Babylon Berlin (19 page)

‘Do you have any complaints? We’re about to raid a heap of illegal nightclubs. That’s something, isn’t it? Lanke I can deal with on my own.’

Wolter laughed. ‘Lanke? No-one should pick a fight with him without back-up. He’s more dangerous than a pimp who’s had his car scratched!’ Uncle proffered his hand. ‘Come on, let’s forget about it. I’m just a little overworked at the moment. We shouldn’t be arguing.’

Rath hesitated for a moment, but the furrows on Wolter’s brow had vanished almost as soon as they had appeared.

‘Actually, I wanted to ask you round,’ Uncle continued. ‘I’m entertaining a few friends at my place tomorrow, and it would be great if you could make it.’

It was the evening he had reserved for Charlotte, but he couldn’t tell Bruno that yet. The invitation was an attempt at reconciliation, he had to accept and he wanted to accept. Bruno had called him a friend and he needed friends. He’d have to put Charlotte off.

‘Wednesday evening? That should be fine, as long as I don’t have to do any overtime. I have a strict boss.’

‘No overtime on Wednesday. We’ll do it tonight. What we don’t get done on Wednesday, we’ll work off on Friday!’

13

It was already dark when he stepped onto the small forecourt at Friedenau station, but the streets in this neighbourhood were well lit and already it felt different from
Schlesischer Bahnhof
. He couldn’t help thinking of his visit to
Plaza
. He would try one more time. He had spoken to Gloria again yesterday evening before heading home and falling exhausted into bed. ‘If he wants to talk to you, then he’ll talk to you,’ she had said, almost a little insulted. ‘If not, then there’s nothing you can do.’

Bruno had made them work overtime yesterday as well as on Monday, but he had been true to his word and sent them home at five today. They had got a lot done, but would have to work on the public holiday tomorrow. Still, there was no reason why Rath shouldn’t leave the office promptly and go out. First to the cinema, then to eat, and after that perhaps to dance. With Charlotte.

He had spent Monday searching all over the Castle for her. Discreetly, of course, as he couldn’t just march into A Division, but he had taken every opportunity to get out of the office. He had looked in Aschinger and the canteen, and on several occasions lingered in the corridor outside the glass doors of Homicide. When he returned home late that evening, he hadn’t even seen her, let alone spoken to her, but an idea had come to him as he gazed at the telephone next to his bed. CID officers like him had to be available, and they all had a telephone line. She was only a stenographer, but she was ambitious. There must be a tiny chance, even if he didn’t really believe it. He leafed through the telephone directory and came across an entry.
Ritter, C.,
Spenerstrasse 32, NW HANSA 3919.
Perhaps he’d be in luck. He waited to be put through, praying that it wouldn’t be a Carl or a Christian on the other end of the line.

‘Overbeck,’ a woman’s voice answered.

Wrong number? He almost hung up instinctively, but recovered himself. ‘Good evening, Inspector Rath here. Please excuse me for disturbing you so late, but is Fräulein Charlotte Ritter…’

‘As long as the station calls before midnight, it isn’t late – that much I’ve learned by now. Wait a moment.’

The receiver was placed next to the cradle.

‘Charly,’ he heard the woman shout. ‘Telephone for you. The station!’

He heard the slamming of doors, steps, and a loud clatter as she picked up the receiver.

‘Böhm?’ It was her voice. ‘Böhm, is that you?’

‘No, Rath here.’

A pause. ‘Oh!?’

He had managed to surprise her at any rate.

‘Good evening, Inspector,’ she said, ‘I do hope you’re not trying to rope me into one of E Division’s operations.’

‘No, it’s a private matter.’

‘About arrangements for Wednesday evening?’

So, she hadn’t forgotten their vague plans to meet.

‘No,’ he said, ‘it’s about arrangements for Thursday evening.’

Another pause. Exactly as he had feared. ‘I could only get tickets for Thursday.’

‘Tickets?’

She was curious.

‘Phoebus Palace.’

‘A cinema? There were only tickets for the public holiday?’

‘The cinema in
Europahaus
. Not so easy to get tickets there. Besides, there’s a little extra into the bargain. I’ve reserved a table in the
Europa-Pavillon.
’

He didn’t know if she had really swallowed his lie, or if she was even free on Thursday. ‘So, what’s on at the cinema?’ she replied.

