Goldstein, page 46
The allotment gardens were huge. Rath followed the pastor along a path that was straight as a die, with hedgerow on both sides. After making a few turns, always at a right angle, now to the right, now to the left, he began to feel as if he were in a maze belonging to a baroque castle estate. Warszawski came to an abrupt halt.
‘Here it is,’ he said, though he didn’t seem too comfortable about it.
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Barely two hours later, a truck, four green Opels from the motor pool and, lastly, the black murder wagon drew up in Elmshorner Strasse. Uniformed officers sprang from the truck and moved on the allotments using three parallel paths. A group of plainclothes CID emerged from the Opels. Ernst Gennat climbed out of the murder wagon, followed by Wilhelm Böhm.
On their way out west they had been caught in rush-hour traffic, but decided against using the sirens for fear of attracting attention. Rath cursed his luck; every hour Charly spent in the grip of Tornow and his men was one too many. He had to pass the whole journey sitting next to Sebastian Tornow and would have liked nothing more than to ram his fist into the man’s face. Tornow behaved as if nothing had happened between them. Still, Rath had done his best to avoid talking to the man, indeed, had barely even looked at him. Gräf observed the inspector’s reticence, and no doubt put it down to their conversation in the Nasse Dreieck, which was a good thing, although it meant the detective was suffering from a guilty conscience. Gennat had alerted all officers working on the Goldstein case, as well as any murders the gangster was apparently responsible for, more or less exactly the investigations named by Tornow hours before.
Rath and his men made for Pastor Warszawski’s shed along the middle path, where Wilhelm Böhm awaited them, a bastion of calm. In his hand he held a megaphone.
‘Rath and Tornow, you stay out here,’ he barked. ‘Goldstein has already given you the slip once. Let’s not make it a second time. He knows your faces.’ The Bulldog pointed towards Gräf. ‘He knows you from the hotel, too.’
The rest of the CID officers were allowed past. Rath was familiar with the plan of action thanks to the briefing Gennat had held before they set off. First anti-riot police would surround the area, taking cover behind the hedgerow. To the right and left of the plot gate, two officers would be stationed with firearms at the ready. Buddha had warned them to make use of their weapons only in case of emergency. He and Böhm were the only CID officers on the front line; those left over would be deployed to help Uniform keep overly curious gardeners away from the operation.
Rath, Gräf and Tornow were the only officers stationed outside who weren’t in uniform, and held themselves apart. They had even less to do than the uniform cops monitoring the entrances to the allotments. Most used the lull for a cigarette break, Rath likewise.
‘If all we’re doing is standing around, then why are we here at all?’ Gräf said in irritation, returning to the Opel in which they had arrived. Rath was about to follow when Tornow addressed him. ‘Nervous?’ he asked.
‘Do I look it?’
‘Yes.’
‘It’s because I’d like to know when you’re going to release her.’
‘As soon as I’m certain that Abraham Goldstein is actually in there, and we lay our hands on him.’
‘You don’t trust me?’
‘All this happened pretty fast.’ Tornow smiled. ‘Either you knew where Goldstein was hiding and decided to keep it to yourself, or this is just a massive ruse and the only things we’ll be digging up here are molehills.’
‘Just wait,’ said Rath, who was still thinking of socking Tornow one. Instead he threw his cigarette on the asphalt and trod it out, as if it were a poisonous spider. Or Tornow’s smile. ‘You still haven’t told me why,’ he said. ‘Why did Lenz and Höller have to die?’
Tornow’s smiled vanished. ‘Best you don’t know too much about that. Not that they’ll be missed. They were career criminals. The whole world knew it, yet no one was willing to take them to court.’
‘Kuschke wasn’t a career criminal. He was a cop.’
‘Perhaps he made other mistakes.’
‘Like leaving a witness behind?’
‘Like I said, there are certain things it’s better you don’t know.’
Böhm’s voice was distorted and amplified by the megaphone.
‘Attention! This is the police! Abraham Goldstein, we know where you are hiding. Come out with your hands up. Resistance is futile; the site is surrounded on all sides.’
