‘Frau Brettschneider?’
‘Whatever her name is. The one opposite.’
‘Frau Brettschneider.’ Rath sighed. ‘What exactly did she see?’
‘She said that Fräulein Ritter left a few minutes ago: In the company of several gentlemen. That’s all.’
The alarm bells were sounding even louder now but, knowing that he was to blame for the trouble Charly was in, he said nothing. Instead, he dashed across the landing, positioned himself on the doormat, and pressed the bell above the name Irmgard Brettschneider. Never in a million years had he imagined this. He rang a few times, but there was no one inside.
‘You can ring as much as you like, she isn’t home.’ Alex was standing behind him, bag on her shoulders. ‘I reckon she’s taking her Sunday stroll or something.’
He was beginning to calm down again. Perhaps there was a logical explanation for all this. ‘Where are you going?’ he asked.
‘Do you have a problem with me leaving?’
She was already on the stairs when he called after her. ‘The fact that I’m turning a blind eye doesn’t mean I approve of robbing department stores.’
Alex turned when she was halfway down. ‘I couldn’t care less. Keep your opinions to yourself.’
‘They aren’t my opinions; they’re the law. Breaking and entering is illegal. Think about that.’ Shit, he thought, you sound just like your own father.
Alex reacted like an obstreperous daughter. ‘Right,’ she said. ‘Perhaps you should have a think about it too. I mean, what does a department store like that actually do? They buy jewellery and watches for I don’t know how many tens of thousands of marks and put it in their display window and charge double the price. Ten thousand marks for putting something in the window? I do a lot more for my money, I can tell you.’
She was gone. Probably she isn’t too far wrong, he thought. Figuratively speaking, any number of so-called pillars of the German economy did little more than window dressing to make their exorbitant gains.
He went back inside Charly’s flat. They had made a real mess: books and papers were scattered all over the floor; only her address book was in its rightful place, next to the telephone on the chest of drawers, and open at the letter R. On the second line, under Raabe, Karin, written in her fine, elegant hand stood Rath, Gereon, Luisenufer 47, 1. Rear Building. Tel. Moritzplatz 2955. Complete with address and telephone number. All that was missing was his shoe size.
It looked as if someone was about to pay him a visit. Perhaps he could still catch the bastards. Before leaving he looked under the kitchen table. The pistol was no longer there. Alex had outmanoeuvred him after all.
108
She didn’t have the faintest idea where she was. The men had dropped a hood over her head as soon as they left Moabit, and hadn’t removed it until they set her down on this stool.
It felt like she was in a bad film. What was happening? Tornow and his helpers had taken an ordinary civilian captive from her flat in broad daylight. She still couldn’t believe it.
In addition to Tornow and the man with the pistol was a third man who had driven the car. She had identified it as a Horch, but hadn’t been able to read the number plate.
The room was windowless, a cellar perhaps, but she couldn’t be sure. Unlikely though, on reflection, since she could feel the heat of day. All three men sat behind a table. It felt like a tribunal, a Holy Inquisition, and she was the witch standing trial.
At least they hadn’t bound her.
Tornow sat on the left, with the older man – Charly put him in his early fifties – in the middle. The pistol lay before him on the table. To the right was the driver, whose face she saw for the first time. Draped behind the three of them was a kind of flag or wall-hanging, a black cloth, which bore the silhouette of a great white hand, reminding her of the lapel badge and sew-on patch they had found in Kuschke’s box.
So, there it was, the first link between Arsehole-Cadet Tornow and the deceased Kuschke. If she had any lingering doubts that Tornow was responsible for the sergeant major’s death, they were now well and truly swept aside.
‘Do you know why you’re here, Fräulein Ritter?’ the older man asked. Evidently he was the highest ranking of the three. Charly debated where she knew him from; she was almost willing to bet he was a cop too. The driver likewise.
Police officers who abducted a woman. Unbelievable!
‘Why I’m here? Probably because you wanted to play a hand of Doppelkopf and you were missing a fourth man. Well, I’m afraid I must disappoint you. First, I’m a woman, and second, I only play skat. Seeing as you don’t actually need me, can I go?’
‘I have to admire your sense of humour in a situation like this.’
‘Exactly what kind of situation are we talking about? So far, all I’ve seen are criminal offences: trespass, intimidation, false imprisonment. What the whole thing means, I’m still not sure. Are you trying to extort money? Again, I have to disappoint you there, my parents really aren’t that rich.’
‘That’s a shame, but I would have thought our operation spoke for itself. We’re trying to prevent you from making a serious mistake. It seems you sighted Police Lieutenant Tornow at a given time and in a given place, despite the many witnesses who would attest otherwise.’
‘What an elegant sentence. You must be either a cop or a lawyer.’
The man smiled. ‘Well, you’re a bit of both, aren’t you. With the emphasis on bit.’
Now Charly remembered where she had seen the man, although she still wasn’t quite sure. ‘Do you really think you’re going to get away with this? You abducted me! I might not know where you’ve taken me, but I do know who I have to thank for it.’
‘We’re aware that you’ve already made Lieutenant Tornow’s acquaintance, but he isn’t here. Nor did you see him in the Hansaviertel.’
‘I know who you are too, Chief Inspector Scheer. I hope you’ve seen to your own alibi.’
The man in the middle appeared genuinely thrown. So, it was him. Rudi Scheer. It had been a shot in the dark. Scheer had run the armoury at Alex, before being transferred out for weapons smuggling.
‘You have good powers of observation,’ Scheer said, ‘but I’m not here either. Just like Sergeant Klinger next to me.’
He meant the driver. No doubt he had given the man’s name and rank to demonstrate their certainty that no one would be brought to account.
‘Since you’re just imagining all this, Fräulein Ritter,’ Tornow said, ‘why don’t you tell us what you know, and what Gereon Rath knows? And whether you have any proof? What did you find in Kuschke’s flat?’
‘One thing I do know: there’s no way you’ll get away with this.’
‘There are certain influential people who move in our circles. Underestimate us at your peril!’ Tornow smiled. How could he be so friendly in a situation like this?
‘That’s why you imagine you’re above the law?’ Charly was talking herself into a rage. ‘Do you know what you are, Herr Scheer? You’re nothing but a crummy arms dealer. They should have finished you off when they had the chance, instead of transferring you out to Charlottenburg.’
Scheer looked at her in amusement.
‘You abducted me,’ Charly continued, ‘do you really think you’re going to get away with it, or are you planning to kill me, to keep all this hushed up? Don’t you think Gereon Rath already knows what happened and who’s behind it?’