Babylon Berlin (28 page)

He passed the man in woman’s clothing towards the back, where he was received by two cops and placed in handcuffs. One troop went inside with Wolter and Rath, the other remained outside to take care of the clients and note the number plates of the cars that were parked in front of the courtyard gate.

There was a frenzy of activity as the officers descended the steps into the long, dark passageways that led to the pleasure rooms. Half a dozen men were hanging around, and some of them had only just realised what was going on. Wolter revealed the badge on his jacket and moved through the basement vault with his weapon drawn. Rath followed with his Mauser. It had only just occurred to him that he hadn’t reloaded it since yesterday’s incident. He prayed not to have to fire during the operation, otherwise someone might notice that his magazine was missing a cartridge. Behind them, the cops continued to advance, their weapons likewise drawn.

They herded the men onwards. Some abandoned themselves to their fate, but most ran away. It was as if they were in a fox’s den: the foxes fled to the second exit, unaware that a pack of dogs was waiting there too. They had stationed a third truck at Kleiststrasse, by a courtyard that could be reached via the rear exit of
Pille.
A troop of hard-boiled officers waited there, a group that wouldn’t shilly-shally for long, as that was where those who knew this underground labyrinth best would be heading. The hard cases.

The music grew louder and suddenly they were standing in a large vault, in which only a few dim lamps were burning. It was brightest on the stage, bathed in the dazzling glare of a spotlight. Two women were embracing and performing something approximating a dance, only their movements weren’t always in time to the sound of the band. When they noticed the wall of policemen that had formed by the entrance, they held each other tight, as if they were freezing. Perhaps they were ashamed, although they weren’t even completely naked. The place was relatively tame in general, Rath thought. Things had been far more unruly in
Venuskeller
.

The two CID officers calmly positioned themselves in front of the cops and looked around the vault. They were in no hurry to pursue the fleeing men, knowing that no-one could escape. Behind them a door led into the next vault. As far as they knew the room was just as big as the one they found themselves in, only it was divided into a number of private booths. Anyone who wanted to gain access had to cough up a little more money than out front, which was obviously restricted to a rather tame striptease.

Wolter put his weapon away, dug his thumbs into his belt and tried to make himself heard, but his voice was drowned out by the music. It took a moment for the band to grasp the situation. The clarinet was the last to cease playing. Then it needed a little while longer for the general muttering to die down and for Wolter’s voice to be heard.

‘…might I ask you please to remain quiet? This is a police action. We will merely take you to the station, register your personal details and take a short statement. Then you can go. This operation is directed against the owners of this illegal establishment, not its patrons.’

Most of the guests allowed themselves to be led away like obedient lambs. The musicians didn’t make any move either. The staff behind the counter likewise remained calm. Only a few ran towards the back, where the men from the passageway had already disappeared. Normally a well-built employee saw to it that no-one strayed into the second vault, but now anyone could go through. From the back room, shouting could be heard. A half-naked woman came through the door, saw the uniformed officers and immediately turned around again.

Gradually, the chaos abated and the area emptied. Rath gave Wolter a sign that he would move towards the back and beckoned four cops over. They weren’t interested in the private booths, where men were getting hastily dressed on the beds. The women had disappeared, leaving only a few items of clothing behind. A second door opened onto a long, murky passageway with sewage pipes running along the ceiling. Rath switched on his flashlight. To the right, the way led through a series of winding passageways to the rear courtyard on Kleiststrasse. He led his people in the opposite direction. The end of the vaulted passageway was marked by a steel door, behind which the grinding of an organ could be heard. Now they’d find out if Krajewski was as good as his word.

He switched the flashlight off again. It was impossible to tell if the room was being guarded, and, if it was, the flashlight presented too obvious a target. The door was firmly locked. He landed a well-directed kick at precisely the height of the lock, and the door swung open into a dark room.

The darkness was illuminated only by a single beam of light flickering through the smoke-filled air. An organ was playing bombastic music, a strange mix of the
Marseillaise
and
Heil dir im Siegerkranz
. No-one turned to face the intruders: the organ drowned out all other sounds and the action on the screen had obviously cast a spell over everyone. Even the cops who stepped into the room behind Rath.

