‘How about I throw in Emil Kuhfeld and Gustav Stresemann while I’m at it? Special offer.’
‘In your shoes, I’d be taking this more seriously. I’m not joking.’
‘What are you saying? That Charly will be released when Goldstein is sentenced? Are you planning to keep her locked up for six months?’
‘It will be enough when Goldstein is arrested and charged with these murders.’ Tornow looked Rath in the eye. ‘It’s up to you how long we keep the poor thing locked up but, in your position, I wouldn’t hang around.’
‘If you have so much as laid a finger on her…!’
‘No one’s going to do anything to her. We don’t believe in assaulting women, but she might not get much sleep over the next few days, which is unhealthy in the long run. Like I said: I wouldn’t be hanging around.’
What kind of man was this? Why was he doing this?
‘You’ll never get away with it,’ Rath said.
Tornow laughed. ‘Funny, that’s exactly what a female acquaintance of yours said. You’re mistaken, the pair of you. You don’t know how well connected we are. I advise you to tread carefully.’
Rath shook his head. There was nothing more he could say.
‘Oh, and another thing…’ Tornow smiled his smile, which now seemed more like a devilish grin. ‘…it sounds rather strange to be saying this to a police officer, but it applies just as well. No police. If you want to get your girl out of this alive. This is between us.’
Rath left Tornow where he was and exited the lavatory, slamming the door as hard as he could.
112
Ernst Gennat sat on the terrace of Café Josty with a slice of gooseberry tart in front of him. Normally it was him dishing out cake to his subordinates, but here it was the other way around.
‘I hope you’re not trying to bribe me, Inspector?’
‘I wouldn’t dream of it,’ said Rath. ‘Please tuck in, Sir.’
Rath had taken his hat and coat and left the office without another word to Gräf or his secretary. Let Sebastian Tornow explain. Before setting off, he had paid another visit to Road Traffic. The information his friend from this morning had provided made him uneasy. He had impressed upon the man how important it was not to share it with anyone else.
The owner of the black sedan used to abduct Charly was known to him. Rudi Scheer had run the armoury at Alex, until it was discovered that he belonged to a weapons smuggling ring operated by right-leaning circles in the police force and Reichswehr. Scheer had been put out to pasture, but avoided censure. Even back then, Rath thought it was a mistake.
Gennat hadn’t touched his tart. ‘I would be very grateful, Inspector,’ he said, ‘if you would please tell me why you have asked me here. On the telephone just now you gave the impression that it was a matter of life and death.’
‘I fear it might be, Sir.’
Gennat listened so spellbound that his gooseberry tart remained untouched. ‘You’re not about to get mixed up in this extortion?’ he said, when Rath had finished. ‘Falsifying evidence!’ He was indignant.
‘I have another idea, but it won’t work without your support. First we have to arrest Goldstein.’
‘We have to find him first.’
‘Taken care of! I know where he’s hiding.’
‘Have you been withholding information again?’ Gennat let his cake fork drop and gazed angrily at Rath. ‘So, you are trying to bribe me!’
‘Absolutely not, Sir. I just want you to hear me out. Ten minutes, then you can decide for yourself.’
Gennat listened.
As expected, Marlow wasn’t pleased when Rath asked him to pull off the men in and around Tornow’s flat.
‘He’ll get his desserts, I promise you that but, if we lean on him now, we’ll be putting someone else’s life at risk. He has to think he’s safe.’
‘You’re asking a lot of me, Inspector.’
‘I know, but how would it be if you let the constitutional state do its work. No vigilante justice. Rest assured, the man will be punished.’
At length Marlow agreed. Another hurdle cleared, but it was the next one that mattered most.
In Saint Norbert’s, Rath came upon Pastor Warszawski, but the man was not inclined to cooperate. ‘I thought you’d be back,’ he said. ‘Which is why I took the necessary precautions.’
‘Goldstein’s no longer here?’
‘Of course not.’
‘Where is he?’
‘Why should I tell you? Why do you suppose he’s no longer here?’
‘Could it be that you don’t trust me?’
‘I trust in God, not in people. Tell me where he can reach you and I’ll set everything in motion.’
‘I don’t have much time, damn it! Someone’s life is at stake.’
‘Then you’ll have to explain.’
Rath explained.
It wasn’t a particularly original hideout, but it was unlikely they’d have found Goldstein without the help of the Catholic Church. Pastor Warszawski insisted on accompanying Rath personally. A seed of distrust remained. They drove southwest along the Reichsstrasse 1, turning left just before Zehlendorf. As they reached a peaceful, green street, the pastor told Rath to stop. On one side were nice little houses with gardens, on the other a seemingly endless green hedgerow.
‘The Abendruh allotment gardens,’ Warszawski explained. ‘I have a plot here.’
Rath parked the Buick outside a pretty, detached house, the kind he always dreamed about owning, but knew he’d never be able to afford without inheriting his parents’ estate. The hedgerow on the other side was broken at regular intervals by entranceways. Behind it he saw trees, shrubs, flagpoles and the roofs of allotment sheds: the classic hideout in a city like Berlin. It was nigh-on impossible to find anyone here if you didn’t already have a lead, or a resident who’d reported something suspicious.
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.
113
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.