Babylon Berlin (30 page)

Rath gave Wolter a nudge and gestured surreptitiously towards their boss. ‘I’m not surprised that we didn’t catch Lanke in one of those dives,’ he whispered. ‘He knew about it.’

‘It was probably me that spilled the beans. It can happen when the boss rings you at home.’

When Lanke spotted them, a smile crept across his face, and he interrupted his wanderings to make for the two vice detectives. Rath felt uncomfortable. It was unpleasant to see the man smiling, almost as unpleasant as being yelled at by him.

Superintendent Werner Lanke genuinely seemed to be in the best of spirits.

‘Well, gentlemen,’ he greeted them with Prussian brevity, ‘everything’s going swimmingly. Like old times!’

‘Yes, Superintendent,’ Wolter knew what was good and proper and gave an interim report. ‘Operation Nighthawk has proved a success.’

‘You’ve picked up a lot of trash. A few big fish too, Kronberg just told me, and from the worst kind of criminal dens.’

‘Depends, sir, there are lots of respectable citizens here too. Hope above all that this operation’s put a damper on the deplorable custom of illegal nightclubs. Some of the gentlemen here will no doubt suffer heavy financial losses thanks to tonight.’

‘So they should! Give vice no dice!’

Rath, who as the lowest ranking officer had thus far maintained a modest silence, almost gave a start as the superintendent suddenly turned to him and, to top it all, assumed a confidential whisper.

‘Well, young man, you’ve settled in well here haven’t you?’
Young man
! Lanke had never called him that before. Crooked Lanke had probably never called anyone that before. Rath nodded, and gave a bemused smile, as the Division Chief placed a hand on his shoulder and took him to one side. ‘Your part in all this hasn’t gone unnoticed, I can assure you!’

They were now standing by one of the windows that looked onto Alexanderstrasse, a distance apart from the excitement in the room. His boss’s unexpected friendliness made Rath shudder.

‘People have started to take notice of you upstairs,’ Lanke said. The way he rolled his eyes upwards, one might have thought that for Werner Lanke
upstairs
could only mean God. ‘I know you haven’t been with us for long,’ he continued, ‘but what would you think if you were assigned a job in a different division with perhaps a little more responsibility?’

‘I don’t quite understand, sir…’

‘Next week, you will be working in Homicide,’ Lanke said. ‘As you are perhaps aware, from time to time E Division places a few officers at Homicide’s disposal. On a four-week cycle.’ He made a circular motion with his index finger. ‘Rotation, you understand?’

Rath nodded eagerly.

‘But this time, things will be a little different.’ Lanke sounded like a godfather who was about to pull a present from his pocket. ‘The commissioner has asked if I can recommend an officer who is in a position to take on responsibility should the situation arise. There is currently a shortage of staff in A. They need someone with experience, perhaps permanently.’

Rath sensed what was coming. Crooked Lanke was passing off the strings Engelbert Rath had pulled a long time ago as his own work.

‘Naturally I thought of you straightaway,’ Lanke continued. ‘You and your skills. You should know that Bruno Wolter has a very high opinion of you. But I said to him that people like Inspector Rath are difficult to keep hold of, they are needed in other divisions.’

‘You can actually arrange for me to take on an assignment in Homicide?’

Lanke nodded. ‘My word counts for something here. I hope you realise what an honour it is to be given an assignment in Homicide. Gennat takes only the best!’

‘But I’ve only just got used to working in your division, sir, I can hardly leave you and DCI Wolter in the lurch.’ Rath gratefully seized the opportunity to get on Crooked Lanke’s nerves. ‘You know how much work we have ahead of us. Operation Nighthawk only started today. There are still interrogations to be carried out, then everything needs to be evaluated and reviewed for the public prosecutor.’

‘There are enough people in E for that. And you don’t need to worry about Wolter. He understands.’

Rath continued in a sceptical vein. ‘Perhaps I should sleep on it. Once Operation Nighthawk is complete, then we can always tal…’

‘I’m afraid you haven’t quite understood.’ As if he had flicked a switch, Lanke slipped back into the tone that Rath was accustomed to. ‘I am your superior, my dear inspector, and if I say that you are the best man that I can give to A Division, then that’s that. Report to Superintendent Gennat on Monday morning at eight on the dot. Understood?’

