She read in his face that he was the one who had shot Samarin. She looked at him and shook her head.
“Take me to my husband,” she said to Philipp. “I want to be with him when he wakes up.”
They left. Welker stayed. “I’ll wait for your friend. I want Nägelsbach to have whatever he needs-the best of everything, whatever the expense. You must believe me: I am terribly sorry he was shot.” He looked at me as if he really were terribly sorry.
I nodded.
8 A sensitive little fellow
Outside the hospital I hoped to find a taxi at the stand. But it was still too early in the morning.
A man came up to me. At first I didn’t recognize him. It was Karl-Heinz Ulbrich. “Come along, I’ll drive you home.”
I was too sick and too tired to turn his offer down. He took me to his car-no longer a beige Fiesta, but a light green Polo. He opened the door for me and I got in. The streets were empty, but he didn’t exceed the speed limit.
“You don’t look too good.”
What could I say?
He laughed. “Not that I’m surprised, after all you’ve been through in the last twenty-four hours.”
Again I said nothing.
“The water tower meeting-that was impressive. But in the park you had more luck than brains.”
“You really aren’t my son. You might be my deceased wife’s son, but I’m not your father. When you… when you were conceived, I was in Poland, far away from my wife.”
He wasn’t swayed. “I imagine you already know that the men in the blue Mercedes are Russians. They’re from Moscow, and have been in Germany for two or three years, first in Berlin, then in Frankfurt, and now here. I spoke to them in Russian, but their German isn’t bad.”
“They really trained you to be a pro in shadowing.”
“Shadowing was always my specialty. Do you see now that we’d make a great team?”
“The two of us a team? From what I can tell, you’re working not with me but against me.”
He was hurt. “It’s not like you’re letting me work with you. Anyway, it’s always good to know as much as possible.”
I didn’t want to hurt his feelings. “It’s got nothing to do with you. It’s just that I’m not a team player. I’ve never been one, never wanted to be one, and in my old age have no intention of becoming one.” Then I felt there was no reason not to tell him the whole truth. “Not to mention that the days of small detective agencies are numbered. The only reason I’ve been able to stay above water is that I know everything so well here-the area, the people, their way of life-and because I know to whom I can turn for help, and when. But nowadays that’s not enough. The few cases I still get barely pay for my office. If there were two of us, we wouldn’t be generating any more work.”
He drove along the Luisenpark. The police had gone by now. The lawn, the bushes, and the trees were serene in the gray of dawn.
“Couldn’t you… I don’t know whether you’re not my father or just don’t want to be. I’d like to see a picture of my mother and find out what kind of person she was. And if you’re not my father, then who might be? You must have some notion. I know you want me to leave you alone, but you can’t just pretend I don’t exist, that we don’t exist!”
“We?”
“You don’t have to keep asking the same question. You know what I’m talking about. To you we’re a nuisance. You’d be happiest if we’d all stayed in the East and you would neither see us nor hear another word from us.” He was hurt again. What sensitive little fellows the Stasi recruited!
“That’s not true. I just got back from Cottbus and found it to be a pretty little town. I’m simply not your father. Regardless of where you’re from, I’m not your father. Where are you from?”
“I’m from Prenzlau, north of Berlin.”
I glanced at him sideways. His dutiful, hurt face. His neatly parted hair. His beige anorak. His shining rayon pants and light gray loafers. I’d rather have bought him something to wear than tell him about Klara. But I could see there was no way to avoid it.
“How long will you be in Mannheim? How about dropping by next Sunday? But give me a little space till then.”
He nodded. “Will four o’clock do?”
We agreed on four. We pulled into the Richard-Wagner-Strasse. He got out and hurried over to my side to open the door.
“Thank you.”
“I hope you feel better soon.”
9 Othello
I stayed in bed all day. Turbo curled up on my legs and purred. At noon Brigitte dropped by with some chicken soup. In the evening I got a call from Philipp. His conscience was bothering him that he hadn’t sent me home on Sunday. Had my heart been up to all this? Nägelsbach was doing well enough; I could visit him on Wednesday. It would be good for the three of us to talk. “The police didn’t come by today. Can you imagine us staying out of the fray? I can’t.”
But it seemed that we were staying out of the fray. Welker was the only one questioned by the police. He told them about Gregor Samarin’s Russian origin, his trips to Russia, the six months he spent there, his shady contacts, and his attempts to deposit large amounts of cash at Weller & Welker for supposed Russian investors. The police found the gun with which Gregor had been shot, a Malakov, in a trash can in the Luisenpark near the entrance by Werderstrasse. Samarin was found wearing a straitjacket; he had been shot in the back. An execution. People living near the park had heard shots, car doors slamming, cars driving away-a gang affair.
The Tuesday edition of the Mannheimer Morgen sported the headline EXECUTION IN LUISENPARK, and the Wednesday edition GANG WAR IN MANNHEIM. A few days later the papers wondered whether the Russian Mafia had taken hold in Mannheim ’s and Ludwigshafen ’s underworld. But by then it was only a small item.
Philipp and I sat by Nägelsbach’s hospital bed and were strangely diffident, like boys who played a prank they have gotten away with, but for which someone else had to pay the price. The boys hadn’t intended that. But it was too late to fix things. Probably Welker should be sentenced. Probably Nägelsbach and Philipp should be disciplined. Probably I should be charged with reckless something or other.
“Damn it all!” Philipp said. “In fact, I grow more optimistic every day that the police won’t come looking for us. Today I’m twice as optimistic as I was on Monday, and by tomorrow I’ll be four times as optimistic.” He grinned.
“I’m not sure you’ll see eye-to-eye with me,” Nägelsbach said, looking at us apologetically, “but I don’t want to keep the police out of this. I’ve always been on the level in matters concerning me or the law. It’s true I discussed my cases with Reni, which I shouldn’t have. But she’s discretion personified, and I’ve had a case or two in my time that I couldn’t have cracked without her help. But this is something else. Welker has to be charged. What Samarin did to him is no doubt an extenuating circumstance, but at the end of the day a judge must decide whether Welker is to serve a few years, end up on parole, or be acquitted.”
“What does your wife think?” Philipp asked.
“Her view is…” He blushed. “She says it’s a matter of my soul, that she and I can handle the consequences, and that she’s prepared to go out and work if it comes to that.”
“A matter of your soul?” Philipp said, looking at Nägelsbach as if he had gone mad. “What about my soul?”
Nägelsbach looked at him despondently. “I’ve spent my life making sure that people are called to account for their actions. I can’t suddenly-”
“The law doesn’t expect you to go to the police or see to it that Welker is charged,” I cut in. “You can be on the level with the law if you don’t go.”