Goldstein, page 33
‘What do you want?’ he asked, horrified, only to recognise Rath. ‘Inspector?’ he said. ‘Well, this is a surprise! Pining for your old workplace?’
Rath came straight to the point. ‘Good afternoon. I need to contact one of your informants. A Marion Bosetzky.’
Lanke stared at Rath. ‘Why? You’re a Homicide detective, aren’t you?’
The surprise tactic had worked. Lanke didn’t deny that he had an informant named Marion Bosetzky.
‘It concerns a homicide investigation.’
‘There are proper channels for this sort of thing,’ Lanke said. It seemed he had spoken with his uncle. ‘A request for inter-departmental cooperation, for example.’
‘Come on, now,’ Rath said. ‘Our offices are on the same floor, two minutes apart at most.’
‘Then why don’t you head back to your desk and fill out that official request?’
‘Why are you so keen to get rid of me? Is it so you can get back to looking at your smutty pictures?’ Rath gestured towards Lanke’s desk, which had once been his own.
‘I think you should leave. Otherwise I’ll be forced to ask Superintendent Gennat whether he isn’t giving his men enough to do.’ Lanke reached for the telephone.
Rath had got what he came for. ‘No offence meant,’ he said and smiled, knowing that was what would annoy Lanke most.
74
Erich Rambow parked his bicycle by a tree on Forckenbeckplatz. Charly dismounted in good time before she reached the square, and stood outside a medical supplies store. Reflected in the display window, she watched Rambow carefully lock his bicycle, shoulder his leather bag and set off at a determined march. She rested Greta’s two-wheeler against a lamppost and followed him at a safe distance, using the square’s many trees for cover.
She had had to wait around quarter of an hour by the shops in Lippehner Strasse before he emerged from the courtyard leading to his parents’ house, a leather bag strapped to his bicycle carrier. Rambow had then cycled directly to Friedrichshain, and this time Charly found it easier to keep pace.
Even as a pedestrian he moved at a decent lick. Nevertheless, he didn’t head for the main entrance to the stockyard and slaughterhouse as Charly expected, but ignored the gatehouse and sped down Eldenaer Strasse, keeping to the endless brick wall. She kept her distance on the other side of the street until he came to a halt, so abruptly that she only just managed to jump into an entranceway. When she peered out, he had vanished. She checked that he wasn’t still there before leaving her hideout to cross the street.
Examining the masonry discreetly she located a brick that had been dislodged. Only when she was certain that no one was looking did she pull herself up and swing her legs over the wall, lowering herself onto the other side immediately. She stood in the lane between two brick buildings. The smell here wasn’t sweet, a mixture of blood and slurry, and other things that didn’t bear thinking about.
There was no sign of Rambow. She moved to the end of the lane and looked around the corner. Nothing, not a living soul. The butcher and his leather bag had vanished.
75
If Peaches had been alone, she’d have been OK, perhaps even if it had just been him and Kralle, but there were five of them. Kralle, the coward, had sent his crew in first. Alex caught another of them with the knife handle, albeit not as cleanly as Peaches, but Theo, the strongest, landed a punch. She tumbled to the floor, clasping the fleshing knife tightly, but Theo and the others were on top of her straightaway. Theo kneeled on her upper arms, while the other two prised the blade out of her hand, before pressing her flailing, thrashing legs to the floor. She felt paralysed, utterly defenceless.
The only thing she could do now was spit but, when she did, Theo smacked her again, so hard she felt her lips swell and start to bleed.
Damn it, Vicky, Alex thought, as she tasted blood. You should have made sure no one was following you. What have you gone and done, girl?
Kralle’s grinning face appeared over her.
‘Let me go, you cowards!’ She struggled in vain.
‘Looks like we’ve got ourselves a wild horse,’ Kralle said, ‘that needs breaking in.’
Alex gave up trying to resist. ‘What do you want from me, damn it?’
Kralle pulled a knife. ‘I think you can guess that. This is the slaughterhouse, after all.’
