‘What did Adamek tell you to say?’
‘That you’d requested backup, more men to arrest the Kaubuk. I thought Adamek would stay with you. He did go back into the forest. How was I to know Grigat had put him up to it?’
‘Well, anyway, I survived.’
‘And now you’re back in Berlin.’
‘Indeed I am, and I have news.’ He told Kowalski the whole story and, though disappointed the Kaubuk wasn’t their man, Kowalski was flattered that Rath had kept him in the loop. Indeed, that he had telephoned at all. ‘Wengler, a killer? Are you sure?’
‘More or less. Only, I don’t have proof.’
‘There must be something out there.’
‘I wouldn’t bet on it after twelve years. Besides, if you listen to my superiors, Wengler’s a victim who needs protection. For now we have to concentrate on Polakowski. After that, we’ll see.’
Kowalski hesitated. ‘I wanted to tell you, Sir, how much I enjoyed working with you.’ Rath didn’t know how to respond. No one had ever told him that before. He mumbled a hasty goodbye and hung up.
Just as he was contemplating taking Kirie for a stroll, Kronberg appeared in Homicide. Rath joined the others in Böhm’s office so that he could listen to the forensics man. Charly was nowhere to be seen; what on earth could she and Gennat still be discussing?
‘The newspaper scraps from Janke’s,’ Kronberg said, ‘are identical to two death notices found in the Wengler flat. The Lamkau notice, and the Simoneit notice. The Lamkau notice from the Kreuz-Zeitung is a 100 per cent match. Regarding Simoneit, we can, at the very least, confirm that the paper is the same as that used to print the Volkszeitung für die Ost- und Westprignitz. There are more details here.’ He laid the file on the table.
‘Many thanks for your efficiency, Herr Kronberg,’ Böhm said. The forensics man nodded modestly.
Typical, Rath thought: has his people work through the night, then takes all the glory himself. Böhm was already hunched over the report when Kronberg produced a second file from his leather bag.
‘I have something else,’ he said. ‘It looks as though we’ve been able to trace the source of the tubocurarine.’ That, too, was typical of Kronberg. He always saved the most important news for last.
Strangely enough, they had got there by way of the red handkerchiefs. These didn’t, as previously suspected, hail from Berlin, but rather, Königsberg, from a large quantity of fabric and off-the-peg clothing that had been stolen two years before from the Junkerstrasse-based Moser firm. The guilty party was a notorious burglary ring that had somehow managed to evade justice, despite its methods being well known to Königsberg Police.
Which was how colleagues there also knew that the same ring had broken into the University Clinic two nights later and, besides various drugs and narcotic agents, made off with large quantities of an anaesthetic that was the focus of current institute research. A muscle relaxant based on the curare poison of the South American Indians, obtained from the pareira root. Its name: tubocurarine.
Polakowski, it seemed, had obtained the handkerchiefs and narcotics from one and the same source.
Rath took Kirie by the lead and went out. At Alexanderplatz he found a telephone booth and put in another call to Königsberg.
Not even the dog was there. Without Kirie and Gereon, Charly felt that much lonelier at her desk. She was still in the outer office with Erika Voss, but got along decidedly better with her than during her first days in Homicide. No doubt due to the absence of a certain Gereon Rath.
‘The inspector’s taken the dog for a walk,’ the secretary said, and for a moment, Charly was tempted to head to Alexanderplatz in search of them, but just then Böhm bustled through the door to ask that she have copies of Polakowski’s photo made and distributed to all major police stations in Prussia. ‘Plus a dozen to Warrants here at Alex.’
She went upstairs to Photographics, which was housed on the same floor as ED. The lab workers were not known for their efficiency, which was why it was best to wait in person and make a nuisance of yourself, otherwise it could take an age to get your prints.
This, then, would be her final act in A Division: having copies made and sent to all and sundry. Nice. Still, it would be a damn sight more interesting than sharing an office with Karin van Almsick again on Monday.
Then there was this business with Dettmann, the scent of his aftershave, and the thought it had triggered. Perhaps she was going mad, but the idea, or, rather, the images, that had flashed through her mind were so realistic it was as if she had lived through them herself. A police officer breaking a prisoner’s neck.
She had seen these images often enough in the last few days; it was how her mind worked when speculating on the particulars of a crime. Poor Dietrich Assmann had been murdered over and over again in her imagination, always with the same jerking motion, but now, for the first time, the killer had a face.
91
By the time Rath returned, most colleagues had already finished for the weekend, but Charly sat alone at her desk bagging photos. He recognised Jakub Polakowski’s mugshot. ‘Can you send one to police headquarters in Königsberg?’
‘Done!’ She showed him an envelope, addressed to the commissioner.
‘Then send another, care of Assistant Detective Kowalski.’
‘No problem. We have more than enough prints.’ She passed him a photo and an envelope. ‘You can take the address from the previous.’
He added a few lines of thanks on lettered paper to go with the photograph. By the time he was finished Charly had bagged at least another five prints and cover notes, but she seemed strangely brusque.
‘I’m sorry,’ he said. ‘I didn’t mean to treat you like my secretary…’ He showed her the letter to Kowalski. ‘See. I’m not so useless after all.’
‘It’s fine,’ she said, but her face told a different story.
‘Has Dettmann been bothering you again?’
‘No, no. Don’t worry. He’s been avoiding me actually.’
‘It’s better that way.’ He felt a certain pride. Perhaps his performance in Dettmann’s office had achieved something after all.
Charly forced a smile. ‘Soon there’ll be no chance of Dettmann running into me, apart from in the canteen, perhaps.’ She hesitated a moment. ‘I… On Monday, I’ll be returning to G Division.’
‘Your guest appearance is over?’ he said, trying to sound sympathetic.
In truth he was relieved. He had been unhappy working so closely with her. It felt restrictive somehow, as if his every move were being monitored, when in fact they’d only spent three days together on the Vaterland team. The rest of the time he’d been gadding about in East Prussia. Thinking of her curiosity, and his fondness for secrecy… well, perhaps it was no bad thing she was being reassigned. But seeing her face, he knew he had to comfort her. He took her in his arms, and in the same instant she began sobbing.
This was the second time in a matter of weeks when, normally, she’d have fought back tears at all costs. For a moment he wondered if she might be pregnant…
He held her, and she had a good cry on his shoulder. ‘Sorry, Gereon,’ she said after a while, smiling again amidst the tears. ‘I’m just a silly goose.’
He dabbed at her damp cheeks with his handkerchief. ‘No,’ he said. ‘You’re not a goose.’
It took a moment for the penny to drop, then she started banging her fists against his chest. ‘You cad,’ she said, but she was still smiling. ‘I did know it was only temporary, but somehow it got me when Gennat said I’d be back with Superintendent Wieking from Monday.’ She shrugged. ‘He’s right, though. The investigation’s as good as closed. Finding Jakub Polakowski is a job for Warrants now.’