At the window he lit a Camel cigarette. Clouds were building over the station roof, but the sun had fought its way through and was shining on the crowds in front of the round brick arches. People were streaming outside, with and without suitcases, waving taxis over or heading for the bus stop and tram. So, this was Berlin. He blew smoke against the glass and gazed across the city. Not knowing exactly what awaited him filled him with unease. Had he really made the long journey just to see a man about whom the only thing he knew was his name?
Hearing a noise from the bedroom he pressed the cigarette into the ashtray and reached for his waistband, still not accustomed to being unarmed. He took the paperweight from the desk and tiptoed towards the connecting door, bronze bird ready to strike. It seemed unlikely that it was one of Fat Moe’s boys. The man’s influence didn’t stretch this far, but Abe Goldstein had never lost anything by exercising caution when the situation demanded. He looked through the half-open door. Against the end wall was an enormous bed, covered with a champagne-coloured satin duvet and flanked by two night-tables. To the right, next to the dressing table, a door led to the bathroom. It was open, and in the frame he could make out a nicely rounded ass belonging to a stooped figure in a black dress and white apron. A chambermaid, running behind schedule, was draping white hand-towels over a stand. He savoured the view for a few seconds before audibly clearing his throat. The maid wheeled around, but Goldstein could see from her eyes that she had wanted to be caught. She was out for a tip.
‘My apologies, Sir.’ She curtseyed and gazed at the floor, but there was a cheeky glint in her eyes when she looked up again. ‘Excuse me, Sir. I’m Marion, your chambermaid,’ she said in English. ‘Ihr Zimmermädchen.’
She clearly knew that this latest guest was American, and her English wasn’t bad.
‘I appreciate chambermaids who go about their duties conscientiously,’ he said in German. ‘Don’t let me keep you from your work.’
‘Actually, I’m finished here.’ She gave him another of her perfectly innocent glances. ‘If my services are no longer required.’
He fetched his wad of dollar bills and handed her three notes. ‘I’m sure I’ll call on you again.’
‘Ask for Marion. I have to go now.’
She pocketed the notes as if a tip of that size were the most natural thing in the world, and wedged a stack of hand-towels under her arm. Her profile wasn’t bad either. She brushed casually against him as she squeezed past, and Goldstein felt the blood pulsing between his legs. He followed her into the drawing room, but she had already opened the door to the corridor.
‘Marion!’ he said. She came to a halt in the doorframe and waited. An elderly gentleman passed behind her along the corridor and squinted over curiously. To be on the safe side, Goldstein switched to English. ‘May I see you again, Marion?’ he said. ‘You know, I could use some company in this town…’
She stood in the door and gazed up at him with her big blue eyes, in such a way that he was suddenly very aware of his erection. No doubt she could see it too. Not that he minded.
‘I have to go, but I finish at four.’
‘I’ll be here. Just give me a knock.’
4
Rigaer Strasse was not a pretty street, but this was its ugliest point, right here. It was as if Kalli had deliberately chosen the lousiest spot in a district not famed for its charm. Alex had taken the 9 to Baltenplatz and walked the rest of the way; now she put down the heavy bag and stood in front of the display window. Eberhard Kallweit Bought and Sold was painted in white across the glass. All manner of junk was gathering dust behind the windowpane: a gramophone, a typewriter, an electric vacuum cleaner, a telephone, four chairs that weren’t part of a set, and a rubber plant. None of it had been sold in the months Alex had been coming here. Kalli made his money from items that weren’t on display, and didn’t show up in the accounts.
There were no customers inside. She picked up her bag and climbed the stairs.
A rasping, high-pitched ring announced her as she pressed down on the door handle and entered. Kalli was lurking behind the counter in his grey overalls. His best shopkeeper’s grin froze when he recognised her. For a fraction of a second, he seemed paralysed by the shock, but then he said quietly, as if afraid somebody might hear. ‘Are you mad, coming here like this? What if I have customers?’
‘You weren’t at Krehmann’s yesterday.’
‘You’ve got some nerve! You went to Krehmann’s after everything that’s happened? After that monumental cock-up of yours! The police are after you. You realise that, don’t you?’
‘Cock-up?’ Alex couldn’t believe it. Kalli was an arsehole. ‘A cock-up, that’s what you’re calling it? Benny’s dead for fuck’s sake.’
‘What’s he doing scrambling about on department store fronts?’
‘Trying not to get caught. If that pig hadn’t kicked him off, he’d still be alive.’
‘What the hell are you talking about?’
‘There was a cop after him. He stepped on Benny’s fingers until he couldn’t hold on anymore. That’s why he fell. That pig killed him, and I had to stand by and watch.’
Kalli shook his head. ‘I should never have let myself get involved with you kids.’ He seemed to be speaking to the cash register. ‘I ought to have known it would go belly-up.’
‘You’re the one who sent us to KaDeWe,’ she shouted. ‘We’ve never had any trouble otherwise. There were no cops in Tietz or Karstadt. It was you who insisted we turn over KaDeWe.’
‘What are you trying to say?’
‘That you sent us in because you wanted the goods.’ She placed the bag on the counter. ‘And we got them for you.’
Kalli snatched the bag from the counter. ‘Are you crazy, walking around here with that? Coming into my shop?’
‘Since you weren’t at Krehmann’s, I thought I’d bring it round. Jewellery and watches, as agreed.’
‘The agreement was you wouldn’t get caught.’
‘They caught Benny. They didn’t catch me.’
Kalli gave a rueful shrug. ‘What am I supposed to do with all this? It’s worthless after all the commotion. No one can shift it, not even me.’
‘Commotion?’ Alex shouted louder. ‘Benny died for this and you’re telling me you don’t want it? Am I hearing you right?’
‘Don’t get so worked up, Alex. Let’s take a look, but not here, out back.’
The little room behind the shop smelled of onions and beer. Kalli cleared away a plate and two bottles and laid the bag on the table. From the breast pocket of his jacket he fetched a battered leather case, opened it and fumbled out a pair of glasses. In his overalls and crooked wire-rimmed spectacles he looked like a mad chemistry professor. He sat at the table and held each watch in front of his lenses.
‘Only watches,’ he said after a while, sounding disappointed. ‘No jewellery?’
‘The cops have it. It was in Benny’s bag.’
Kalli shook his head. ‘That stuff about the cops killing Benny. Is it really true?’
‘I saw it myself. And… he told me before he died. Benny told me the man trampled on his fingers until he couldn’t hold on.’