The screen was considerably smaller than the one in
Gloria Palace
, though the film would probably have filled the largest theatres in the city, if a legal screening had been allowed. A still sprightly Kaiser Wilhelm, the First this time, was having it off with a woman who bore a striking resemblance to the French Empress Eugenie, while Napoleon III sat on a chair next to them, looking on in chains as he snorted with rage. The Bismarck portrait standing on the bedside table was a nice touch, the unmistakeable thumbprint of Johann König, only this time in moving images. Rath moved over towards the organist, whose eyes were on the film, and tapped her lightly on the shoulder. She gave a start, but played on until he put a finger to his lips.

Once the organ had died, for a brief moment only the occasional groan and hum of the projector could be heard, then the groaning subsided too, before Rath’s flashlight prompted a fleeting commotion. Women who had obviously been crouching in the depths of the cinema seats sprang up and adjusted their clothing. They seemed less startled than the men in the theatre, whose faces were bathed in a bizarre light by the beam of the flash. A corpulent, older gentleman, whose erection, caused by the film and the services of the young lady, was still plain to see, hurriedly pulled up his trousers. The other men in the room, around two dozen of them, were concerned with similar matters, either with ladies or alone.

‘This is a police operation, gentlemen,’ he said. ‘I ask you now to place yourself in the hands of the offices of law enforcement.’

‘Outrageous!’ growled the fat man, who had just managed to pull his trousers over his erection. ‘There will be consequences, young man. You can’t do this to me!’

‘I can,’ Rath said, and turned towards the cops. ‘Make sure this horny fatso gets locked in a cell.’

The fat man tried to protest, but two uniformed officers had already grabbed hold of him and were leading him outside.

‘You’ll regret this, I promise you that,’ the fat man raging, ‘I’m a friend of the Minister of the Interior! This is a scandal!’

‘You’re telling me,’ Rath called after him.

He wasn’t the first man tonight who claimed to have prominent friends. They wouldn’t find out until next week at the latest if any of them really did have connections in the government or similar circles, when the protests would reach the commissioner. Rath doubted there would be many. Most of them, even if they really did wield any influence, would rather content themselves with a night in police custody which they would never mention again, than admit they had been gadding about in seedy, illegal nightclubs.

It took less than half an hour for everyone to be ready for dispatch, patrons and employees alike. Rath gazed after the two trucks as they rolled away from Motzstrasse towards Alex. The green Opel was still parked on the street corner with the doorman looking out of the rear side window. Johnny, the tranny had called him. According to his ID, his real name was the more respectable Wilfried Johnen. Rath had the impression that the man had grown even paler in the course of the last half hour. No wonder: Johnny had had to reckon that, any minute now, along with all these colourful people being bundled onto the truck, his employers would soon stroll past. It would not be good to be seen in a police car when that happened. But Johnny had probably been lucky: most of them would be waiting for their transport to Alex in Kleiststrasse.

Stephan Jänicke sat on the rear seat with the type of frozen face that only an East Prussian could achieve. There wasn’t the slightest trace of emotion in it. Rath knew that the rookie hadn’t exchanged a single word with the doorman in the last half hour. Not even the East Westphalians with whom Rath had worked in Cologne could manage that. Jänicke was exactly the right person for a job like this. Nothing made a crook of this calibre so nervous as a cop who didn’t say a word. Wilfried ‘Johnny’ Johnen would be ready to talk before he reached the station.

Wolter gestured towards his wristwatch and held five fingers in the air. Jänicke nodded. Rath followed Uncle into the catacombs of
Pille
, where a single officer was performing sentry duty. With badges raised, they crossed to the other side and out of the cellar, but the courtyard was empty. The engine of the truck in Kleiststrasse was already running, though the tailgate was still open and two officers were fiddling with it. The two CID officers said hello and drew nearer. Rath glanced briefly at the load platform but couldn’t see a great deal.

‘You’re a sweet one,’ a female voice said, ‘perhaps the two of us could do something later!’