‘Yes, sir.’ Only with difficulty was Rath able to suppress a grin, adopting instead an expression that was typical for a Prussian officer: disappointment masked by absolute obedience.

Lanke seemed to like it. He put on a smile. ‘There, you see,’ he said and clapped Rath on the shoulder. ‘We are in agreement. And by the way…’ The chief of vice leaned over towards Rath a final time, and spoke in a whisper once more: ‘I’m not expecting any thanks. You can rejoice in silence. Tomorrow is your last day in my department. I don’t want to see you in E Division again, my friend.’

His colleagues looked at him expectantly as he returned to the table. No sooner had Lanke moved far enough way than Bruno gave voice to his curiosity.

‘So?’ he said. Lanke was already making his way towards the exit with his hunched gait. ‘When’s the big day?’

‘Sorry?’ Rath threw his colleague a questioning glance. What the hell was that supposed to mean?

‘When are you two getting married?’ Uncle asked, completely serious. Then burst out laughing. The two other officers joined in.

19

Another short night. He had fallen into bed around half past three and been awakened at half past seven by a tremendous crash somewhere in the flat. Elisabeth Behnke started screaming. Maybe Weinert had forgotten to shoo his ladies out of the house on time? Truth be told, it took a lot less to make old Behnke hot under the collar. His landlady’s mood had grown increasingly volatile in the last few days and even little things were making her go berserk.

He didn’t have to be at the Castle until ten and tried to get back to sleep, at least for half an hour. It was pointless. Just as he was on the point of nodding off, the screaming started again. He admitted defeat and got up. A quick glance in the mirror told him he didn’t look any better than yesterday, the circles under his eyes were still there. Still, at least he
felt
better. The ghosts that haunted him had disappeared and the clearer he recalled the events of yesterday, the better his mood became.
Report to Superintendent Gennat on Monday morning
was the first order from Lanke that he was happy to obey.

Naturally they had spoken about it the previous evening as Bruno drove him home. Uncle had simply nodded when he heard about Lanke’s instructions.
I told you
so
, no doubt it was supposed to mean. Rath had remained in his seat for a moment when the black Ford came to a halt in Nürnberger Strasse. Saying goodbye at the door of the car had felt like saying goodbye to E Division, like saying goodbye to a colleague, the like of whom he would struggle to find in A Division.

‘If those bastards in A get on your nerves, just come and see me,’ Bruno had called after him, as he drove down Nürnberger Strasse.

The sky was an outrageous shade of blue, and Rath had no desire to have his morning spoilt by a foul-tempered Elisabeth Behnke. Just the right weather for a spot of breakfast at
Josty
on Potsdamer Platz. In the mornings the sun shone through Leipziger Strasse directly onto the café terrace.

His attempts to avoid Elisabeth Behnke backfired when he almost tripped over her. What was she doing at such an hour in her tenant’s bathroom of all places?

She flashed her eyes furiously at him as she crouched by the open flap of the boiler and busied herself in the ash with a poker.

‘So,’ she hissed, ‘sleep well, Inspector?’

He ignored her tone. ‘Oh yes, thanks, very well,’ he replied, knowing that his exaggerated friendliness would provoke her even more. ‘Only, I was awakened a little noisily…’

She flung the poker into the ash so that it threw up a cloud of dust.

‘Would the gentleman also like to take a bath and complain that the boiler isn’t clean?’

So that was the reason there had been trouble this morning. Rath couldn’t imagine that Weinert had been looking for it.

‘But Elisabeth…’ he began.

‘Don’t give me Elisabeth!’ She was seriously angry. ‘Just tell me, what is the meaning of this mess?’

He still didn’t understand what she meant. She crouched in front of the boiler again, poked around furiously with the tongs and finally pulled out a long, only partially burned strip of fabric. Rath gave a start. The last remains of his suit!

‘Perhaps you can tell me why you’ve put cleaning rags in the boiler? And don’t tell me it wasn’t you! Weinert couldn’t get the boiler to work thanks to this rubbish, and left for work unwashed and in a foul mood. But it’s all the same to you! The pair of you don’t give a damn about anything, and so it’s always left to old Behnke to do the dirty work!’

