herr Kriminal-Kommissar. But we’ll do our best. For your case, of course.”

Hoffner finally turned to Braun. “Of course,” said Hoffner. The room became silent as the two men stared at each other.

“Why not simply take her this afternoon?” The voice came from behind them. Hoffner turned. It was Fichte from the corner; he showed no fear at all. “I mean, if it was your case, Herr Oberkommissar, ” Fichte continued. “Why not take the body then?”

Hoffner stared at his young Assistent. It was the first time he had felt pride in him.

Braun had also redirected his attention. “A courtesy, Herr Kriminal-Assistent, ” he said coolly. “We do, after all, work in the same building.”

“I see,” said Hoffner, retaking the reins. “A courtesy that runs out at, what, seven-thirty, eight o’clock? Is that about the time Frau Luxemburg made her way up to the fourth floor? And, forgive my confusion, Herr Oberkommissar, but how did you know Herr Kriminal-Assistent Fichte was down in the morgue if you already had the body?”

For the first time, Braun hesitated. “There were tools we needed-”

“Tools?” Hoffner countered. “I see. And what exactly were you planning to do with our body, Herr Oberkommissar ?”

“I find it strange,” said Braun, “that you should have such an interest in this one body when you have yet to make sense of the other five. Surely the pattern should be clear enough, by now?”

“Clear as day,” said Hoffner, “if we could be certain that those bodies wouldn’t go missing in the middle of the night, Herr Oberkommissar. Will our ice room be empty in the next week, in the next two weeks? I’m just asking so as to minimize any confusion.”

Weigland suddenly thumped his hand on the desk. “Let’s have a walk, Nikolai,” he said amiably. “You and I.” He stood and stepped out from behind the desk. “A walk would be good, yes?”

The suggestion was as inappropriate as it was unexpected. Hoffner felt like the class idiot about to be ushered from the room. Tamshik seemed to be enjoying the moment immensely.

Hoffner said in a quiet tone, “If that’s what you’d like, Herr Direktor. ”

“Absolutely,” said Weigland as he put a hand on Hoffner’s shoulder and started to move him toward the door. “There should be a pot of coffee at the end of the hall. A coffee would be nice, don’t you think?” Tamshik had the door open. “See if Herr Assistent Fichte would like something, as well,” said Weigland as he passed Tamshik.

Hoffner found himself out in the corridor, the door closed behind him. Weigland kept his hand on Hoffner’s shoulder: it helped to maintain the surreal quality to the little jaunt. “Your boys are what, six and ten now, Nikolai?” said Weigland as they slowly made their way down the hall.

“Seven and fifteen, Herr Direktor. ”

“That’s right. Seven and fifteen. Very nice.” Weigland continued to walk. “I lost a grandson in the war, you know. Not much older.”

“Yes. I was sorry to hear, Herr Direktor. ”