For what felt like half an age they heard nothing, and Rath prayed it would all go according to plan. He couldn’t help thinking about Charly; her life depended on the scheme he had hatched together with Gennat.
114
At times she couldn’t remember where she was, or who was questioning her. She just knew that someone was always questioning her, that they hadn’t granted her a single break. There was always at least one man asking questions, sometimes more. She found it harder and harder to concentrate. Sometimes she saw men who weren’t there at all, more and more often something flashed at the edge of her vision: a familiar face, a man in a red pullover. On one occasion she thought she saw Gereon. Fatigue dragged her down like a dead weight, but still they wouldn’t let her sink to the floor. Again and again she was forced to struggle against the burden of her exhaustion. She could no longer say how long this had been going on. Hours, days, weeks might have passed.
Her cheeks stuck to her gums because they weren’t giving her enough to drink. Only when she was no longer capable of speech did they allow her a sip of water. In the meantime she got the hang of simulating a dry mouth, since not all the guards were so strict. Some were a little quicker to show compassion, and one had even let her nod off for a moment before waking her. Others shouted at her constantly, beating their fists against the table to intimidate her.
Though they didn’t let her sleep and seldom gave her anything to eat or drink, they didn’t lay a finger on her. No one would believe what these men had visited upon her, indeed that they had visited anything upon her at all. It was a kind of violence that left no trace.
115
Arresting Goldstein proved easier than anticipated. The anti-riot police had expected a Chicago style shoot-out, something with machine guns, or at the very least smoking Colts, but nothing of the sort had occurred. Not a single shot had been fired in anger.
Böhm repeated his instructions, Rath heard a clink (it later transpired that one of the uniform cops in the adjacent plot had knocked over a garden gnome in his nervousness) and Goldstein had emerged.
‘Keep your hands where we can see them, Herr Goldstein,’ Böhm bellowed through the megaphone.
‘Gold-sstiehn,’ the Yank said, and Rath almost let out a yelp of joy. It had worked. ‘My name is Gold-sstiehn,’ he continued. ‘I’m an American citizen and I think there has been a misunderstanding.’
‘Herr . . . Gold-sstiehn, I am arresting you on suspicion of the murders of Jochen Kuschke, Gerhard Kubicki, Hugo Lenz, Rudolf Höller and Eberhard Kallweit.’
‘Then tell your men to come out and cuff me. My arms are going to sleep here.’
‘That’s all you have to say?’ The surprise in Böhm’s voice was plain.
‘And that I’m innocent, of course.’
Tornow and Rath listened spellbound to the exchange.
It took a while to escort the gangster out of the allotments and for calm to be restored. First came CID and the uniform cops who had made sure that no innocent gardeners ventured into the line of fire, then the officers who surrounded Goldstein’s hideout. Lastly, the pair shepherding the Yank between them.
Goldstein had his hands cuffed behind his back and seemed more or less unperturbed until he saw Rath, and possibly Tornow, although he ignored the latter. At the sight of Rath, his expression darkened, displaying first anger then outright contempt. He didn’t say anything but, as he was led past, he spat onto the asphalt in front of the inspector. The two anti-riot policemen he was sandwiched between pulled him away and bundled him into the murder wagon. Clearly, Gennat wanted to speak with him on the journey back. Then came the man himself, Ernst Gennat, together with Böhm, who held the megaphone like a Teuton emerging victorious from battle.
‘Good work,’ Buddha said and clapped Rath on the shoulder. ‘That goes for you too.’
He was referring to Tornow, whom Gennat now accorded a paternal glance.
The cadet looked a little confused.
‘And now?’ Rath when they were alone again, strolling towards the Opel.
‘And now what?’
‘We had an agreement. Goldstein has been arrested on five counts of murder. Now it’s your turn.’
‘Just be patient a little longer. First we need to go to Alex, then I’ll head home where I can use the telephone, and set things in motion.’
‘Where can I pick her up?’
‘How stupid do you think we are?’ Tornow shook his head. ‘All that’s left is to wait.’
