With that the doctor swept out of the room and down the stairs, white coat flapping in his wake. Rath struggled to keep pace. Karthaus didn’t say another word until they had passed through the swing doors into the autopsy room. ‘You do realise that was your hotly anticipated written report I was working on?’
‘So?’
‘I was hoping to have it ready for you by this afternoon. Now you’ll have to wait for the internal mail tomorrow.’
‘I prefer my reports to be delivered orally.’
The pathologist shook his head as he sat behind a messy desk and offered Rath a rickety wooden chair. He straightened his reading glasses. ‘So,’ he began. ‘The results of the blood analysis.’ He glanced at a sheet of paper, then reached for another. ‘I’ve found evidence of an unusual substance in the dead man’s bloodstream.’
‘Unusual in what respect?’
‘It’s something you might expect to observe in the South American jungle. It’s called tubocurarine.’
‘Tubo… what?’
‘Curarine. We have the Indians from South America to thank for it. Savages in the Amazon jungle hunt with a blowpipe, killing their prey with a deadly arrow poison, curare. The stuff paralyses the musculature, affecting a victim’s breathing. The speed depends on the dosage.’
‘Are you saying we should be looking for an Indian? Why don’t we start in the Wild West Bar in Haus Vaterland?’
‘You can spare me the unhelpful jokes. Now, let me finish.’ Karthaus actually seemed offended. ‘There are different forms of the curare poison, one of which is tubocurarine…’
‘…which you found in the dead man’s bloodstream.’
‘Right. The interesting thing is that it is currently being trialled in modern medicine for use during surgical procedures…’
‘A poison?’
‘…as a muscle relaxant during operations on the abdomen and thorax. Believe it or not, by loosening the muscles, tubocurarine makes a number of subsequent procedures possible. You just have to administer the correct dose. And, of course, monitor the patient’s breathing.’
‘Then our dead man was given an incorrect dose.’
‘Difficult to say, but since we are searching for a cause of death, and, despite the symptoms, drowning can be ruled out, I would say our man died as a result of respiratory paralysis.’
Rath nodded thoughtfully. ‘That means someone thrust a syringe into Lamkau’s jugular vein, which first put him out of action, then killed him.’
Karthaus nodded.
‘And while all this was going on,’ Rath continued, ‘this same someone tried to drown the poor bastard? That doesn’t make any sense.’
‘Maybe he only tortured him. Water torture has been used since the Spanish Inquisition. The guilty party believes they are drowning and suffers mortal terror.’
‘How does it work?’
‘The tormenta de toca? First the guilty party is held fast, then a cloth is placed over their mouth and nose while water is poured over it.’
‘How much water?’
‘A few litres are enough. You just have to make sure the cloth stays wet. The gag reflex takes care of the rest.’
‘You’re frighteningly well informed, Doctor. Should I be concerned?’
Karthaus was unmoved. ‘The history of criminal interrogation is fascinating stuff. Particularly from a medical standpoint.’
‘I see.’ Rath resisted the urge to shake his head. With his gaunt figure and sunken cheeks, Karthaus really did give him the creeps. He felt more at home with the easy-going Dr Schwartz and his macabre humour. ‘Something I don’t understand… Torture is about extracting information from your victim. Why would you administer an anaesthetic beforehand? A lethal one at that?’
‘Anaesthetic isn’t quite right,’ Karthaus said. ‘Tubocurarine doesn’t act as an analgesic. It paralyses your musculature, but you remain fully conscious and sensitive to pain. Even if you can’t move, can’t even speak, in fact.’
Rath gave a shudder. ‘I just hope something like that doesn’t happen in theatre.’
‘You’ll laugh,’ Karthaus said, making a deadly serious face, ‘but it already has. Unfortunately the patients couldn’t say anything during the procedure, because they were completely paralysed at the time.’
‘Knock it off, Doctor. Lucky for me I’ve never had to go under the knife.’
‘No invasive procedure is devoid of risk, a fact any colleague will confirm.’ Karthaus shrugged again. ‘At least I can open up my clients with peace of mind.’
There was no trace of irony in the doctor’s voice.
9
He was too late, damn it! Had he learned of Lamkau’s death sooner, none of this would have happened, but they hadn’t telephoned him until this morning. They must be going out of their minds in Treuburg, but what else could he do? The green Opel arrived just as he was about to drop in on the widow to offer his condolences. You could tell the pair who got out were cops from a hundred metres, so he had continued down Ordensmeisterstrasse as if it were part of his beat, inwardly cursing the bastards as he went.
With any luck they wouldn’t find anything, but he couldn’t be sure. After all, these were Gennat’s boys, homicide detectives from Alex. The kind that didn’t miss a thing.
Goddamn it!
He’d wait until the cops had disappeared then take a look himself. Perhaps Lamkau had managed to hide the book. If he was smart he’d have chucked it long ago. Still, he couldn’t be that clever, otherwise he’d have survived all this. Whatever this was. They still weren’t sure, even if the death notices were plain enough. Somebody knew; the question was, who?
There was movement on the other side of the road. The cops were returning to the Opel, laden with cardboard boxes. It was exactly as he’d feared. They were taking everything back to Alex to sift at their leisure.
‘Why can’t Rath look at this himself,’ he heard one say. ‘What are we, bookkeepers now?’
‘That’s clearly what the widow thought. It felt like she expected us to put her papers in order.’
‘Well, more fool her.’
They heaved the boxes into the car and went back inside, accompanied by the sound of the great mutt Lamkau had acquired after Wawerka’s death. For a moment he was tempted to take a look, but the car was parked in the courtyard next to the delivery vans, and would be visible from the office. Besides, the cur would sound the alarm. He resolved to stay where he was, in the shadow of an advertising pillar. The men emerged several more times to load boxes before driving off.
He briefly considered going inside to the widow, even if it was no longer necessary. The two officers had been kind enough to say where the documents were headed.
10
Erika Voss was still waiting to finish for the day. Through the open door Rath could see Lange’s and Gräf’s desks were already deserted, in their place were around a dozen cardboard boxes full of files. ‘Detective Gräf said to tell you that examining the Lamkau accounts proved trickier than expected,’ she explained. ‘They seized a number of papers instead.’
Rath nodded and hung up his hat. Kirie pitter-pattered towards him and sniffed his hands.
‘And a lady telephoned a few moments ago,’ she continued, looking at a sheet of paper. ‘From G Division.’
‘Very good,’ Rath intoned casually. ‘Did she say what it was about?’
‘No. She said she’d call back.’