Goldstein, page 41
‘You want me to make coffee now?’
‘Just a joke.’
‘My sides have split.’
‘What telephone number did you give Christine Möller?’ Rath asked.
‘Pardon?’
‘Christine Möller. Another girl from your impressive collection. You know it’s quite astonishing what you ask of your informants. Pretty much everything, it seems, except for information, of course.’
Lanke turned pale and leaned against the doorframe.
‘I don’t know what you’re talking about,’ he said, but it didn’t sound convincing. Lanke knew why Rath was here.
‘Hugo Lenz, also known as Red Hugo was your plaything’s lover. Is that the right way to describe it? Were you jealous? Was that why you arranged the meeting with your supposed colleague? I think it was you who shot Hugo Lenz, or did you hire someone from overseas?’
‘I’m sorry?’ This time he sounded genuine. Rath was surprised. ‘It wasn’t me. You have to believe me!’
‘Then tell me who it was.’
‘I can’t. Don’t you understand!’
‘No.’
‘I can’t betray the fellowsh . . . the men. It would mean certain death.’
Gregor Lanke looked like a man out of his depth.
‘The story about how you wanted to get Goldstein by smuggling your informant into the Excelsior was a lie,’ Rath said. ‘You were acting on behalf of your comrades there too, weren’t you?’
Lanke said nothing, but Rath realised he was on the right track. ‘What’s going on here, Lanke?’
Gregor Lanke gazed at his feet, saying nothing, but shaking slightly. Rath almost felt sympathy for him.
‘You should think hard about cooperating, otherwise I’ll make your dirty business public and that’ll be it for your police career.’
‘If that’s what you have to do. I’ve got nothing more to say. Now, please leave my flat.’
Rath wouldn’t get anything more out of him for the time being. The man seemed genuinely afraid. When the doorbell rang he looked at it like a deer in headlights. Rath opened and stared into a pretty face. He had never seen this young lady before, but felt certain she could be marvelled at in an illegal nightclub somewhere in Berlin. He tipped his hat and took his leave, wishing both parties ‘a nice weekend’, which, of course, neither of them would have. Gregor Lanke was soaked in sweat, no longer capable of anything.
Rath had no sympathy, now, for his successor. He’d never been able to stand the man. The question was, what was Lanke so afraid of that he’d rather see Rath destroy his police career than blab? When it came out that Lanke junior was consorting with prostitutes doubling as Vice informants, his career would be over. Not even Uncle Werner would be able to prevent that.
Rath stepped onto the road and moved towards his car when, at that moment, he saw a man with a shopping bag. ‘Hello,’ he cried across the street, ‘taking care of the weekend shop, are you?’ Sebastian Tornow looked at him wide-eyed.
‘What are you doing here?’ he asked.
‘I was about to ask you the same thing.’
‘I always do my shopping here. I live just around the corner, on Leuthener Strasse.’
‘A coincidence then.’
‘And yourself?’
‘I was visiting an ex-colleague. Assistant Detective Lanke.’
‘Lanke! I didn’t know you were in Vice.’
‘You know Gregor Lanke?’
Tornow laughed. ‘Everybody knows everybody around here. You run into people all the time, even while you’re out shopping.’ He gestured towards the bottles clinking in his bag. ‘How about a quick beer at mine? We can usher in the weekend?’
Normally, Rath would turn him down without thinking, but this time it didn’t seem like such a bad idea. ‘Why not?’ he said.
Tornow didn’t live in the same comfort as Lanke. His apartment was furnished, with a live-in landlady. Rath was reminded of his first Berlin flat on Nürnberger Strasse. True, Tornow was slightly better off, with two rooms: one for sleeping, and another for eating and working, albeit both had a sloping ceiling. There was a small dining table with four chairs, an armchair and a small sofa. On the desk by the window stood a typewriter and telephone along with a few framed photographs. Rath’s gaze fell on the aquarium next to the sofa.
‘You have fish,’ he said, surprised. An aquarium didn’t fit his image of Sebastian Tornow.
‘A man needs a hobby,’ Tornow grinned. ‘Ladies are strictly forbidden at Frau Hollerbach’s.’
