‘What about Berolina?’
‘They’ve had similar problems since the SA arrested Leo. It hasn’t impacted too much on my business, most of which is no longer conducted through Berolina. I doubt Lapke is aware of even half of my revenue streams.’
‘A proportion that might have increased had Leo talked?’
Marlow hunched his shoulders. ‘Leo doesn’t know everything, just a damn sight more than Lapke.’
‘Which is why you’re holding him here.’
Marlow looked onto the garden. ‘I bought this place about a year ago. Far from Berlin and its distractions, yet close enough if my presence is required.’ He drew on his cigar. ‘A lot of rich Berlin Jews spend their summer holidays here, which keeps the local SA occupied. They’re happy to leave us be for now.’
‘You plan to stay away a long time?’
‘This is a good place to wait and see how things settle.’
‘You think they will?’
‘Lapke can’t have the upper hand for ever.’
‘Why are you telling me this?’
‘To keep you informed. It’s always good to know who your friends are. And your enemies.’
‘You don’t have many friends left.’
‘The speed of change has caught me by surprise, but the Nazis are interested in certain things I can provide.’
‘What if they prefer to get these things from Lapke and the Nordpiraten?’
‘The Nordpiraten are the only Ringverein that isn’t being harrassed by the SA, but the Nazis don’t need a Ringverein to do their deals, they just need the right people. My people. Lapke’s doing everything he can to win them over to his side, so far without success.’
‘Everything he can includes depriving men like Juretzka of an eye?’
‘The SA isn’t the only force in the new Germany. Believe me when I say that Lapke is backing the wrong horse.’
‘Him and the rest of the country.’
Marlow laughed. ‘You could be right, Inspector. The real question is: how long will Lapke’s horse be in the running?’
83
Hannah knew something was different. Clip, clop, the sound of a woman’s shoes. Not one of the men who came by with food, nor the one she knew as the doctor, who checked her wounds, listened to her heart with the stethoscope, and oversaw her medication.
The men treated her well, but she didn’t know who they were or what they wanted, and could only vaguely remember how she got here. Huckebein, who had ambushed her in that godforsaken rear courtyard. Felix, who had betrayed her. Then darkness. Fritze, who had appeared like her guardian angel, and with whom she had dragged herself to the old cinema, to her refuge behind the organ pipes. After that, nothing, but the face of a Chinese man who appeared in her dreams and whose gaze was somehow both distant and kind at the same time.
At some point she wakened in brightness, saw the doctor sitting alongside her, and feared for a moment that she was in hospital or, worse, Dalldorf, but the doctor wore a suit and the room was more like a princess’s bedchamber than a hospital ward. Through the window she saw bare treetops. Were they somewhere in the Grunewald?
The doctor had spoken to her but her tongue was tied and she remained silent. She felt relieved to be here, in this soft bed, for the chance to recover, but was troubled by an indeterminate fear. Two other men in the room gazed at her impassively. She had seen the same look in the Crow’s Nest: this mercilessness, as if something had sucked the souls from their bodies. These men were no different, just better dressed, and with good manners.
She hadn’t once seen any women, and was curious about who was approaching her room in stiletto heels. One voice was high-pitched, two others low. When the handle was pushed down, nervous anticipation toppled inside her like a house of cards. It was the policewoman who had shown her the image of Kartoffel with those awful burns, who had produced a photo of her father and shoved it under her nose. She gave a friendly smile and stepped towards the bed.
‘Hello, Hannah. I’m glad you’re feeling better.’
Hannah sat up but said nothing. She hadn’t spoken with the men, and she wouldn’t speak with the policewoman either. It wasn’t a conscious choice, she just couldn’t.
The woman sat next to the bed. ‘I’m a police officer. My name is Charlotte Ritter. I visited you in Dalldorf. You remember, don’t you? Today I’m here because I want you to know that the man who was trying to kill you is dead. He can’t hurt you anymore.’
Hannah felt a giant lump in her throat.
‘I need to hear something from you,’ the woman continued. ‘Something only you can tell me. Why did this man want to kill you? You knew him from the Crow’s Nest, didn’t you? Did he abuse you? Can you tell me his name?’
She could scarcely breathe. Don’t panic, she told herself.
The woman sighed and smiled at the same time, very friendly and patient. ‘Fritze sends his regards,’ she said at last. ‘He’s doing well, he…’
‘Fritze!’ Hannah didn’t know where the word came from. It was the first thing she’d said in four days, her voice a husk. The woman seemed delighted.
‘That’s right. Fritze. He called for help, you weren’t doing so well, you were badly injured. We…’
‘Fritze,’ was the only thing she could say.
The woman laid her hand on the cover. ‘It’s all right. I’ll get your friend. Just be patient, and he’ll be here.’
84
Rath drove until the tank was almost empty, then made for a petrol station. After tailing the sun for hours it had finally shaken him off at Königslutter, and was now no more than a blood-red strip on the horizon. The petrol station lights were on but he was the sole customer. ‘Fill her up, please. The spare can too, while you’re at it.’
As the attendant went about his instructions, he stretched his legs and searched for the toilet, splashing water on his face before stepping back into the dusk. Passing the shop window his gaze fell on a familiar logo. ‘You have Afri-Cola here?’ he asked the attendant, who was cleaning the windscreen.
He bought three bottles. Back on the road, he opened the first before rejoining the traffic. It was too sweet for his liking, but it kept you awake, and he had a long drive ahead.
He had told Charly what he was planning days ago, yet she had made trouble all the same. ‘After everything that happened yesterday I thought you’d understand that we were heading back out to Freienwalde today. She spoke; Hannah spoke about Fritze.’
‘And I thought I’d explained this is something I can only do at the weekend.’
‘With Fritze there, we can get Hannah to talk!’
‘We can do that just as well tomorrow or the next day.’
‘As if you’ll be back tomorrow.’
He had shaken his head and set off. It was his car. Let her take the train if she was in such a hurry. Loath as he was to admit it, he was looking forward to getting away from Carmerstrasse for a couple of days. Since Fritze had reappeared, being at home no longer held the same appeal. Everything revolved around the boy. A few times now he had stayed on in the office, and it wasn’t because he needed to work late. Even so, he still hadn’t managed to close the Rothstein suicide, which ought to have been routine. He had requested Saturday off nonetheless, mumbling something about marriage preparations, and with all the overtime he had accrued Buddha was in no position to turn him down.
At the start of the week he had been afraid Homicide might still be called out to investigate a corpse, at the Mühlendamm Lock or wherever else the Spree saw fit to wash up its dead, but with each day that passed he felt more at ease.