He flicked open the knife and the boys gave a muffled, spiteful laugh. Alex thought she had earned Kralle’s respect after her exploits with the knife, and perhaps she had. Perhaps that was why he had brought four of his crew along. He might be out for revenge, but she didn’t think he’d kill her. He wanted to give her a fright – and was making a pretty good fist of it too. There were a whole lot of nasty things he could do with a knife without killing her. Alex tried to counter her fear with her fury at the crew who had made her life and Benny’s hell from the moment they first set foot in the axle factory.
‘Before we make for the block,’ Kralle said, putting his knife away, ‘it’s time to break this one in.’ Again the boys laughed, with the exception of Peaches, who had just announced his return to the living with a groan. ‘First I’m going to fuck you,’ Kralle continued, fumbling with his fly. ‘Then it’ll be their turn. How often, is up to us.’ He laughed. ‘Oh, one more thing, and this’ll be a novelty for you. This time there’ll be no exchange of cash.’
Alex reared up in her futility. The three boys held her down with an iron grip. Theo, the one she had thought was the most intelligent, dealt her another blow before climbing off her arms, which were now devoid of feeling.
‘So,’ Kralle said, taking his dick out of his trousers. ‘I think it’s time this little whore got her just desserts.’
He had an erection. The sadistic little arsehole was turned on by the fact that she was defenceless and bleeding from her mouth.
Alex couldn’t keep her trap shut, which had always been her undoing. ‘What the hell is that? Is your dick still hard from your boys sucking on it?’
One of them gave another knuckleheaded laugh, breaking off as Kralle’s grin froze to a grimace of rage and he kicked her in the guts. Pain went through her like a fist burrowing and tearing through her insides, and she almost blacked out.
They heaved her onto the rickety table that stood at the back of the room against the windowless rear wall. Although she felt she might throw up at any moment, she defended herself as best she could, but the two boys gripped her legs tight, using their entire body weight to prise them apart. Behind her, Theo held her arms at such an angle that every movement was painful, and Alex feared he might dislocate them. They laid her out ready for Kralle, their lord and master, who now approached with trousers pulled down.
It was useless. It was fucking useless.
She could only fight him with words now. He’d hit her again, but that was preferable to what he had in mind.
‘If you arse-fuckers touch me, you’ll regret it, I swear!’
‘Ho ho,’ Kralle grinned. ‘Where did you learn that word? More! I like it, and the boys too, am I right?’
The boys laughed idiotically.
‘Don’t laugh. I’ll stick you all!’
Kralle flicked his knife open again.
‘If I were you I’d keep quiet, or I’ll carve you a few extra holes to rent out.’
Theo twisted her arms painfully and forced her head back. She felt Kralle lifting her skirt with his stubby fingers, running the tip of his knife along the edge of her inner thigh.
‘All quiet now?’
She heard him panting and gritted her teeth. If she got out of here alive, she’d see they paid for this!
She started as he suddenly jerked the knife, but felt no pain. He had merely cut her underwear. His crew roared. Even Peaches, on the mend after spitting out a few teeth, gave a tentative laugh.
‘Keep her still,’ Kralle said, ‘so I can break her in.’
Alex closed her eyes. You’ll regret this Kralle, damn it!
She felt his sweaty hands on her thighs and sensed her whole body cramping; her nausea was returning. Would he lose interest if she vomited over him? She felt a sharp pain as Kralle penetrated her brutally, accompanied by the howls of his crew.
Alex tried to imagine herself away: away from her body, away from this stinking room, away from this moment, into a future where she’d take revenge on this arsehole and his crew, where every one of them would regret what they were doing to her. She tried to escape her body, but couldn’t; she felt his thrusts, heard his panting, felt her rage growing and growing, alongside a feeling of helplessness. Her despair almost brought her to tears, but she wouldn’t let it, no, these idiots would not see her cry! Dear God, please let this be over soon, she prayed, if you really exist, then let me out of here alive, damn it, so that I can avenge these bastards.
As if He had heard her prayers, Kralle stopped. At the same time, Alex felt the boys’ grip slacken, as though distracted by something.
