‘That’s just it. I’m afraid he’s taken someone hostage.’
110
They were right. Sleep deprivation was the worst torture you could inflict on someone without actually injuring them.
So far, it was only one night, but they were just getting started. Charly had slept badly the night before too, as she always did when she fought with Gereon. What she wouldn’t give for a little nap, but whenever she was about to nod off someone shook her awake.
They had alternated during the night: Tornow, Scheer and Klinger, and other men she didn’t know. For hours at a time they had sat in front of her asking the same questions over and over. What do you know? What does Inspector Rath know? By their style of questioning, she knew they must be police, but it just didn’t fit. She had always thought of police officers as the good guys – with the odd exception.
She couldn’t help thinking of Gereon, the way he had reacted yesterday (or was it the day before? She could no longer remember), his disbelief when she told him about Tornow and what she had seen. He would scarcely believe this, either. What about the others: Gennat and Böhm? What if everyone she accused could provide an alibi? Perhaps Tornow and Scheer were right and no one would believe her. On reflection Gereon might, perhaps. What had he said on the telephone yesterday? Or the day before? Today? Her thoughts went round in circles as she began to doze.
Her body longed to fall into blissful sleep.
Until she was shaken brutally awake.
‘Where did Gereon Rath get this telephone number?’ a voice asked. Not Scheer, or Tornow, but one of the other voices that had been tormenting her. She didn’t have any idea what they were talking about, otherwise she might just have blabbed.
111
The Road Traffic Department opened at eight thirty. Rath had been sitting on the wooden bench outside since quarter past. Shortly before half past, a man in his mid-fifties came down the corridor, moving irritatingly slowly. Furrowing his brow, he looked at Rath waiting outside his office, and took a bunch of keys from his pocket.
‘Good morning,’ Rath said, receiving no response, not even a greeting.
Once the man had opened the doors, he tried to follow him inside, but was forbidden from doing so.
‘If you would be so kind as to wait,’ the man said. ‘We open in one minute.’
Other employees came down the corridor, other doors were opened, but still Rath had to wait until eight thirty on the dot, when the first officer poked his head through the door. ‘Good morning,’ he said.
All smiles now that work’s started, Rath thought, showing his identification.
‘A Division,’ he said. ‘I need some information. The owner of this vehicle.’ He passed the officer a handwritten note.
The man put on his reading glasses. ‘Have you put in an official request?’
‘No, but I’m in a hurry. Exigent circumstances.’ This was usually enough, but the man shook his head doubtfully. ‘It’s urgent,’ he said. ‘If you could help me out.’
‘OK, I’ll turn a blind eye this time.’
Rath waited at the desk, but the man showed no sign of moving.
‘What is it? Was there something else?’
‘The owner of the vehicle?’ said Rath.
‘Things don’t move that fast. I’ll call you.’
‘Would you please hurry up! This could be a matter of life and death.’
The officer was unperturbed. ‘Pretty much par for the course in Homicide, isn’t it?’
Rath hoped the situation wasn’t as serious as all that, but he didn’t know. He hadn’t slept. Uncertainty ate away at his insides. What had Tornow and his men done with Charly? They seemed to have their backs against the wall, and were responsible for at least two murders, probably more. He had told Marlow his theories yesterday evening: that a group of police officers was intent on sparking a gangland war between the Nordpiraten and Berolina. Evidently, some were prepared to commit murder. Murders, plural. All of which they hoped to pin on the mysterious American gangster the press already had its claws into – thanks to Stefan Fink.
It still wasn’t nine o’clock when he arrived at the office. He was the first there. Damn it, that pen-pusher in Road Traffic! Hopefully he’d cough up the vehicle owner’s name soon. It was Rath’s only lead.
At some point Erika Voss appeared, which meant it must be nine. Shortly afterwards Gräf entered too. Rath was distracted; he said hello, but no more. Gräf assumed it was Monday morning blues, and didn’t probe further. Rath sat like a cat on a hot tin roof, needing the vehicle owner, needing something to do. Why were they keeping him waiting?
‘Where’s Tornow?’ Gräf asked, cautiously.
‘He won’t be in today.’
‘Sick?’
Rath didn’t respond and Gräf preferred to focus on his work, phoning his way down the list of outlets that sold Camel cigarettes. In a low voice.
Suddenly, the door to the outer office flew open and Rath thought his eyes must be playing tricks. Sebastian Tornow smiled at each of them as if nothing had occurred.
‘Good morning,’ he said. Erika Voss returned his greeting.
Rath could have strangled her as, not for the first time, she gazed adoringly at the new man. Even Gräf’s friendly nod went against the grain. Rath muttered something incomprehensible, taking a moment to process the shock before he could react in a halfway normal manner.
Tornow hung up his hat and coat, and sat at his temporary desk. ‘Good weekend?’ he asked. ‘Let’s get started, then.’
‘What are you doing?’ Rath asked.
‘Going through the Camel outlets,’ Tornow said, pointing towards Gräf. ‘Our colleague has already made a start.’
‘Our colleague can take care of that on his own.’ Rath said. ‘You’re coming with me!’
‘Where?’
‘Come on!’
Rath was so aggressive that Gräf gave a start behind his desk. Even Erika Voss looked intimidated, which was a rare thing. They seemed to be wondering what punishment Rath would mete out for being ten minutes late.
Rath dragged Tornow outside into the corridor.
‘What’s the matter?’ he asked.
‘Not here,’ Rath snarled. A few officers were making their rounds.
‘I thought we were friends.’
‘Keep your mouth shut.’
Rath yanked Tornow into the toilets and closed the door, seizing him by the collar and throwing him against the wall. Tornow gasped for air. ‘Where is she?’
‘Wait a minute,’ Tornow said. ‘Can’t we resolve this like civilised human beings?’
‘There’s nothing civilised about abducting a woman.’
‘Let me go! Now, otherwise you’ll never see her again.’
Tornow had said it quietly, but pointedly enough to paralyse Rath with fear. Tornow still had the upper hand. He let him go and asked again: ‘Where is she?’
‘The fact you’re so concerned makes me think we did the right thing yesterday.’
‘Who is we?’
‘That’s none of your concern.’
‘Where is she, God damnit?’
‘Also none of your concern. Let’s just say that she’s doing as well as could be expected under the circumstances.’ Tornow straightened his shirt collar and tie. ‘We’ll deliver her safe and sound as soon as you’ve carried out a little assignment for us.’
‘You want me to kill someone? That’s what you lot do, isn’t it?’
‘It’s very simple. You need to forget everything you know about me, or think you know. No one’s going to believe you anyway. Then, and this is the important part, so listen up. You’re going to see to it that Abraham Goldstein is arrested and charged with the murders of Hugo Lenz, Rudi Höller, Gerhard Kubicki and Jochen Kuschke. Oh, and Eberhard Kallweit. I almost forgot about him.’