Already he missed her, and debated whether he shouldn’t wave her goodbye after all, but soon the thought of Guido, of Greta and Professor Heymann, and whoever else might show up, quashed the impulse. You arsehole! he thought, stop being so goddamn sentimental.
He drove back to Luisenufer and took a stroll with Kirie through the park, before going up to his flat. Inside, he didn’t know what to do. It wasn’t quiet enough to listen to music. He telephoned Gräf, but he wasn’t home. Weinert had sent his apologies again. He seemed to be at a different reception every night, moving in circles to which Rath would never gain access. Since his return, Weinert’s interest in police matters had noticeably waned.
Rath felt left out and, for a moment, considered stumping up for a distance call to his friend Paul, if only to hear that familiar, sing-song Cologne accent. Stupid idea, he thought, and placed the receiver back on the cradle.
He sat at the kitchen table and stared at the bottle of cognac. It stared back, but he remained steadfast. Not a drop! Instead he lit a cigarette. Kirie looked at him, her head tilted to one side.
‘We’re just going to have to get used to being on our own again,’ he told her.
The telephone rang. It was Gennat.
‘What’s happened?’
‘It’s Tornow,’ Buddha said.
‘Has he finally talked?’
Sebastian Tornow had been in hospital for eight weeks, but hadn’t spilled. On one occasion even Rath had tried, but all he received were hate-filled looks. His organisation had collapsed around him, but still he remained silent, as if protecting someone. Legally speaking, what he had told Rath on the gasometer was worthless.
‘That would be a thing,’ Gennat said. ‘No. I’m afraid we won’t have the chance to make him talk any time soon.’
‘What’s happened? Has he…’
In the first few days Sebastian Tornow had almost died of blood poisoning.
‘No, he’s alive, I’m afraid.’ It was rare to hear a sentence like that from Ernst Gennat’s lips. ‘It looks as if he’s escaped. He must have had help.’
‘How is that possible? Wasn’t he being guarded?’
‘He was in a hospital, not a cell.’
‘Isn’t he helpless with just one arm?’
‘The sister tells me he’s become quite skilful at getting things done.’
‘How did he make it past the guards?’
‘He didn’t have to. The two men have vanished as well.’
‘From Die Weisse Hand?’
‘That’s what we suspect.’
‘Now what?’
‘We’ve put out an appeal. No leads so far. We suspect that he means to go abroad, and are monitoring all border checkpoints. The alternative is…’ Gennat hesitated.
‘The alternative is that he’s after me. Is that what you were about to say?’
‘He has reason enough to want revenge.’
‘Luckily I’ve got company tonight, that I don’t think he’d dare go near.’
‘Sounds like you’re having dinner with Hindenburg.’
‘Even better,’ Rath said. ‘I have to say goodbye to someone.’
‘I can guess who you mean.’
‘On Dr Weiss’s orders. Besides, Abraham Goldstein isn’t as bad as his reputation suggests. So long as he doesn’t shoot you.’
‘Then make sure you don’t get shot. And see to it that the man actually catches his train. He’s been here long enough.’
‘Twelve weeks to be exact, but only one at the state’s cost. He’s made a real effort to support the local tourism industry.’
‘Maybe you should too,’ Gennat said. ‘I hope we’ll know more about Tornow’s whereabouts by next week.’
‘Gladly, if the Free State of Prussia is footing the bill.’
‘I doubt it will stretch to a suite in the Adlon. Or the Excelsior for that matter.’
‘Shame. A room’s just become free there.’
Rath took Gennat up on his suggestion. He packed a few things and some cash, dropped the dog off with the Lennartzes, and headed west. He’d had enough of the Excelsior for now.
The hotels in Charlottenburg weren’t the cheapest but he could lay out a little extra from his own pocket. The Savoy in Fasanenstrasse was one of the most modern hotels in the city, and was located beside Kantstrasse and the Ku’damm. He took a single room for two nights and went upstairs to freshen up. When he emerged from the shower he felt rejuvenated. Perhaps not like a new man, exactly, but it was better than waking from a bad dream. In fact, it felt something like his arrival in Berlin, when he had also spent the first few nights in a hotel. Now, as then, he was alone. Perhaps he would throw himself into the city’s nightlife, since neither Weinert nor Gräf had any time for him.
From his window he looked straight onto Delphi, a dance hall in Kantstrasse which he had previously visited on duty. There were other places too. He was spoilt for choice. He opened the window, breathed in the Charlottenburg air and suddenly felt completely free.
Dusk was falling as he stepped onto the street. A number of people had gathered outside the synagogue. It seemed to be some sort of Jewish feast day, though he hadn’t any idea which.
Café Reimann wasn’t known as a dance hall, but there was a band playing, and Abraham Goldstein held court as if he owned the place. He stood up when he saw Rath and stretched out a hand.
‘Glad you could make it,’ he said. ‘It’s not the most fashionable place for our farewell gathering, but it’s become a real favourite of mine.’
‘I’m more interested in seeing you safely on your way.’
There were others at Goldstein’s table: to his left, Marion Bosetzky, former nude dancer and chambermaid, now gangster’s moll. She gave a brief nod of acknowledgement.
Goldstein gestured towards the man sitting opposite him. ‘Allow me to introduce Mister Salomon Epstein, an old friend from Brooklyn. We’re going home together.’
Rath shook the man’s hand. He looked like a scientist, thin as a rake with glasses and thinning hair.
‘Were you here on business or as a tourist?’ he asked.
‘He doesn’t understand,’ Goldstein said. ‘His parents didn’t speak German in front of him, not even Yiddish. They wanted to make a good American out of him. That’s why we’re sitting here, while inside they’re inside celebrating Rosh Hashanah.’ He pointed towards the synagogue.
‘Rosh hash what?’
‘Jewish New Year.’
‘Happy New Year! We can celebrate your departure instead. For a while, I was afraid you might apply for German citizenship.’
‘I almost did,’ Goldstein said, ‘but dear Marion here will apply for US citizenship instead.’ He laughed and winked at her. ‘Do you know what, Detective? This city of yours is pretty damn crazy. Still, I’ll be glad to leave it behind. You too, right Sally?’
Salomon Epstein, the man with the glasses, gave a wise smile when he heard his name.
‘It’s Sally you have to thank for getting rid of me,’ Goldstein said in English, patting the man’s hand. ‘He’s come to take me home.’
‘You’re welcome,’ Epstein mumbled in his unexpectedly deep bass.
‘Anyway, it’s nice to see you, Inspector,’ Goldstein grinned. ‘I wouldn’t have thought we’d end up as friends.’
‘Friends is taking it too far. I’m here on duty. To make absolutely sure you disappear.’