‘Sounds familiar, which is why I found another flat. True, it might be a little more expensive, and it’s in a rear building, but I’m my own master. Frau Lennartz comes to clean, otherwise I could have a hundred women over without anyone taking any notice.’
‘Apart from Vice perhaps,’ Tornow said.
He took two beers from the bag and placed them on the table, clearing the rest of his shopping into the cupboard. The men flipped the lids open and clinked bottles.
‘Thanks,’ Rath said. ‘This reminds me that I haven’t made good on my promise to buy you a beer.’
‘There’ll be plenty of opportunities. Perhaps I’ll get to know the legendary Nasse Dreieck that Reinhold’s been telling me about.’
‘He has, has he?’ The Dreieck by Wassertorplatz was Rath’s local, where he ended long working days with Gräf. ‘I wanted to wait until I bought you that beer,’ he said, ‘but since we’re here now . . .’ He stretched out a hand. ‘It’s time we called each other by our first names. I’m Gereon.’
Tornow shook. ‘Sebastian.’
They clinked bottles for a second time. Rath pointed out of the dormer window, at the imposing figure of the Schöneberg gasometer towering above the roofs of the Sedanviertel. ‘Nice view you’ve got here,’ he said.
‘Can I tell you something?’ Tornow said. ‘Every now and then I do something illegal. Pretty often, actually. Almost every week.’
‘You’re a serial killer?’
‘No,’ Tornow said ‘From up there, you get the best view the city has to offer.’
Rath put his bottle down. ‘You climb up there?’
‘It’s where I think best, when it all gets too much for me down here.’
Rath would sometimes climb to Liebig’s dovecote when he needed peace and quiet.
‘The gasometer’s like an animal,’ Tornow continued. ‘It breathes. Every night the bell falls, and every morning it rises again. There’s something comforting about that.’
Rath gestured with his beer bottle towards the enormous steel framework. The gas holder had risen almost to its full height. ‘How do you get up?’
‘There are steel steps. Do you see the rings up there in the framework? They’re for maintenance workers, but anyone can climb them and see the whole city from the top.’
‘And that’s illegal?’
‘No entry for unauthorised persons, it says on the signs.’
‘Police officers are never unauthorised. Remember that, Cadet.’ On the desk was a photograph of a pretty, young girl, perhaps fourteen or fifteen years old, with a knock-out smile. ‘Who’s that?’ he asked.
‘My sister.’
Rath looked at the cadet. ‘The reason you joined the force?’ Tornow nodded. ‘A pretty girl,’ Rath said. ‘Still so young.’
‘It’s an old photograph.’
‘You still haven’t told me the whole story. Why you became a police officer, I mean.’ Tornow took a sip of beer and fell silent, just like a few days ago when Rath broached the subject for the first time. This time he probed further. ‘Don’t you want to talk about it?’
‘I’m not sure you’ll want to hear.’
‘Of course, I will. Tell me.’
Tornow gave a forced smile. ‘Actually I’m not sure I want to tell it.’
‘It’s up to you.’
‘Alright, then.’ Tornow cleared his throat. ‘It was more than seven years ago and, damn it, Luise was the prettiest girl in the world.’
‘Was?’
‘She isn’t dead,’ Tornow said. There was a pain in his expression that Rath hadn’t seen before. He was usually so upbeat. ‘But perhaps it would be better if she was.’
Rath didn’t probe further. He let Tornow talk.
‘We lived with my parents in Teltow, a small town to the southwest of Berlin, and our own little suburban idyll, or so we thought. One day, in this suburban idyll, my sister – she was fifteen at the time – saw two men climb through a window into a warehouse. She called the police, but when they arrived all they found was the broken window. Shortly afterwards, two men fitting their description were arrested. Luise had got a pretty good view of them, and had no trouble identifying them when they brought her to the station.’
Tornow paused, as if needing to gather his strength.