‘I’m sorry.’ He did genuinely regret it. Why hadn’t he taken a closer look at the boiler yesterday? ‘Come, allow me, I’ll clear it up.’

He reached out his hand for the fabric. Suddenly she began to sob and covered her face with her soot-blackened hands. The suit rag fell to the floor and he realised that she was embarrassed to cry in his presence. He’d have liked nothing more than to take her in his arms and comfort her, but that was the worst thing he could do in this situation. He stood next to her helplessly.

‘Elisabeth, it’s OK. I wasn’t thinking, I needed to throw the old rag out and…’

She stood up and looked at him out of tear-swollen and black-smudged eyes.

‘Why can’t you just be an arsehole?’ she said, and disappeared through the door.

He looked at the mess in front of the boiler and sighed. Then he started to clean.

He was at the Castle earlier than usual. With no-one else in the office he used the time to study the lists in peace. It seemed that some of the women to whom they owed the success of Operation Nighthawk in the first place had fallen back into their clutches. They had picked up Squealing Sylvie in
Bar Noir
, and Red Sophie in
Blauer Holunder
. The ladies obviously felt safe following their release and had already started working again. Rath could have bet they were already back posing as models for pornographic snaps, although not in Johann König’s studio, as he was still awaiting trial in Moabit.

Squealing Sylvie spat at Rath when she recognised him. He had plumped for the troop from
Bar Noir
to start with. Not because he set great store by a reunion with Sylvia Walkowski, but rather because there were two names on the list that had aroused his curiosity.

Nikita Ivanovitsch Fallin and Vitali Pjotrevitsch Selenskij were their full names. More instructive were the comments that ED had added to their particulars: Fallin, the first name on the list, Scar Face therefore, had attracted attention in February 1926 due to a count of grievous bodily harm. In the column below, the officer had only needed to write
ditto
after Selenskij’s name. Even then the pair had been inseparable, and hadn’t hesitated in bringing their physical strength to bear.

He acquired a stenographer and an interrogation room, and had the various characters brought in, in the order they appeared on the list. He didn’t want to let anyone know about his particular interest in the Russians and so had to work his way through a procession of small-time crooks and more or less innocent family men, as well as being spat at by Squealing Sylvie, until the list was down to the two men.

At last.

However, when he telephoned the officer in the holding cells to request that the first of the two Russians be sent through, he received a surprise. At first he thought he had misheard.

‘What’s that supposed to mean:
is no longer there
?’

He was almost shouting down the receiver, which didn’t seem to unsettle the warder. Rath heard papers rustling as the man leafed through his documents.

‘Nikita Ivanovitsch Fallin was released this morning,’ the warder said. ‘Along with another Russian…’ Another rustle of paper. ‘…Vitali Pjotrevitsch Selenskij.’

‘Him as well?’ Now Rath was
really
shouting. ‘Who the hell authorised that?’

‘The commissioner.’

‘You’re trying to tell me that Dörr…, that Herr Zörgiebel personally came by to release prisoners?’

‘Of course not. His signature and stamp are enough.’

‘And who brought you these release papers?’

‘They were in the in-tray this morning. As is normal in a case like this.’

‘What do you mean?’

‘Special treatment. You haven’t been working here long, have you?’

‘The only thing I know is that two important witnesses have vanished!’ Rath was becoming louder and louder.
Ignorant Prussian rabble!

‘Don’t get so worked up. You have the address. You can go and visit the witnesses at home. That’s how your colleagues normally do it.’

Rath slammed the phone into the cradle before he could be charged with insulting a police official.

He stormed out of the interrogation room, snorting with rage. Uncle was talking to a man whose top hat and tails looked significantly worse for wear following a night in police custody. Both men looked up in surprise as he stormed through the door.

‘Can you break off for a moment?’ Rath asked.

Wolter ordered the officer in the corridor outside to keep an eye on the man in the tailcoat and went outside with him. Uncle pulled him into a niche that led to the atrium.

‘Have you lost your mind?’ he hissed when they were alone. ‘You can’t just storm into my office and interrupt an interrogation.’

‘It’s still
our
office.’