A few women found it amusing, but the giggling was scotched by a rough, male ‘shut your trap!’ Impossible to say whether it came from a colleague inside the vehicle or a pimp. While Wolter was exchanging a few words with the two cops, Rath stepped a little to the side and lit a cigarette. This raid was their last of the evening. In total, they had swooped on nine illegal nightclubs, and they had been on the ground for most of it, racing from one roundup to the next, according to a meticulous schedule. Now it was over Rath inhaled the smoke of the cigarette deeply, as if it were oxygen.

Bruno stood alongside the officer who was currently sealing the tailgate on the final truck, and who would remain behind on guard duty. After the vehicle had groaned into motion, Uncle said one last thing to the cop and came over, fetching a packet of cigarettes from his pocket.

‘We’ve earned this one, don’t you think?’ he said.

‘Eleventh commandment: never contradict your boss.’

‘Glad it’s over?’

Rath nodded.

‘You look tired.’ Wolter examined him. ‘Not enough sleep last night?’

The circles under his eyes said everything, but there was nothing to be done about it. Rath shrugged his shoulders. ‘An operation like this doesn’t come round every day.’

‘True. Could have been a complete flop though. But now you can breathe a sigh of relief. There wasn’t a single place we weren’t justified in taking apart. Not one of them smelled a rat. And we didn’t catch old man Lanke screwing either. It doesn’t get any better than that.’

Rath couldn’t help but grin when he imagined the chief of E Division in full cry with a whore. Bruno was right, there had barely been a hitch. At most a handful of revellers had escaped, but they had managed to snare a few hard cases in every bar to compensate. They also had a decent amount of evidence, as some of the bar owners had kept neat accounts. Nevertheless, Rath still couldn’t see the point in an operation like this. Raiding criminal dives, drug stashes, arms caches; all that made sense. But nightclubs? If people wanted to enjoy themselves, then they should go ahead and enjoy themselves.

Wolter clapped him on the shoulder. ‘Not so pensive, my boy! I wouldn’t have bitten your head off if tonight had been a dead loss. We planned the operation together, and if something had happened then it would have been my thick skull on the block. And Lanke could’ve spent any amount of time tearing it to shreds, but it’s a hardy old thing.’

‘It all went pretty smoothly.’

‘Yes. And as long as the three dozen odd intimates of the Minister of the Interior, the Imperial Chancellor, and the Emperor of China that we dispatched to Alex today don’t complain, we shouldn’t get any trouble.’ Wolter glanced at the time. ‘We should be finished in two hours. Will you be able to stay on your feet until then?’

‘Give me a pot of strong coffee, a few cigarettes and I’ll grill the toughest of them till the day after tomorrow!’

‘Let’s not exaggerate. We’ll wrap things up by three at the latest. If you want, I’ll give you a lift home. The real work starts tomorrow anyway. You need to be well rested. It could be a long day.’

‘Stephan won’t be too happy.’

‘What do you mean?’

‘It’ll ruin his Sunday football. Aren’t Hertha playing in the
Plumpe
tomorrow?’

‘
A propos
. We should look in on him. Make sure he’s not worried about anything.’

They threw their cigarettes on the pavement and walked past the lookout back into the cellar.

‘Lanke was asking about you recently by the way,’ Wolter said casually, as Rath’s flashlight lit the way back.

‘Really?’

‘Even rang me at home. The first time I’ve had the honour. Wanted to know how you’re getting on. Sounded very paternal, could give you a real fright.’

It sounded like the commissioner had inquired with the chief of E Division about the son of his good friend. Lanke would never have hit upon the idea by himself. Rath realised that Bruno was also curious about what could be behind it. Did he suspect something?

‘And?’ Rath asked.

‘What do you think? I told him you were the most obstinate provincial cop I’d ever had to train.’

‘I mean: what exactly did Lanke want to know?’

‘Hard to say with that man, but funnily enough it didn’t sound like he was looking for misdemeanours. Quite the opposite. Sounded very pleased when I told him who was responsible for our latest success.’