116
Major Police Operation
Dangerous Gangster Behind Bars
American gangster Abraham Goldstein was tracked down and arrested today as part of a major police operation. Rumour has it that Goldstein, who was hiding out in an allotment in southwest Berlin, attempted to escape before being overpowered by courageous German officers. The American gangster is alleged to have killed several people in Berlin, including a police officer, an SA man and a second-hand dealer. He is also accused of the murder of two major underworld figures in the city. Homicide Division Chief Ernst Gennat explained to Tag that the evidence was ‘overwhelming.’ Also playing a significant role in the successful police measure: Detective Inspector Gereon Rath. ‘It was Inspector Rath who managed to locate Goldstein’s hideout,’ Gennat confirmed.
Most evening editions carried the story so that, tomorrow, a significant number of people would know Goldstein was in police hands. Sadly, it was only Der Tag that alluded to Detective Inspector Gereon Rath’s rehabilitation. Had Weinert not been aboard the Zeppelin, it might have appeared in Tageblatt too. Even so, a single mention was enough. Gennat owed him a debt of gratitude, Bernhard Weiss even more so.
Tornow had advised him to be patient, but Rath hadn’t slept a wink. He had headed with Kirie to Spenerstrasse, even started clearing away the chaos in Charly’s flat. He had changed the sheets on the bed, in the process feeling a little like his mother, who had gone to similar lengths whenever little Gereon had returned after the summer vacation. She even used to bake a cake for the homecoming son. Admittedly he hadn’t done that for Charly, though he had put fresh flowers in a vase. He looked around. The flat felt almost habitable again. He hadn’t sorted the papers, of course, as he didn’t want to go snooping through her things, but he had returned the books and everything else to their rightful places.
Finally, he sat at the table with a bottle of cognac and a glass, thinking about her. Had they released her yet? Was Tornow deliberately keeping him in suspense, or did he have to speak to his accomplices? So many questions were swirling around his mind, the uncertainty made him crazy. The only thing he knew for sure was that he was going to need a whole lot of cognac to get any sleep. He savoured the first gulp, then drained the rest of the glass as though it were schnapps – in the end, this wasn’t about enjoyment or etiquette.
Kirie had curled herself up and was looking at him out of sleepy eyes.
‘Cheers, Kirie,’ he said, raising a second glass.
After drinking half the bottle, he fell asleep, to awake from tangled dreams, his right cheekbone aching from being pressed against the hard wood of the table. For a moment, he forgot where he was, then remembered, sitting up with a jolt that started Kirie out of her light doggy-sleep.
The kitchen clock showed four minutes to six. Rath stood up. The bed was empty, of course. Be patient, Tornow had advised, all that’s left is to wait.
Rath had waited long enough. He had to do something. After a lick and a promise, a quick shave, a cup of black coffee, a final cognac and two cigarettes, he grabbed his hat and car keys and set off.
Traffic was still light, so he made it from Moabit to Leuthener Strasse in quick time. In Tornow’s attic flat, the lights were already on and the day seemed to be proceeding as normal. At this hour, that meant: Police-cadet Sebastian Tornow prepares for duty.
Rath left Kirie in the car and climbed the steps to the top floor. Tornow was knotting his tie as he opened but, apart from that, looked as spruce as ever.
‘You?’ he said, not particularly surprised, and stepped to one side as Rath pushed past him into the flat. Tornow closed the door, stood in front of the wardrobe mirror and continued knotting his tie. Rath slammed the paper he had purchased en route on the wardrobe. The Vossische Zeitung, already open at the page.
‘What am I supposed to do with that?’ Tornow asked, finishing his tie knot. It was perfect.
‘It states that a certain Abraham Goldstein was arrested yesterday by police and charged with several murders,’ Rath said.
‘I was there, in case you had forgotten.’
‘I was starting to think I had imagined it. What’s happening with your end of the bargain? Where’s Charly?’
‘Not here, if that’s what you thought.’ He smiled, but by now all Rath could see was a provocative sneer.
‘I don’t think it’s funny,’ he said. ‘Until now I’ve played by your rules. If I find out that anything’s happened to her, or you’ve taken me for a ride, then I’ll start playing by mine.’
