Now Charly was certain. They had found his hideout; it was really him.
Hartmut Janke, the guard who had provided information so willingly in Haus Vaterland, had previously been known as Jakub Polakowski, and he had killed four men.
88
Rath saw them as the train pulled in: a dog and its mistress. Was he imagining things or did Charly look ever so slightly peeved? She certainly wasn’t carrying a bouquet of flowers. Quite the role reversal, he thought. Three weeks ago he and Kirie had waited here, perhaps even on the same platform, although on that occasion her train had arrived from the west.
He waved, but they still hadn’t seen him. Of course, she had every right to be peeved. Even so, he hoped she was a little glad to see him, just as he was glad to see her standing there with Kirie.
He was among the first to alight from the train and, as he did so, a smile appeared on her face after all. There you are, see!
He pushed past the other travellers streaming onto the platform, until, finally, he reached them. Kirie wagged her tail wildly, dancing excitedly back and forth, and Charly gazed at him sternly, smiling all the while. He took her in his arms and held her fast, buried his nose in her hair and breathed in her scent like an addict. ‘I’m sorry,’ he whispered in her ear.
‘About what?’
‘Everything. About being away so long, about your not knowing where I was.’ He looked at her. ‘I was missing in action.’
‘You’re telling me.’
‘Seriously. I got lost in the forest. I would have died on the moors, but for…’ He broke off. ‘I’d rather tell you at home over a cup of coffee.’
‘Coffee’s waiting.’
‘Great – what about Polakowski?’ They descended the steps to the car.
‘Gave notice to his employer and cleared his flat.’
‘Hopefully he didn’t smell a rat. Or perhaps he’s en route to his next vic… Where’s Wengler?’
‘Danzig.’
‘Danzig? His home city.’
‘We suspect he’s visiting family there. Local CID are informed. They met him at the train station, and won’t let him out of their sight.’
‘We should send on a description of Polakowski, ideally with a photo.’
‘What photo?’
‘From his prison file.’
‘You said Gustav Wengler was a killer?’
‘I’d stake my next promotion on it.’
‘Whenever that might be.’ Charly laughed, then grew serious again. ‘You know he’s wriggled his way out of this bootlegging business. He shopped his operations manager, Dietrich Assmann.’
‘The dead man from the cells?’
‘Precisely.’
‘Then Wengler’s behind his murder, too. Perhaps he told this police impersonator to use my name, as a little payback for making his life hell in Treuburg.’ He looked at Charly. ‘Let’s hope he can’t wriggle his way out of a murder rap. He’s already eliminated one potential witness.’
‘What do you mean?’
‘Maria Cofalka, the librarian from Treuburg. The trouble is, we can’t prove anything. The only person who saw Gustav Wengler killing his fiancée twelve years ago wouldn’t make much of an impression in court. That’s assuming we can lure him out of his forest in the first place.’
‘Radlewski?’
‘An oddball, for sure, but no killer. If he has any role in this case, it’s as a witness. At least, in theory.’
They reached the Buick, which Charly had parked beneath the railway bridge on Hardenbergstrasse. Rath was so busy stowing his case on the dickey that he failed to notice the three men until it was too late. All carried pistols.
‘I hope you’re not going to make any trouble, Rath,’ said one.
He turned around. Wilhelm Böhm’s service revolver was trained on him.
‘What the hell is this? You’re arresting me? When I’d have come in straight after breakfast!’
‘Better safe than sorry.’ Böhm gestured towards the road where a green Opel had pulled over. Rath started towards it. Kirie didn’t understand what was happening, and ran back and forth between master and Buick. Charly was inconsolable.
‘I’m sorry, Gereon. I had no idea. They must have followed me.’ She threw Böhm a hostile glance, and suddenly Rath knew things weren’t half as bad as they seemed. For the first time they shared a common enemy: Wilhelm Böhm. It was almost enough to draw a smile. Maybe she was starting to realise what a bastard he was.
He sat on the rear seat of the green Opel, and greeted the driver. ‘Mertens. I’m sorry you were awakened so early on my account.’
‘Don’t worry about it, Sir.’
A plain-clothes officer whom Rath didn’t recognise threw his case into the boot, and Böhm heaved his heavy frame onto the rear seat. ‘Looks like you’ll be taking your breakfast at headquarters,’ he said, and signalled for Mertens to start.
In the rear mirror Rath saw Charly and Kirie standing next to the Buick, growing ever smaller until a bus crossed Hardenbergstrasse and they disappeared from view.
89
At least Böhm hadn’t put cuffs on him.
‘Are you actually arresting me?’ Rath asked as the car passed the roundabout by the Gedächtniskirche.
‘I have a warrant, but I’m appealing to your common sense.’
‘Sir, this is ridiculous! Arresting me like a criminal. Somewhere out there, someone is dying with laughter.’
‘The magistrate saw grounds for a murder charge. That isn’t to say I share his opinion.’
‘Then why are you arresting me?’
‘Because I can,’ Böhm growled. The rest of the journey passed in silence, but when Rath saw the cake tray in Gennat’s office he knew everything would be all right, in spite of Buddha’s frosty greeting.
‘Inspector Rath,’ he said. ‘Do we really have to arrest you to make you submit your report?’
‘It’s a simple misunderstanding. I…’
Gennat interrupted him. ‘It is anything but a misunderstanding. We had no other way of ending your game of hide-and-seek. Now, will you please tell us what is going on? What have you been doing in East Prussia? Then we might understand why Dietrich Assmann had to die, and the charges against you can be dropped.’
‘With respect, Sir, and as I’ve already said to Böhm here, I’d have come in straight after breakf…’
‘Well,’ Buddha said. ‘What’s wrong with having your breakfast here?’ He poured coffee. ‘I hope you had a good trip.’
Rath sat. ‘Yes, Sir, thank you. At least there was no flying involved.’ He lit an Overstolz and took a sip of coffee. For the moment he ignored the cake Gennat had shovelled on his plate, and focused on telling his story from beginning to end. The only details he omitted were the exact circumstances of Hella Rickert’s theft.
By the time he’d finished, Gennat had demolished three slices of cake. ‘You’re certain about this Anna von Mathée’s death?’
‘Quite certain. Radlewski would have no cause to implicate an innocent man. In fact he blames himself for failing to prevent Anna’s murder. I think these diaries were a way of alleviating his guilty conscience. There’s no reason to doubt them.’
Gennat agreed, and for once even Böhm seemed convinced.
‘So this Radlewski saved your life,’ Gennat said. ‘And you’re certain that Polakowski is the man with four people on his conscience?’
‘Working as a guard in Haus Vaterland he’d have opportunity. There was no need for him to leave the crime scene afterwards, because no one suspected him.’
‘Do you have a photo?’ Böhm asked.
‘In the prison file – in my suitcase.’