Rath was astonished. He was certain he hadn’t mentioned the police impersonator and his fake badge. Charly’s words flashed through his mind – but surely Dettmann had even less to do with a Ringverein than Gustav Wengler?
‘What do the Pirates have against Concordia? I thought it was Berolina they had it in for?’
‘Lapke’s decided to leave us in peace for the time being.’ Marlow inhaled appreciatively. ‘Though he’s leaning on Concordia pretty hard. Five of their members have now been killed and, according to the papers, you were the investigating officer.’
‘The Phantom.’ Rath nodded thoughtfully. ‘The victims were all linked to Concordia…’
‘No doubt some of them wouldn’t want it inscribed on their gravestones, Riemann, the Charlottenburg lawyer, for instance… but, yes, the Phantom’s victims have all been necessary in some way for Marczewski’s business deals.’
‘Polish-Paule?’
‘I wouldn’t call him that, unless you want to get yourself shot. Though he’s a perfectly charming fellow otherwise.’
‘He’s Masurian?’
‘Prussian, at any rate. Came to Berlin a few years ago from Königsberg.’
‘Then Wengler knows him from the old days.’
‘Possibly, though they’re no longer friends. Marczewski’s afraid he’s next on the Phantom’s list, and went to ground several days ago.’
‘So the Pirates are behind all the Phantom murders?’
‘Lapke’s behind them. Ever since he was released from Tegel a year ago, he seems to be on astonishingly good terms with the police.’
‘What are you saying?’
‘That it’s no coincidence he was spared by the Weisse Hand, unlike his friend Höller.’
‘You’re saying Lapke was in cahoots with the Weisse Hand?’
‘Perhaps he still is.’
‘The Weisse Hand no longer exists. We broke it last year.’
‘The man who kills on Lapke’s behalf is one of your colleagues, Inspector, believe me. Whatever name you give him.’
‘The Phantom’s a sniper; the victim from police custody had his neck broken.’
‘I’d be surprised if Lapke gave the job to someone new.’
‘So who is it?’
‘If I knew that, he’d have been exposed by now. Or killed.’
‘You’re well informed.’
‘In my line, information is the alpha and omega,’ Marlow said, and Rath remembered his father’s saying. Knowledge is power.
He fell silent and stubbed out his cigarette in the ashtray. It was about the same size as the Buick’s glove compartment. ‘Do you think that Paul Marczewski would be willing to testify against Gustav Wengler?’
‘You really want to get this Wengler, don’t you?’ Marlow said. ‘If it hurts the Pirates, you have my support. That said, I can’t imagine Marczewski will make the greatest impression in court, and he’ll hardly be crazy on the idea either. But…’ – he threw his cigarette out the window. – ‘…I’ll see what I can do.’
94
Charly hadn’t been at her desk half a day and already felt she was in a rut. At the weekend she had laboured under the illusion that she still worked for Homicide, discussing the dead man in the cells with Gereon and mentioning Dettmann by name on several more occasions. In the meantime her colleagues in G had picked up the girl gang from Wedding. Questioning had taken place while she’d been seconded to the Vaterland team, and now she had to sift through the transcripts with Karin van Almsick, looking for contradictions or inconsistencies.
Somehow she couldn’t help sympathising with these girls who threatened their fellow U-Bahn passengers with switchblades, which they took great pleasure in opening in front of their victims’ faces.
The youngest was fourteen, the oldest seventeen. All were homeless, orphaned girls trying to make ends meet. Charly couldn’t help thinking of Alex, whom she’d met a year ago. Where might she be now? Initially she’d feared she might stumble on the name Alexandra Reinhold in the transcripts, and was glad to be proved wrong. Alex, too, had stolen, and used a knife from time to time, but Charly liked her all the same. Hopefully, one way or another, she’d soon have her life back on track, along with her friend Vicky.
‘Penny for your thoughts.’ Karin van Almsick was a very nosy colleague. ‘Let me guess, you’re thinking about him?’
News of their engagement had been made public that morning in G as well as A Division. She’d received the congratulations of her colleagues, and promised to bring a cake the next day. ‘Actually, no,’ she said. ‘If I’m honest, I don’t think of Gereon much at all.’
She tried to focus on the transcripts, but her colleague wouldn’t allow it. ‘How long have you known one another? Pfeiffer from Juvenile Crime says you worked in Homicide three years ago as a stenographer.’
‘That is indeed where I met Gereon Rath. It’s plain you’re a CID officer.’
Her colleague smiled blissfully, not realising that Charly was being sarcastic. ‘How long have you been together?’
‘We were together and then we weren’t – but we got there in the end.’
Karin van Almsick gazed sympathetically. ‘How awful!’
‘There are other men out there.’
The throwaway remark was astonishing to her colleague. ‘You’re not serious?’
‘Pardon me?’
‘About there being other men. You haven’t actually…’ She seemed fit to burst.
‘Yes, there have been other men in my life. Some serious, some not so. You’ve got to be able to compare. You do it while shopping, so why not when it actually matters?’
Karin van Almsick needed a few moments to close her mouth. She was a country girl, from Wriezen or somewhere, shocked by Berlin morals, or Berlin moral depravity, as she’d no doubt have it. ‘Why don’t I make us a tea,’ she said, and smiled, obviously glad to be escaping temporarily. Charly gazed after her. Better to come out with it now than spend the next God knows how long beating about the bush.
Karin van Almsick returned from the tea-kitchen sooner than expected. The door flew open and she stood in the office, minus the teapot but short of breath and white as a sheet. ‘There’s someone outside,’ she said.
‘So?’
She took a deep breath, looking as though she’d just encountered the Devil himself. ‘A Negro,’ she said at length. ‘Charly… there’s a Negro outside who wants to speak with you.’
95
Rath couldn’t bear the waiting, but what choice did he have? What a crackpot idea, going to Gennat now! Did he really think he’d be waved straight through? But that was just it, he wasn’t thinking, or at least, he wasn’t thinking straight. He had knocked, and Trudchen Steiner had motioned for him to take a seat, and so now here he was, and there was nothing he could do.
The mood he was in, it was torture. There were a thousand things he’d rather be doing than waiting for an audience with Gennat, but perhaps it was better he couldn’t do them now. Better he couldn’t storm into her office and ask who the hell she ate lunch with whenever he turned her down.
Finishing with Marlow, he had wanted a quick snack before returning to the Castle. He’d never have gone near Aschinger if he thought she’d be there. Instinctively he sought cover behind a fat woman in the queue, his guilty conscience at work, as ever, following his latest rendezvous with the gangster.