Ernst Haffner - Blood Brothers

Once Jonny has put in that the goods are safe, Fred starts to talk. The garage in Leipzig where he first took the car must have been under police observation, because from that point on he was always in company wherever he went. He of course couldn’t go to the fellow who was supposed to take the car off his hands. By suddenly leaping onto a passing tram, he shook off the police. There they were again at the main Leipzig station, though they apparently missed Fred climbing onto the Berlin train. But then the Leipzig police must have wired Fred’s details to Berlin, because when he got to Anhalter Bahnhof, there were two officers standing there who let him pass, but who then set off on his tail to find Fred’s hidey-hole, and if possible his companions in crime as well. He wrote the wire on the hoof; luckily he had paper and stamps on him. And in the crush of Potsdamer Platz, an opportunity presented itself to post the letter unobserved. What set them on to the address in Badstrasse …

Anyway, it seemed the Blood Brothers had been under observation for some time now. Fred gave the officers the slip in the Friedrichstrasse branch of Aschinger’s. The way to the toilets was down a corridor that led out to Krausenstrasse. The officers stood outside the Friedrichstrasse entrance, waiting for Fred to emerge. Waiting, waiting … Fred had avoided the area around Badstrasse and Koloniestrasse. Till he took that late-night taxi, and saw that their hiding place on Badstrasse was already surrounded.

“For the moment, you can stay here; it’s not so bad, unless the weather turns really cold,” proposes Ulli. Ulli knows the Blood Brothers have money, and he’ll do pretty much anything for money. “Fred,” begins Jonny, “you and I had better disappear for a few weeks till the hue and cry is gone. We could go to Magdeburg, and do the job there. You know the one … That’s at least a couple of thou. The rest of you,” he turns to the other Blood Brothers, “you can stay here, and carry on by yourselves. Only weekly markets, though. The department stores are getting twitchy. Ulli, how would you fancy a trip to Magdeburg? There’s three hundred in it for you …” “What’s the job?” asks Ulli. “A pretty harmless affair. I don’t know the details. An old mucker of mine is in charge.”

Ulli says he’s agreeable. Jonny gets everything ready for their departure on the early train. Konrad is to take over the gang during Jonny’s absence. Ulli leaves his summer house to the Brothers staying in Berlin. The buried goods are to remain where they are. It’s too risky to try and flog them now. A couple of brief hours of sleep. Fred, Jonny and Ulli pack a small traveling case each. Outside it’s still pitch black and rainy. On Koloniestrasse they hail a taxi: “Potsdamer Bahnhof.” Individually, with no sign that they know one another, they buy train tickets and board the train. Not until it moves off, and there are no signs of anything suspicious, do they link up. Thank God, they’re clear of Berlin for the time being.

On reaching Magdeburg, Fred and Ulli wait in a breakfast place opposite the station, and Jonny goes off in search of his mate, one Frenchy Felix, who’d needed to get out of Berlin. Frenchy lives with his sweetheart on Fette-Hennen-Gasse. Where is Fette-Hennen-Gasse? On the Alter Markt, near the gaudy town hall. Fette-Hennen-Gasse is the Magdeburg equivalent of Berlin’s Mulackstrasse. Only the warped little cottages in Magdeburg are a couple of hundred years older than those of the Berlin red-light district. Jonny picks his way up a steep narrow wooden stair; each step yields an inch or two, but complains with creaking and asthmatic wheezing. An unmistakable sign for the residents that there’s a stranger about. The residents stick close to the wall when they go upstairs, and the stairs remain silent. At the top, it takes a very long time before there’s an answer to Jonny’s knocking. He can hear whispered consultation inside. “Felix … it’s Jonny here, Jonny from Berlin.” Thereupon the door is unlocked.