‘What are you doing here, friend? Take a wrong turn, did you?’ said Kralle, as he pulled out of her.
‘It’d be better if you lot disappeared,’ said a familiar voice.
Kralle and his boys laughed.
‘I don’t believe it,’ Kralle said. ‘Feeling powerful, are you? After your night in the nuclear plant? Or do the pigs have us surrounded?’
‘Who can say,’ the voice said, and Alex suddenly realised who it belonged to. He was here much earlier than agreed, but she wasn’t about to hold that against him. She opened her eyes and lifted her head. Erich Rambow stood in the door, leather bag over his shoulder and a steadfast expression on his face, as if it were no problem dealing with these five boys, one of whom had just pulled a knife from his pocket, the rest looking like they were no strangers to violence. Erich shot her a brief glance, which said something like: Don’t worry. I have this under control.
‘Now listen to me,’ Kralle said, flicking his knife open. ‘I’m not sure you quite understand what this is, but I think it’s best if you make yourself scarce and leave us in peace.’
‘I’ll leave you in peace, when you leave the girl in peace.’
‘Why would we do that?’
‘Scram, and nothing happens to you.’
That brought another round of laughter. ‘And if we stay?’ Kralle asked. ‘What are you going to do? You’re not even armed.’
‘Who says?’ Erich opened his bag and pulled out a butcher’s cleaver.
‘What is this?’ Kralle took a step towards him. ‘It doesn’t even look sharp.’
‘It doesn’t have to be,’ Erich said. ‘The key is how hard you strike. And how fast.’
While he was still speaking, he calmly slashed the cleaver across Kralle’s stomach, double-quick so that he didn’t have time to react. Kralle gazed at the weapon, whose blade was gleaming red, then at his stomach slick with blood and finally at his dick, from which the blood had now drained once and for all. Then he dropped the knife, because he needed both hands to prevent his insides from spilling out of his abdominal wall.
Erich Rambow stood impassively with his bloody cleaver.
‘So,’ he said. ‘Who’s next?’
76
Charly had no idea where Erich Rambow had got to: the dilapidated brick building up ahead? Perhaps he had disappeared to another part of the grounds. The site was almost a city in itself, built for the sole purpose of ushering animals to their deaths so that Berlin wouldn’t go hungry.
She debated how long she should wait. Or whether it wouldn’t be better to call Andreas Lange and have the grounds combed by a squadron of officers. That would be the easiest thing to do, but she’d feel like a traitor to Alex. Even if she hadn’t made the girl any promises.
The rusty iron gate of the building flew open and four boys dashed out, pale-faced and eyes full of panic. One held a bloodied cheek. They ran past almost without noticing her, as if someone else were in pursuit.
For a moment she gazed after them, then turned towards the door, which was still squeaking quietly on its hinges, and went inside.
The building smelled even worse inside, the animal stench compounded by something more chemical. Charly listened, thinking she heard voices, but all was quiet again. She groped her way forwards, ears pricked, trying to make as little noise as possible. Now she checked her weapon, the little pocket pistol Lange had given her, an old Belgian Pieper Bayard. Strictly speaking it was there for Kuschke, if she ran into difficulties shadowing him. She released the safety catch and slowly worked her way forwards, moving from room to room. The stench increased, the voices grew louder. She thought she heard a whimper, someone blubbing behind the door that stood open a crack at the far end. What was going on?
She kicked the door open with her foot, pistol aimed into the half-dark ready to fire.
‘This ends now!’ she shouted into the room, without knowing what ‘this’ was, since only now could she see what was actually happening. She couldn’t believe her eyes. Alexandra Reinhold sat on a table by the end wall of the room, her head resting on Erich Rambow’s shoulders; from her left leg dangled the remains of shredded underwear. Rambow’s left arm was draped comfortingly around her, while in his right hand he held a cleaver that glistened bloody red. A few metres from them on the floor crouched a boy holding his stomach, his trousers pulled down. It was that arsehole from the old factory, the burly youth who had intimidated her: Kralle, or whatever his nickname was. At any rate he sat blubbing and groaning in pain, a picture of misery.
