Zientek’s gaze flitted between the brownshirts and Rath, as if wondering who to pick a fight with: a CID inspector or auxiliary officers who had powerful backers of their own. At length he resolved to sit down. ‘There is no way this man is fit for questioning. I agree with you there.’
Rath was glad of the support, even if Zientek’s motive clearly lay in being rid of the SA and their prisoner as soon as possible, so that he could continue working through the list of Communists. Erwin Zientek, Rath had observed, was a police officer who liked to finish on time.
‘As I said, this man belongs in a hospital,’ Rath said.
‘We’re under strict orders to return the prisoner to Papestrasse,’ the Scharführer grumbled.
‘You have an infirmary there?’
‘No, but…’
‘Then I order that he be taken to hospital. Under close supervision. I’ll hold you personally responsible if Prisoner Juretzka doesn’t return here fit for questioning within three days.’
The Scharführer stood to attention. ‘Aye, aye, Sir!’
Time and again Rath was astonished at the effect of a few barked instructions. Pretend you were on the parade ground and even the unruly Berliners clicked their heels. The Scharführer stepped forward, unfolded the docket and set it on the desk.
‘What am I supposed to do with that?’ Rath asked.
‘I need a signature, Sir, to certify that we delivered the prisoner to headquarters…’ His finger moved to the second column. ‘… and here to confirm your instruction that he be taken to hospital.’
A quarter of an hour later, Rath sat in Gennat’s outer office and felt his stomach rumble. Trudchen Steiner, Buddha’s long-standing secretary, was heating up sausages. A large pot steamed on the electric stove in the corner of the room.
‘Can you hold the fort for a moment, Zientek?’ Rath had said, after the SA men had departed with the unfortunate Juretzka. ‘I need to inform Superintendent Gennat.’
‘Fine. So long as it doesn’t become a habit.’
A response like that, Rath wondered why he had bothered to ask.
It was almost lunch by the time Gennat could see him. ‘Just a moment of your time, Sir.’
He was invited to sit on the green sofa. There was no cake, and no sausage either. Rath was brief and to the point.
‘You want your old case back?’ Gennat asked, and Rath nodded. Buddha furrowed his brow. ‘Your plan does you credit, Inspector, but it isn’t as simple as that.’
‘I never said it was, Sir, but you should know that this needless interrogation of Communists can continue without our support. Most are either in custody or have been interrogated already. There can no longer be any question of a Red threat.’
‘We are in agreement there, but the commissioner will see things differently.’ Buddha shrugged his heavy shoulders. ‘You’re not the only man I’ve loaned to 1A, and, believe me, you’re not the only one who wants out. I speak with Herr von Levetzow every day to request my men back, but it’s tricky.’
‘I understand that several men have been recalled.’
‘For new investigations. Resurrecting a case that’s been shelved is nigh-on impossible.’
‘Try, at least.’
‘I am trying, Inspector. Every day, but I don’t want you to get your hopes up.’
Rath went to the door and tipped his hat. ‘Please excuse the interruption, Sir.’
At least he hadn’t sacrificed his entire lunchbreak. After a brief turn with Kirie, he went to Aschinger to pick up a few Bouletten and made for a free telephone booth at Alexanderplatz train station. He was in luck: Weinert was still at his desk.
39
It seemed barely credible that Köpenick was part of Berlin. The S-Bahn terminus was in Spindlersfeld, meaning Charly had to cover the remaining distance by foot.
Gereon’s car might have made things easier, but she hadn’t mentioned her trip to him. No one was to know. She had feigned illness again to Karin, and by now it was scarcely a lie. She actually felt sick when she arrived for work in the morning, to be greeted by her colleague’s goggle eyes, her blissful smile and her idotic, naive remarks. As for what lay on her desk…
Köpenick Police Station was in the 241st precinct. Schönlinder Strasse, ten minutes’ walk from the S-Bahn. The man at the gate couldn’t help, or didn’t want to. ‘Böhm, you say?’
‘Detective Chief Inspector Böhm. Probably been here a week now.’
‘Chief inspector? Highest-ranking officer is Detective Brenner.’
‘Brenner? Then take me to him.’
‘Aren’t you easy to beat down? Chief inspector to detective in three seconds.’
He told her where Brenner’s office was and she knocked. The man behind the desk looked familiar. Frank Brenner had worked as a detective inspector at Alex a few years back, before disciplinary proceedings set him on a different path.
‘Detective Brenner,’ she said.
The man looked up and raised his eyebrows. ‘If it isn’t young Ritter. What brings you here?’
‘Cadet Ritter wishes to speak with Officer Böhm.’
‘One of your fellow trainees?’
Charly forced a smile. ‘I only know he works here. I was passing and wanted to pay him a visit.’
‘You were passing Köpenick? It isn’t often you hear that.’
Charly shrugged. ‘A girlfriend.’
She didn’t know a soul in Köpenick; she’d last driven through sometime in summer on her return from the Müggelsee. For some reason she’d never actually stopped here, though it was quite pretty with its waterfront, castle and old town, and its town hall, where a simple shoemaker had once shown the Prussians and the world where blind obedience can lead.
‘A girlfriend, I see. Then Wilhelm Böhm is a boyfriend…’
‘An old colleague. As you know. Don’t you want to tell me where he is?’
‘I do, I do.’ Brenner chewed on his cigar. ‘But I’m afraid he’s no longer here.’
‘Has he been transferred back to Alex?’
‘No, of course he hasn’t.’ Brenner was enjoying stalling her.
‘Then where might I find him?’
‘Police academy,’ Brenner said. ‘We found a new role for him there. In here… how can I put it? He had difficulties accepting who was in charge. I had no choice but to act.’
Charly refused to give Brenner’s remarks the time of day. ‘Police academy… How do I get there?’
Brenner gave her an appraising look. ‘It’s a bit of a trek on foot,’ he said. ‘Kaiser-Wilhelm-Strasse. A good three kilometres.’
‘I’ll take a taxi,’ Charly said, shouldering her bag.
As she reached the door, Brenner piped up again. ‘Officer Schneider will be heading out shortly. He’ll drive you.’
A little while later Charly sat on the rear seat of a green Police Opel as she was driven through Köpenick in the company of two taciturn men. They crossed the winter-grey Dahme, heading northbound past the town hall to the railway station and eventually turning left. The police academy on Kaiser-Wilhelm-Strasse was a bright new building, as if by dint of its architecture it might produce a generation of bright new officers. The whole site was an expression of hope for an era already in terminal decline. A swastika flag adorned the facade, more out of place here than on any other building in the city.
The Opel parked in the yard. Charly heard a train thundering across the tracks nearby. Her companions stepped silently out of the car. ‘So, where can I find Chief Inspector Böhm?’ she asked.
The elder of the pair, Schneider, replied, breaking out in whinnying laughter. ‘Best ask at the gate.’ He and his colleague were still laughing as they disappeared inside the building.