A bull of a man stands in front of Jonny, wearing a skimpy nightshirt: “Jonny! Well, this is a surprise! Come in!” In the only bed, more alert and curious than demure, lies Felix’s sweetheart, the prostitute Paula. Flattened corkscrew curls, in a fetching canary yellow, frame the delicate and attractive face. The great lunk Felix only likes to bestow his favors and protection to girls under fifty kilos. “Are you here for the matter I think you’re here for, Jonny?” “Yes, Felix. I brought a couple of the boys with me. One you know: Fred.” “Fred? He’ll do.” Felix turns to his sweetheart: “Cutie-pie, will you get up? My friend wants coffee, and so do I.” Cutie-pie jumps up, and first hurries to the mirror to sort out her hair. The rest, her delicate figure under the sheer nightie, she doesn’t mind the boy seeing. Thank God everything’s still where it ought to be, nothing roly-poly about her.

After breakfast Jonny and Felix head for Bahnhofstrasse, where Ulli and Fred are waiting. Felix and Fred know each other, but what about this other guy, Ulli? If Jonny’s brought him, he’s sure to be on the level. First thing, they leave the restaurant. Magdeburg is small. They talk over their plan in a quiet workingmen’s bar on Jacobstrasse. They’ll need three days to case the house. The job is set for Saturday night. The place itself is no problem. The inhabitants have gone away, a cleaning woman comes once a week. There’s nothing in the nature of an alarm. Sure, they won’t be able to go through the front door, which is iron-plated inside and out, and the locks are new and sophisticated too. So there’s no other way for it than in through the butcher’s shop, and up through the ceiling. The butcher himself lives four doors away, and there’s no one in the shop at night.

Kühleweinstrasse, just off Nordpark, lies there deathly quiet. A few isolated lights on in some of the houses. Magdeburg is a law-abiding town of sober habits, and Kühleweinstrasse doesn’t buck the trend. At half past two in the morning, Felix and Jonny are standing outside the butcher’s. The shop doesn’t have any valuables, and isn’t particularly well secured. The two locks on the door … well, put it this way, they’re not the most challenging Frenchy’s ever seen.

Ten minutes later, the door is open. A soft meow is the signal to Ulli and Fred, who’ve been standing guard on the corner. Ulli minds the door, the other three go to work inside. Everything happens quietly enough. Felix hops onto the counter, a little table supplies the extra height he needs to reach the ceiling. Fred and Jonny spread a blanket out. Felix’s fretsaw attacks the ceiling. He’s to saw out a square big enough for a person to pass through it. A tough job, even for the powerful Felix. At the end of half an hour, a plaster-of-Paris square falls noiselessly into the blanket the other two are holding ready. With a supple pull-up, Felix gets into the apartment. Jonny and Fred follow. Now everything’s rosy, and time’s not a problem. First get our bearings. Aha, the dining room. Cue: silver.

But everything’s not as it should be. The fact that the butcher happened to have a little reunion tonight in Wilhelmstadt wasn’t anything the band could have been expected to guess. He’s just turning the corner into his street, when he sees a man posted in front of his shop. And the door — he has sharp eyes, even when he’s coming home from a reunion — the door is ajar. A break-in at his shop! Police! Where to go? The bar on the corner of Rollenhagenstrasse still has its lights on. He rings up. “Burglary!” The police pick up. “… but no sirens mind, officer, otherwise the villains will get away!”

But then the squad car does sound its siren! At some distance yet, but it’s audible a long way off. Ulli hears it too, he yells into the shop: “Out … out!” And now he needs to run. The butcher, in the shade of the opposite side of the street, is livid when he sees Ulli making a break for it. The police car screeches round the corner. Six officers, revolvers in hand, storm the shop, with the butcher lending moral support. Shining their powerful torches around, they quickly see the hole in the ceiling. Upstairs in the apartment, something tinkles to the floor. The leader of the police calls up: “This is the police! Come down, or else we’ll shoot!” Nothing moves. He calls up again. Then the officers hear the sound of a window being opened upstairs. The driver has switched on his mobile beam, and is now bathing the façade in harsh illumination. For a brief instant, a male figure can be made out by the window. The commander calls up again. From above comes an echoing reply: “All right, we’re coming down. Don’t shoot.” One after the other, they clamber down into the shop through the hole. Shortly after, Jonny, Fred and Felix are sitting in handcuffs in the car. The apartment is searched, in case of any more villains lurking about. Since the door to the butcher’s shop can no longer be secured, a constable is left on watch.