All three stared at Charly wide-eyed, as her pistol flitted to and fro. Instinctively, Alex and Rambow raised their hands, but the boy on the floor only held his stomach. Blood gleamed between his fingers.
‘I’m dying,’ he whimpered over and over again. ‘I’m dying.’
Charly dropped her pistol. ‘What in God’s name happened here?’ she asked.
77
Kronberg knew straightaway which corpse Rath was referring to.
‘The one from the dump? Nasty business, that,’ he said down the line. ‘Completely gnawed by rats. Dr Schwartz says the poor man’s been dead a week, maximum, but there were only two fingers we could use for prints.’
‘And now you’re ploughing your way through the files . . .’
‘Luckily, not me personally.’
‘The ballistics report states he was killed by a Remington?’
‘First I’ve heard of it.’ For a moment there was silence. Kronberg seemed to be thinking. ‘Interesting theory,’ he said. ‘Pretty exotic weapon, but it could fit.’
‘It’s in today’s paper,’ Rath said. ‘Apparently it’s the same weapon as the one used in Humboldthain.’
‘I don’t set much store by these press types but, in this case, they might be right.’
Rath was surprised. Fink’s informant even seemed to be ahead of ED. ‘Have you compared the prints with those of Hugo Lenz or Rudi Höller?’ he asked. ‘They’re on file somewhere, I assume?’
‘Rudi the Rat and Red Hugo? Of course they are, but my guy’s only on F, as far as I know.’
‘You’re doing this alphabetically?’
‘You have to have some kind of system.’ Kronberg sounded a little offended. ‘What makes you think of Lenz and Höller out of everyone?’
‘A tip-off,’ Rath lied. ‘They’re both missing.’
Kronberg burst out laughing. ‘Wouldn’t that be something. Rudi the Rat eaten by his own kind.’ He lowered his voice. ‘I’ll look into it. Thanks for the tip.’
‘Don’t mention it.’
Rath hung up. He was the last in the office and it was time to leave. Looking forward to the evening, he grabbed Kirie’s lead.
Charly’s scent that morning on the pillow had stayed with him all day, and now he wanted more. What a change from the weekend when he had just been getting used to life on his own again.
First he drove to Luisenufer, where he showered and put on a clean suit, before going on his way. This time he gave the flowers a miss, picking up a bottle of champagne instead. True, they still weren’t engaged, but there was reason enough to celebrate . . . He hadn’t thought they’d make up so quickly, had even doubted for a moment they’d make up at all. Even Kirie seemed happy when she realised they were heading back to Spenerstrasse; no sooner had Rath opened the car door than she leapt onto the street and started wagging her tail.
‘That’s right, my friend,’ Rath said. ‘You’ll be seeing mistress again soon.’
He checked himself and Kirie in the display window of the general store. They were looking good! He straightened his tie, made a minor adjustment to his hat, and went inside, whistling as he climbed the steps.
It took a long time for anyone to open, and a strange feeling came over him once more. But then: no grinning man, no nasty surprise. Charly opened it herself.
‘Gereon!’
She looked a little flummoxed. More than he’d been expecting, anyway. He’d tried to reach her a few times at home, without success. No wonder, he thought, if he was on leave, he wouldn’t spend the day at home either. But then he would have been looking forward to seeing her even more.
‘Surprise,’ he said, superfluously. Kirie waggled her tail.
‘What are you two doing here?’ Charly bent down and ran her fingers through Kirie’s black fur. ‘This really is a surprise.’
‘Don’t you say hello to people?’
She looked around, and, seeing no one, gave him a kiss, but remained in the door as if guarding a temple.
‘Aren’t you going to invite us in? That way you wouldn’t have to worry about old Brettschneider having a heart attack seeing us out here.’
Charly appeared contrite. ‘I’d love to but right now, I can’t.’
‘Why not?’ Rath realised that, once again, his surprise tactic hadn’t worked.