It wasn’t far to the Wolters’s house from the station. Fregestrasse, a quiet street, was lined with trees, the houses solidly middle-class. Rath was reminded of Klettenberg in Cologne. Rath recognised Bruno’s Ford, as well as a large Horch and even a Maybach. Walking through a small front garden he straightened his jacket, rang the bell and looked upwards. A nice two-storey house, not a villa but hardly a shack, and the only detached house here as far as he could see. A woman opened the door. Rath recognised her face from the photograph on Bruno’s desk.

‘Good evening, Frau Wolter.’ He presented her with a bouquet of flowers.

‘Thank you! You must be Herr Rath? Bruno has told me a lot about you.’

He entered and looked around. The flat was generously proportioned. A flight of stairs led to the top floor. There were lots of coats hanging on the coat stand, amongst them two
Reichswehr
jackets, and he could hear a babble of voices and the clinking of glasses from further inside.

‘Let me take your hat and coat,’ Emmi Wolter said.

‘Thank you.’

‘Just follow the noise. Your colleague, young Herr Jänicke, is here as well.’

The rookie too? Jänicke’s relationship with Bruno wasn’t exactly friendly, but Uncle wouldn’t want to exclude the third member of their team.

Emmi Wolter rushed ahead of him and opened the door. ‘Please. Let me just put these flowers in water. What can I get you?’

‘A cognac, please.’

Thick cigarette smoke hung in the air in the large drawing room. A dozen men were present.
A few friends.
He couldn’t see Stephan, but Bruno was standing next to two
Reichswehr
officers and a serious looking civilian. When he caught sight of Rath, his face brightened.

‘Gereon! Good of you to come.’

‘You don’t often get the opportunity to polish off a colleague’s supplies.’

‘Stephan is here too, but I’ve no idea where he’s lurking.’ He led him towards the three men with whom he had been speaking. ‘Gentlemen, may I introduce my most trusted colleague, Detective Inspector Gereon Rath?’

Rath gave a brief nod. Wolter continued with the introductions.

‘Major General Alfred Seegers…’ A grey-haired man with thin lips and a gaunt face made a bow. ‘…Senior Lieutenant Werner Fröhlich…’ A blond man in his mid-forties saluted with his cognac glass. ‘And this is Paul Geitner,’ Wolter introduced the civilian last. Pinned to Geitner’s lapel was a sparkling red-white button with a black swastika. ‘All former comrades-in-arms. War welds people together. Unfortunately, Helmut Behnke is missing. He was one of us too.’

‘Did you serve, Inspector?’ Seegers asked. A Prussian from the old school, he reminded Rath of his father.

‘Yes, but not on the Front. The war was over before I received my marching orders.’

‘So many young men ready to fight. We could have won if those November criminals hadn’t stabbed us in the back!’

Rath was familiar with these pronouncements. In Nationalist circles, they were seen as good form. For his part, he was happy not to have been used as cannon fodder, but he couldn’t say that here.

‘Things are going to look up soon,’ said Wolter. ‘Ah! Thank you, Emmi.’

Emmi Wolter had appeared with a cognac glass, which she presented to Rath, who had no desire to talk about the lost war.

‘To our host,’ he said.

‘To the best marksman the German army ever had,’ seconded the gaunt Major General. The men clinked glasses.

Seegers took him to one side. ‘Were you part of the operation against the communists?’

Rath nodded.

‘The one time the social democrats try to take decisive action, it goes sour.’ Seegers shook his head. ‘Bruno told me everything.’ The officer clapped him on the shoulder. ‘No offence meant, young man, I’m not attacking you. Orders are orders, it’s your superiors that failed. The social democrats just aren’t capable.’

‘At least they’ve banned the RFB now.’

‘Good joke, isn’t it! The Reds are laughing up their sleeves! Those social democrats aren’t even capable of raiding a single arms cache, but they think they can maintain control with a ban. It’s laughable! The Red Front had illegal arms caches before the ban. They’ll have them still.’

‘I don’t think the commies are ready for a revolution. They’d like to be, but really they’re a bunch of undisciplined layabouts.’

Seegers laughed. ‘I like you, young man. A bunch of layabouts, indeed! But for how long? The red army has capable officers, and Moscow is supporting the German Red Front to the best of its ability! If the gold that everyone’s after at the moment falls into the wrong hands, then good night. The Reds will be able to afford weapons that your police can’t possibly hope to compete with and, with our miserable force of one hundred thousand men, we’ll be powerless too.’

