Should he really propose to a woman whose career was evidently more important to her than marriage and children? Rath no longer knew what was right and what was wrong. Sometimes he wished he belonged to his parents’ generation; things were easier for them. Or, at least, so he thought.
He had been engaged before, but Doris had dropped him after he hit the headlines following the shoot-out in Cologne’s Agnesviertel. At best, their marriage would have resembled that of his parents, and that was something he could do without.
He wanted Charly and no one else. So, why hadn’t he told her that long ago?
‘Damn it!’ he shouted, and Kirie, who had been dozing peacefully on the passenger seat, woke with a start and stared at him.
He wanted her, damn it! Why shouldn’t he just tell her, right now? Then she could decide one way or another. There was no other way, no more waiting, no more half measures. He needed to know! He would accept her answer, whichever way it came out. He couldn’t bear the uncertainty anymore. It was now or never.
He felt a sudden surge of optimism, like a suicide candidate who, at long last, had summoned the courage to enter the lift at the Funkturm in preparation for one final jump.
Essaying a U-turn under the steel bars of the elevated train, he drove the Buick back up Stresemannstrasse, past the Excelsior, heading further and further north until finally he reached Moabit.
Arriving at Spenerstrasse, he sat in the car for a moment. Should he get out or not? Give in to impulse or come to his senses? He tapped a cigarette out of the case, and Kirie looked on in surprise. Why was no one getting out of the car?
She hadn’t expected his advice to be so clear, but his clarity did her good; the whole conversation did her good. She should have called him ages ago; the only reason she hadn’t was Gereon’s stupid jealousy. Guido’s presence was like a red rag to a bull. Well, so what? Whose problem was that? Not hers anyway.
Now Guido, with whom she had studied – and suffered – together for most of her university years, was back in her kitchen, and it was just like old times, like when he advised her to resit the state examination. She couldn’t have wished for a better guide when it came to her dilemma. Court Assessor Guido Scherer was a man who knew a thing or two about making a career in law.
‘You have to take up Heymann’s offer,’ he said. ‘Do you know what an honour that is?’
‘Of course I do, but what good is it?’
‘You’d have a name in the academic world.’
‘I don’t want a name in the academic world. I want more justice in this one.’
Guido smiled. He smiled often. That was another thing Gereon hated about him, but he had never been able to stand her old classmate anyway. She had explained to him countless times that he had no cause for jealousy, but he never seemed to believe her.
‘He’s still pursuing you, you realise that?’
‘Don’t exaggerate. He knows he won’t get anywhere with me, and he’s fine with that.’
‘But the way he looks at you, like… like… And that stupid grin!’
‘Oh, cut it out with your jealousy, and stop trying to dictate who I see!’
Gereon had eased back on his criticism, but somehow she met Guido less often.
Suddenly Charly was furious again. Gereon had succeeded in putting her off one of her best friends. It was only now, more than a year since she last saw him, as they spoke about the law and everything else under the sun, that she realised how much she had missed these conversations. Conversations that weren’t possible with Gereon Rath were exactly what she needed now, after her trouble at Lichtenberg. It did her good to speak with someone who knew about these things; who valued her ability when it came to questions of the law. Despite everything, with Gereon, she still wasn’t sure.
‘Another drop?’
Guido nodded and Charly poured a little more of the red wine she had intended to share with Gereon. So that they could discuss the same subject: Heymann’s offer.
She stood up. ‘If you’ll excuse me. I have to go to the little girls’ room.’
Charly disappeared and, just as her guest raised the glass to his mouth, the doorbell rang.
Rath unwrapped the flowers nervously. His brio on the journey, his determination, his certainty that he was doing the right thing, all shrivelled as he stood in front of the door. On the street he had needed to take a little walk to calm himself down, and had bought a bunch of roses before returning to her flat. Kirie, who was used to going straight into the drawing room from the car, looked at her master patiently, knowing that humans are fickle.
She wagged her tail; she must be able to smell Charly already. Even so, there was nothing doing in her flat. Rath rang a second time. He was starting to think he had made the trip for nothing, that she must be back in Friedrichshain, at the Müggelsee or somewhere else looking for the escaped girl, when he heard steps. His heart pounded, they were going to make up, he knew it, but whether she would accept his proposal… he wasn’t at all sure. He’d need more than simple charm. Damn it, he thought, you have to see this through. Do it right, or not at all!
The door opened and Rath’s boyishly cheeky smile froze.
‘Herr Rath!’ said Guido, grinning.
It couldn’t be! He had been through this exact situation once before, managing, on that occasion, to vent his fury elsewhere. This time he stood rooted to the spot. Rage consumed him. The knowledge that he had nothing to counter it with seemed, finally, to release him. He drew back and, just as Guido was saying something like ‘Won’t you come in?’, slashed the roses to the left and right across his face, long-stemmed flowers, with big, sharp thorns.
Kirie barked, because she barked at anyone her master fought, and it was this barking that returned Rath to his senses, and prevented him from wiping the stupid grin off the man’s face with a straight left. For the grinning man was, of course, still grinning, even though his face was streaked with blood. Flinging the shredded roses at the man’s feet, Rath took Kirie by the lead and returned to the car.
50
The landlord placed two beers on the table, with two schnapps glasses alongside. Rath and Gräf clinked glasses, downed the schnapps and cleansed their palates with beer.
‘So?’ Rath asked. ‘How’s it going?’
‘I arrested a suspect yesterday evening, but Böhm’s the one conducting the interview.’
‘What are you going to do? He’s leading the investigation. Just be glad if your name turns up somewhere in the file.’
‘Well, I suppose it’s better than hanging around the Excelsior. Goldstein still hasn’t left town?’
Rath shook his head. ‘Looks like you’re going to lose your bet.’
‘It isn’t the weekend yet. Where’s your dog by the way?’
‘In bed.’ Rath fumbled an Overstolz out of his case and lit it. ‘What case are you investigating? The dead fence?’
Gräf shook his head. ‘Böhm passed that one to Lange. It’s connected with the KaDeWe break-in somehow. No,’ he said. ‘I get to deal with gay Nazis.’
‘I’m sorry?’
‘Gerhard Kubicki. The dead SA man from Humboldthain. He was a fairy.’
Rath couldn’t help but laugh. ‘So that’s why Goebbels hasn’t made him into a second Wessel.’
‘You wouldn’t believe how many homosexuals there are in the SA. Especially in the new SA. The gay clique heading them are like a red rag to Stennes’ old guard.’
The SA war had kept Berlin on tenterhooks for months. Oberführer Walther Stennes, the highest-ranking SA chief in Berlin, Brandenburg, East Prussia and Pommern, had rebelled against Hitler and Gauleiter Goebbels, on one occasion occupying Berlin party headquarters in Hedemannstrasse. With Hitler’s backing, Goebbels had managed to apply the brakes: Stennes was relieved of office, over five hundred of his supporters were expelled from the SA, and a clean sweep was made of Berlin members. Rival SA factions had clashed with increasing frequency ever since.