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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.’