‘What gold?’

‘Does the name Sorokin mean anything to you?’

‘Should it?’

‘Ancient Russian nobility. Provided generations of officers for the Tsar’s army.’ Seegers produced a small, silver case from his uniform jacket and opened the cover. ‘Would you like one?’

Rath took a cigarette. Seegers gave him a light and lit one for himself.

‘The last generation deserted the Tsar and switched allegiance to Kerenski.’ Seegers breathed smoke in greedily, like a vampire sucking blood. ‘Not that the Bolsheviks cared. They bumped off the liberals just as they did the monarchists and only a handful of Sorokins managed to escape, forced to leave their legendary hoard behind. The Reds searched every inch of the Sorokin castles before turning them into barracks and factories, but found nothing.’ He paused, his silence pregnant with meaning. ‘They say it’s turned up again!’

‘Stalin will be pleased.’

‘Wrong, young man!’ Seegers waved his hand dismissively. ‘Stalin is beside himself. Gold worth around eighty million
Reichsmark
is alleged to have been smuggled out of the country. Do you know to where?’

Rath had no idea and shrugged his shoulders.

‘The rumour is that the Sorokin gold is in Berlin!’

‘Eighty million? That’s an incredible sum!’

Seegers nodded. ‘That’s why Stalin is so afraid. Especially now, after sending Trotsky into the wilderness. He’s worried the money could be invested in counter revolution. I wouldn’t put it past the Sorokins. Stalin is counting on the worst. Why do you think there are so many Chekists in Berlin at the minute? Thälmann’s people are helping them with the search – in the hope that they get a piece of the action too.’

‘How do you know all this?’

‘In the
Reichswehr
one hears things.’ Seegers cracked a grin and winked, looking grotesque, as if his gaunt face couldn’t deal with so much expression at once.

‘And the communists are after this gold?’

‘Everyone who knows about it is after it. The word is the courier buckled and kept everything for himself. At any rate, it didn’t arrive where it was supposed to arrive.’

‘With the Sorokins?’

‘Or their political allies. People say the liberal Sorokins have joined forces with
Krasnaja Krepost
, to snatch power from Stalin.’

‘With who?’

‘
Krasnaja Krepost.
It means something like ‘red fortress’. Communist dissenters. Like Trotsky. Perhaps he’s involved in it too, and that man can assemble an army.’

‘Why are you telling me all this?’

‘Because it’s about Germany’s future, young man. You were a soldier. We are comrades-in-arms! This gold cannot be allowed to fall into the wrong hands.’

‘Why hasn’t the
Reichswehr
reported this to the political police?’

‘In this matter, there are no reports. Nothing official. People in the police whom we trust can be informed, but the political police, as an apparatus, must never learn of this affair. Do you understand? I’ve told you in confidence as well. A friend of Bruno is a friend of mine.’

‘I’m honoured by your trust.’

‘It’s not just a question of trust, young man, it’s a question of comradeship. The German
Reich
is only permitted one hundred thousand soldiers. Laughable! But there are many men who are good soldiers, even if they don’t wear the field grey uniform. Germany needs good soldiers, and a good police officer is always a good soldier too. The police and the
Reichswehr
should stick together in matters that concern Germany.’

‘I think you’ve come to the wrong man. For me police officer and soldier are two very different things. I should know, I’ve been both.’ It was about time he gave this officer a piece of his mind. Rath had bitten his tongue because he wanted to hear Seegers’s conspiracy theory to the end. ‘I became a police officer to help maintain law and order and ensure the streets are safe, not to play soldiers or war, and certainly not civil war.’

Seegers raised his hands in appeasement. ‘I didn’t mean to offend you, young man. No-one wants war, but Germany has many enemies and if they want war then we should be forearmed. I am certain that when the Fatherland calls to arms, you will answer that call too. Once a soldier, always a soldier. You’re a soldier, my friend, there’s no point denying it, and we need people like you!’

Rath spotted Stephan Jänicke in the room next door. ‘You’ll excuse me,’ he said to Seegers, ‘but I need to go and say hello to a colleague.’

‘Just have a think about what I said,’ Seegers called after him.

Rath went over to the rookie, who was standing in the room with his glass, looking a little lost.