‘The whole family was at the trial, even Father took the morning off. We were proud of Luise who had shown courage, and refused to be intimidated. She made her statement in court. The lawyer for the defence was from Berlin, an expensive type. Unaffordable, really, but the two intruders were members of a Ringverein. Anyway, this lawyer spoke very kindly to Luise, and asked her to read a letter, which he passed across. She couldn’t; she needed glasses to read. Glasses which she seldom wore – you know how girls are. By the end, the lawyer had made it seem as though she were half-blind. On top of that, he dredged up a few old stories that painted her as a busybody driven by a desire to be the centre of attention. Even being class president was used against her. The piece of shit. My parents, myself and my brother, had to sit and watch how this brave girl, who had only acted out of a sense of public duty, was suddenly turned into a short-sighted, busybody little brat willing to send two innocent men to jail. At the end, the lawyer presented the judge with a watertight alibi for both his clients, so that the pair, who had plenty of prior convictions, were acquitted.’
‘That sort of thing happens all too often,’ said Rath. ‘Justice becomes a question of money, and the person who can afford the best lawyer is usually the winner.’
‘We sat in disbelief,’ Tornow said. ‘My sister put on a brave face, but I could see she was close to tears. No wonder, given that this lawyer had publicly humiliated her, and not just in front of her family, but half the town. A number of Teltow residents had made the journey to the District Court, and they were all witnesses to her humiliation.’
‘I understand.’
‘No,’ Tornow said, so gruffly that Rath was taken aback. ‘You don’t. The story isn’t over yet.’ His voice was less sharp now. ‘Life went on after the trial, but things were never the same. We had lost faith in the state and its judiciary. And then . . . Luise came home one day and said that she’d seen one of the men on her way to school. No one believed her, either in town or in school because, by now, she was just some half-blind busybody. We were the only ones who took her seriously, but our insistence at school and with the police got us nowhere. Then . . .’ He had to swallow before continuing. ‘ . . . then one afternoon just before the summer holiday – I still remember how hot it was – she didn’t come home. We looked for her everywhere, but eventually it was a walker who found her lying beaten half to death in the Hollandwiese, clothes ripped to shreds and blood all over her body. She hasn’t spoken a word since that day, but we know who’s responsible. The two men who ruined my sister’s life.’
‘How is she now?’
‘She hasn’t said a word for seven years, and no longer leaves the house. How do you think she is? She’s a walking corpse.’
‘I’m sorry,’ Rath said. ‘It’s a dreadful story.’
‘She’s the reason I became a police officer. My sister, Luise Tornow.’
Rath couldn’t help feeling guilty. He was one of those who didn’t shy away from working with criminals, with Marlow and his Ringverein. Only today he had given a colleague what for, more or less at Marlow’s behest. Had he ever thought about whether something like that could be squared with his original motivation for becoming a police officer? Yes, he had; he had thought about it a hell of a lot, only so far he hadn’t found any answers. He pushed the uncomfortable thought aside. ‘What happened to the two men?’
‘They died in a shoot-out before they could be sentenced. Some gangland dispute but, who knows, perhaps the courts would have acquitted them again. Maybe it was better that way. Maybe death was their punishment.’
There was more than a little satisfaction in his voice. In Tornow’s eyes, the men who had ruined his sister’s life had got their just reward. He was probably right, Rath thought.
They were silent. Rath hadn’t been expecting such a grim tale; it occupied his thoughts for a time. Tornow managed to find a smile again.
‘That was yesterday,’ he said. ‘What matters is the here and now.’ He raised his bottle.
Rath did likewise. ‘The here and now! Now that you’re with CID, you can make sure people like that get put away.’
‘Let’s hope so.’
‘How do you find the work in Homicide?’
‘If you forget about how boring it can be sometimes . . .’
Rath grinned, remembering what he had had Tornow and Gräf doing these past few days.
‘ . . . then I think it’s the most worthwhile thing a police officer can do.’
‘I couldn’t agree more.’ Rath didn’t know if it was the beer making him so garrulous, but here was a chance to sound Tornow out. ‘What would you think,’ he began, ‘if I were to put in a word with Gennat so that you can join A Division? Assuming, of course, you pass your examination.’
Tornow looked at him in surprise. ‘Assuming I pass,’ he said, ‘I’d like that very much.’
Rath placed his bottle on the table and glanced at his watch. ‘Time for me to go.’
‘I’d have thrown you out in five minutes anyway,’ Tornow laughed. ‘One beer’s quite enough. Seriously, I need to take an S-Bahn in ten minutes.’
