Reginald Rosenfeldt - Battlefield Berlin

Reginald Rosenfeldt

Battlefield Berlin

A commissioner Kowalski thriller

Dieses ebook wurde erstellt bei

Inhaltsverzeichnis

Titel Reginald Rosenfeldt Battlefield Berlin A commissioner Kowalski thriller Dieses ebook wurde erstellt bei

1. TRUST AND HONESTY

2. CELEBRATE THE NEWS

3. BAD BOYS

4. FISH AND CHIPS

5. BIG GIRLS DON’T CRY

6. HEAD OVER HEELS

7. HIDE AND SEEK

8. DEAD WARRANT

9. MANEUVER IN SPANDAU

10. WHEN THE FUN REALLY STARTS

11. DOG FOOD

12. SINS OF THE FATHERS

13. NAKED FURY

14. CRIME OF THE CENTURY

15. THE REAL REASONS?

16. AT THE END OF THE ROAD

17. TEN LITTLE INDIANS

18. WELCOME TO THE TERRITORY OF THE SECOND GERMAN STATE

19. BROTHERS IN ARMS

20. THE GOLDEN GOOSE

21. STRANGER IN A STRANGE LAND

22. AN INFORMAL CONVERSATION

23. THE REAL LIFE

24. CHECKPOINT CHARLIE

25. ILLUSIONS FOR THE LAYMAN

26. ASHES TO ASHES

27. SAND IN THE GEARS

28. AT MIDNIGHT

29. THOUGHTS IN A "BELL LONG RANGER"

30. NOTHING THEN THE TRUTH

31. A PERFECT DAY

Impressum neobooks

Michael Herold closed his car and looked thoughtfully at the sleepy houses on the other side of the street. In the few shops was the light turned off automatically, and on the nearby Town hall-place whined the typical sound of a BVG Bus.

Michael grinned wryly. "No balls in the pants." Or how they used to say it much more appropriate in the other districts of Berlin, the Spandau night watchman, employed as a tourist attraction, had closed the sidewalks.

Amused, Michael stuck the car keys in his trouser pocket and looked at his watch: 23:10 clock, only forty-five minutes to midnight. That was exactly the right time for a cozy meeting with Poland-Charley. Michael pulled high the zipper of his jacket, crossed the street, and entered the park. Behind the trunks of the few trees lurked the shadow of the war-memorial, and at the end of the short sandy path, waited the pedestrian bridge for the Linden-Shore.

Michael walked to the middle of the slightly curved concrete footbridge and looked at the lonely shore. The promenade was on the western banks of the Havel, the second major river of Berlin, and a few months ago, wandered here the good citizens of Spandau. Now, was the only memory of these carefree, sunny times a wooden sign of the "star and circle shipping". Sadly, it reminded Michael of his so often planned, and then cancelled trip to the great lake of "Wannsee". At the deserted docks wintered now the steamers of a Spandau ship-owner and at that view, Michael heard again Charley's broken voice in the telephone receiver

"See you on the "Cheerfulness”. Can you not miss the boat, is it right in front of the bridge to the Stabholz-garden. Can you come on board; I've agreed that with the captain. We drink first one or two brandy and then we'll talk. Please Michael, I have great news, you'll be amazed!"

Michael shook his head, and tried not to think on Charley's last tip. In the end, the so promising-sounding information was totally worthless gossip, trash for the feature. Yes, Harald Seib and his gossip column were just the right buyers for Charley's creepy tales.

Michael grinned against his will at the thought on his special colleague and walked to the shore. Large chestnuts lined the wide promenade and behind a low metal grid lay a small steamer. First, Michael checked the name on the ship's prow, to make sure that he stood before the "Cheerfulness", and mustered her then in detail: On her front deck lay a staple of decayed chairs under a tarp and behind the closed restaurant curtains glowed a flickering light.

Herold nodded approvingly and enters the ship over a small plank. Behind a sliding door waited a square room on him, only illuminated from the street lamps, and he remained at his center point.

Carefully, Michael scanned for a moment the stairs to the upper deck and registered the eerie silence on the steamer. Was Charley not on board? Yes, this was possible! Michael knows only too well, that the old man hated any kind of rules, specially the German punctuality.

All right then, decided Michael, if Charley was really late, he would not wait longer than a half hour. This was more than a friendly behavior for the old bugger! Grinning went Michael to the door next to the empty souvenir stand and pushed the handle down. The door swing back and he looked straight into the eyes of two suspicious, completely unknown men. The broad-shouldered guys blocked with loosely hanging arms the passage and Michael cursed silently.

"Shit, Charley had not told me, that his dubious business partner also wanted to come!" With an arrogant smile Michael Herold overplayed his surprise and looked at the silent strangers. But yes, of course: the expressionless faces, accurate hairstyles, and loosely cut weather jackets; the picture were now so clear, that Michael relaxed. With an excessively slowly movement, he held his right hand up in the air and nodded encouragingly.

"There’s no reason, to be nervous, gentlemen, I pull just the press card from the jacket!"

"No jokes! Come over here!" The rumbling voice has a frighteningly familiar tone and Michael opted not to answer. Still smiling, he pushed past the policeman and walked through the half-dark room. At its end, stood a white painted wooden counter and behind him turned a big man his back to Michael. He had his hands stuffed into the pockets of his hip-length leather jacket and looked bored on the three pictures above the bottle rack. "Poor guy, you may think, the nostalgia has led him back to St. Pauli."

The broad man taps with his right index finger against the frameless glass slide. "Everybody remembered the old UFA film and the white doves, and then the reality is so horrible banal. The blond movie star was just in town and took advantage of the break for a promotional photo.”

"Please, Kowalski! I’m in no mood, to talk over Hans Albers. "Herold ignored the black and white photo of the Hamburg jetties and looked around searching. "So what is it this time? Let me guess, your colleagues from the customs office have Charley caught with illegal duty-free goods?”

"Once again, come simply over here!"

"Whatever you say, this is your show." Herold ignored the reproachful look of the pale gray eyes and walked to the bar counter. Externally totally unconcerned, he circled the with a rescue ring decorated piece of furniture, and then hit him the truth with the intensity of an unexpected electric shock.

"Crap!" Michael looked motionless on the white mark on the ground. Without any doubt it represented the outline of a lying body and in the height of the head smeared a red spot the worn planks.

"Charley?"

"Yes. Your old pal Poland-Charley." With a pensive expression chief commissioner Hans Jürgen Kowalski looked down on the white chalk line. "It happened very quickly. The old man has not felt the fatal blow. Crash, boom, bang, and past it was with the handling of stolen goods!"

"Very vividly expressed, Kowalski. This could almost be a headline from me."

"Oh come on, your readers loves completely different dirt!"

Herold ignored the obvious provocation and tried not to show his concern. He stepped out from behind the counter, and immediately Kowalski growled irritably. "The violent death of your old buddy is no surprise for you."

"My God, you know as well as I, that it eventually had to end this way. That was just a matter of time."