‘What is this? Are you trying to threaten me with Johann Marlow and your gangster friends? Trust me, they’re on their way out too!’
Rath froze. How did Tornow know about his links to Marlow? Had Red Hugo blabbed?
‘Stop stalling,’ he said, ‘and tell me where she is. Why are you still holding her, damn it?’
‘We’re not.’ Tornow looked indignant. ‘She was released at five o’clock this morning. I did say you’d need to be patient.’ He looked at Rath pityingly. ‘Hasn’t she been in touch?’
‘She isn’t home, that’s all I know.’
‘We didn’t drive her home. She’ll have to find the way to the nearest bus stop herself.’
‘Where is she? Where did you drag her?’
‘Drag her? She was chauffeured.’
It was unbelievable. Tornow was still smiling.
‘Where?’
Rath felt his anger wrestle against the bonds he had imposed on it.
‘You really mean it, don’t you?’ Tornow made a magnanimous face. ‘Very well, then,’ he said. ‘Onkel Toms Hütte. There’s a toboggan run on the edge of the Grunewald. You should take a look there. Maybe she fell asleep in the middle of a clearing. She’s certainly tired enough.’
Rath couldn’t hold back any longer. He slammed his fist into Tornow’s grin.
Tornow looked at him aghast, leaning forward so that his snow-white shirt wouldn’t be soiled by the blood dripping from his face.
‘You really are an arsehole, Gereon Rath,’ he said, spitting blood. ‘Is that how you thank me?’
‘I’ve thanked you by not hitting you a second time.’
He left Tornow’s flat as quick as he could, slamming the door and running down the stairs until he reached his Buick, where Kirie awaited him, tail wagging.
117
The road to Zehlendorf had never seemed so long. Half an hour later Rath climbed out of his car on Spandauer Strasse and attached Kirie to her lead. She was looking forward to her walk, although there were a few clouds above. On the other side of the road was a path leading to Onkel Toms Hütte, a restaurant popular with day-trippers that had lent its name to the area as a whole. To the right was the start of the Grunewald. A weathered sign pointed towards the toboggan run, a large clearing in a pine forest located on a precipitous slope. Only a ski jump hinted at its winter use. A few men were walking their dogs.
No sign of Charly. Rath called her name and listened. Nothing.
One of the dog walkers approached, bringing his German shepherd to heel with a sharp, ‘Bismarck, sit!’ Rath looked on in envy.
‘Can I help you?’ The man held his head slightly to one side as he spoke, and the dog did likewise.
‘I’m looking for a woman,’ Rath replied.
‘Here in the wood?’ The man looked up at the hillside. ‘You’d be better served using the lonely hearts in the BZ.’
He laughed and walked on. Rath was too taken aback to think of a humorous response, but the man stopped.
‘Wait a minute,’ he said, ‘I’ve just remembered something. A young lady shuffled through this morning at the crack of dawn. She went past my window as I was getting up. She looked – what’s the word – helpless. Is it her you’re looking for?’
‘Helpless? Yes, could be.’ Charly’s condition sounded graver than he had feared. Perhaps Tornow had been telling the truth, and they had tried to make her talk by depriving her of sleep. ‘Where did you see her?’
‘Riemeisterstrasse. Where I live. Beside the U-Bahn station.’
‘Thank you.’
Rath shooed Kirie, who was upset not to be going further, back to the car, and drove to the estate that GEHAG had conjured out of nothing and, indeed, was still conjuring in places, if the piles of sand and planks outside the houses were anything to go by. Some of them still hadn’t been plastered and very few had mown lawns. On the corner of the road stood pines and beech trees, so high they must have been planted long before building work commenced. Rath parked outside the U-Bahn station. The cafe opposite clearly had airs, labelling itself a Conditorei.
He fetched the dog from the car, and no sooner did he have her on the lead than he felt a tug. Kirie had picked up a scent and was suddenly very animated, holding her nose close to the floor, sniffing intently and pulling Rath towards a modern brick portal that served as the entrance to the U-Bahn.