‘Where are you going?’
‘The West End.’
‘That’ll take you a while on public transport, won’t it?’
‘I suppose so.’
‘My car’s outside. If you like I can take you part of the way. I need to pick up two passengers at Bahnhof Zoo: a dog and a woman.’
‘Bahnhof Zoo would be great. It’s only six or seven stops from there with the U-Bahn.’
Rath asked Tornow for a glass of water to mask the smell of beer, followed his host’s lead by washing his face and hands and combed his hair, and soon they were driving along Potsdamer Strasse.
As agreed Charly and Kirie sat on the terrace of the Berlin cafe on Hardenbergstrasse.
‘Is it OK if I let you out here?’ Rath asked.
‘I can manage the rest on foot,’ Tornow said. ‘No need to accompany me to the platform.’
Rath grinned and switched on the indicator to park.
Charly hadn’t seen him, but Kirie recognised the car. The dog could pick out the Buick from hundreds of engine noises. She started barking and, as he cut the engine, Charly spotted him too.
Perhaps he should introduce her to Tornow, he thought. After all, Tornow didn’t know her from before. Until now they had kept their relationship a secret from everyone in the Castle. Not even Gräf knew about it, although he was one of Rath’s few friends in Berlin. The problem was that he idolised Charly, and had done since the pair worked together.
By now it was too late to weigh up the pros and cons. Kirie dragged Charly towards the car, just as Tornow was opening the passenger door. Rath hurriedly got out, and went round to the other side to receive Kirie’s rapturous greeting. Charly smiled at him, she liked how he was with the dog. Tornow looked on.
‘Hello, you two,’ Rath said. ‘Now, that’s what I call a greeting. I’ve brought a colleague along. Allow me to introduce Sebastian Tornow. I’ve told you about him before.’ Tornow stretched out his hand and smiled his winsome smile. ‘And this,’ Rath continued, ‘is Charlotte Ritter, prospective lawyer.’
He broke off when he saw Charly’s frozen smile. It was as if it had appeared by accident in place of an altogether different expression, which Charly, somehow, was unable to find.
‘A pleasure,’ Tornow said, stopping short now himself. Charly didn’t say anything more. ‘I must push on,’ said Tornow, letting go of her hand.
With a tip of his hat, he took his leave, but not before looking back discreetly. Rath couldn’t blame him.
‘What’s the matter with you?’ he asked.
She looked at him, apparently bewildered. ‘Who was that?’
‘I told you that already. My new colleague, perhaps even a new friend. A nice guy, anyway. Sebastian Tornow.’
‘I think I’ve seen him before.’
‘He’s only been at the Castle for a week.’
‘Not at the station.’ She gazed through him, the only person on earth who could look at him like that. ‘Gereon,’ she said. ‘There’s something I have to confess.’
They had hoped to take a drive out to the countryside while daylight still permitted, but contented themselves with a walk over Cornelius Bridge to the nearby Tiergarten. The dog needed exercise, and Rath wanted to hear Charly’s story. He could scarcely believe what she had to say. As they strolled northwards, she explained how she had spent the past week. Since Monday she had been working undercover for Gennat as part of an unofficial operation. She had been detailed to track down Alex and perform surveillance on a cop suspected of murder. This same cop had now been murdered himself. Rath knew Böhm was handling the case from Thursday’s briefing.
‘And you witnessed this murder?’ he asked.
‘Not directly. I followed him, and . . . it’s best I just show you. We’re almost there.’
Soon afterwards, they reached a church, behind which began one of the better residential areas in the city: nice houses, all with small front gardens, clean and well kept. In the Hansaviertel there was no sign of crumbling stucco on the house fronts.
Charly pointed towards an advertising pillar. ‘That’s where I hid. Coming down Lessingstrasse I naturally kept my distance. When I turned the corner, he was standing by a streetlamp, completely motionless.’ She gestured towards a gas lamp six or seven metres away. ‘I didn’t know what was happening, and just tried to make sure he didn’t see me.’ She swallowed. ‘It wasn’t until I went over to him, that I saw the knife in his chest. Or rather, a trench dagger from the war.’
