Reginald Rosenfeldt - Battlefield Berlin

"Uh, yeah..." Michael had the young man next to the shower not notice until now. "Thanks, but I'm waiting for my wife. We agreed to meet us here, and she must arrive at any moment."

"I understand. Feel free to look around, and if you have a question, just call."

"Thanks, I think about it!" Michael Herold lay down the faucet and mustered unobtrusively Leo Oblonsky video store on the other side of the street.

"NO TABOO" announced a neon sign above the for at least half a year no longer cleaned shop window and behind the door denied a poster further insight. Michael gave the oversized breasts in the photo a tired smile and turned back around. Intentionally speaking a little bit louder, he told the seller, who waited behind him: "I'm afraid my better half is not on time, and I have not the intention, to make the selection alone."

"No Problem; we are open to 18 clock."

"See you." Herold walked to the exit and remained a moment behind the glass door. Calmly he shut the zipper of his suede jacket and cast a glance out into the street. Before the shop two excited school girls argued vociferously about a boy named René, and on the road rolled a light blue Mercedes in reverse. The battered car slowed squeaky, drove half a meter in the opposite direction, and parked just outside the sex shop. Almost simultaneously opened the car doors, and three young men forced their way into the street. The well trained body’s clad black leather jackets, jeans and combat boots, and the whole presentation was so equal switched, that Michael alerted squinted his eyes.

Instinctively, he stepped back and watched tense the boys that smell after a lot of trouble. Two of them leaned bored at Leo's shop window, while the third stands in the middle of the road, and watched the surrounding houses with a critical eye. After a minute or two, he suddenly turned around, stared again down the road, and stretched then his right thumb in the air. Immediately pushed one of his comrades the shop door open, smiled contemptuously, and marched into the video store.

"Shit!"The sight of the nasty show turned Michael Herold almost the stomach. Such a primitive display of latent violence had he not seen for a long time. He takes a deep breath, left the bath-shop, and tried to ignore the warning voice in his head.

"Forget it", whispered the countless years of work experience in Michaels mind. "Make your inquiry another day." He shook his head and blinked imperceptibly in the for this time of year unusual sunshine. Outwardly very calm, he crossed the road and walked past the car. Behind the windscreen chunky fingers drummed on the handlebars and a broad-shouldered figure moved restlessly on the seat.

“The same for you!" Michael muttered unimpressed and entered the Sex-boutique. Cheerful, he greeted loudly: "Good day," but the only person in the room overlooked him entirely. The guy with the short-cropped hair flipped yawning through a glossy magazine, and covert with his body a cheesy beaded curtain. Behind the plastic balls creaked a wood plank, someone coughed dryly, and Herold could not suppress a mocking smile. "Okay," he thought with satisfaction, "So, there stuck the Herren comrades.”

Michael Herold turned around and looked at the shabby shop a little more intense. Its center point presented a stand with porno magazines, on the two long sides were shelves full of video tapes, and on the opposite side was the Cash desk. Michael looked briefly on the stacked condom boxes and listened again to the sounds from the back room. Something clattered loudly, cabinet doors were slammed, and a hateful voice yelled, "It is enough for now, you bitch! You can plug the silly fairy tales into…"

"Please, gentlemen! I really do not know where Leo stays! I have heard since three days nothing from him. No call, no sign of life, not a single word! I will not lie to you, honestly!" Understandable panic distorted the otherwise melodious alto voice of the woman. "What shall I do? I can't conjure Leo, but I promise in everything I hold sacred, I call immediately, if I see him again."

"How stupid do you think we are? You Polish whore, I think all you need is a little bad reminder... "Two beats echoed through the curtain, followed by an incredulous cry.

"Oh crap," flashed it through Michael. Instinctively, he took a step forward and the hitherto motionless guards set himself in motion. With crossed arms he stood in front of the counter, while his indifferent glance sent out the unmistakable warning: "Thus far and no further!"

Michael Herold sighed tortured. "Take it easy, my young friend. No excitement!" Slowly, so as not to unnecessarily provoke, drew he from his pocket a badge with a police emblem and waved it imperiously through the air.

"All right then?" Michael squeezed himself past the proverbial, like a salt pillar solidified boy, and knocked firmly against the door frame. "Ms Oblonsky?" Beyond the curtain prevailed within fractions of a second the silence of a sealed mausoleum.

"Dethlefsen, BKA! Please Ms Oblonsky, it is about information which relates your husband! "Herold threw a conspiratorial glance at the guard, that still blocked the space. "This Poland pack believes actually that they all stand outside the German law, but now it's over with the fun. Ms Oblonsky!"

Again Michaels pounded his fist against the wooden frame. "What’s now? Must I really pick you up on my own?"

Quietly rustling shared the strings of pearls and a slim, at least 1.75 meters tall woman stand waiting on the threshold. A contemptuous smile played on her full lips, while her manicured fingers ran uncertain over her hips.

"Well, well!" Herold mustered unabashedly for a breath her flawless figure, then he darted his look on the behind her appearing thugs. "I'm really sorry guys, but the party is over."

"It's all right, boss." It was clear to see, that the "bald patch man", did not know exactly, in which way he must assess the situation. "I mean, you don't interrogate the bitch throughout the whole day. Tomorrow starts the party again! I promise you that, darling!”

"Whatever you say!" Michael clapped encouragingly in the hands. "Well, Ms Oblonsky, swing your butt! I have no desire, that the chief torn my ass, because we arrived to late in his office.”

Ms Oblonsky mouth twitched imperceptible and she walked without a look on the other men to the exit. Gracefully put she like a mannequin one foot before the other and nothing of the events of the last few minutes seemed really touching her. Almost bored, she stopped in front of the closed shop door, and a touch of irony vibrated in her dark voice, when she asked Michael: "Well, Commissioner, will you not quickly show me your office?”

“Don’t worry; we are away, faster than you can imagine it!” Michael Herold registered the keen perception of the women. She leaned confident against the door frame and whirled challenging a key ring around the index finger. "Boys, time to close."

"Well, gentlemen! You have heard the lady; end of the show! "Herold pointed in the direction of the door. "I think we understand each other now better. You are welcome to enjoy yourself, but please not in my presence."

"All right, boss!" The balding struck one of his comrades on the shoulder. "Here we go. You've heard the boss; tomorrow is another day! "

Emphasizes slowly, strolled the three to the exit, and on the threshold remained the man with the sparse blond hair again standing. With an exaggerated gesture, he raised his right hand, and stroked the quivering woman slightly above the cheek. "Hey, baby! Leo does not deserve you. So forget the loser and let us be really good friends."

Ms Oblonsky nodded silently, while a blood-red line blemished her white skin. Provocative clenched the bald one his fingers into a fist and breathed at the silver ring with the engraved skull.