The old man nodded.
‘What happened in the park? Is that where they met him?’ Rath tapped the Goldstein picture.
‘Not there. Was before. Already in station.’
‘He followed them?’
‘I don’t know. I only know he reappear when men attack me.’
‘Then what happened? Tell me exactly.’
‘Well… He hit them and drive them away.’
‘Who did he hit?’
‘Two men he knock to ground. The third he shoot in foot, the other he just make scared. But all run away.’
‘He pursued one of them, am I right? The man whose foot had been shot?’
The old man shook his head. ‘He do nothing. He just bring me back to station. A good man. But he shouldn’t have shoot. Shooting is sin.’
‘Hang on: he brought you back to the station? He didn’t chase any of them? None of the men?’
‘Men were all gone.’
‘He brought you to the station. Then he went back to the park?’
‘The man sit with me on train. Get out with me, too, at Rosenthaler Platz.’
Rath was astonished. Goldstein had an alibi for the murder of Gerhard Kubicki. Or had the gangster bought the old man as a defence witness? Rath looked at him, his bearded face, and saw in his eyes an indelible faith in God. No, he didn’t look like someone who could be bought, not even with Abe Goldstein’s American dollars.
‘Can you show us the place where you were attacked?’ The old man nodded. ‘Did you sustain any injuries?’ The old man waved the question away, although there was a bruise under his beard. Rath made a renewed attempt. ‘Your statement is very important. If you set any store by our investigation, then we need your name and address.’
‘No name. I just want to make statement.’
Even Charly’s stubbornness paled in comparison. ‘Your address then. So we know how to reach you, in case…’ The telephone on his desk rang. Rath glanced over his shoulder towards his office, then back at the old man. ‘Would you excuse me a moment?’
The man nodded.
He went into the adjoining room and lifted the receiver. Kirie followed, almost as if she knew who was on the line.
‘Hello, Gereon.’
She didn’t even sound unfriendly. He had to sit down. ‘Charly! I wasn’t expecting you to call.’
‘We should talk, don’t you think?’
Damn it, she was good at catching him off guard. He stretched out an arm and closed the door to the outer office. ‘What is there to talk about?’
‘What do you want? For me to send your toothbrush in the post?’
Of course he didn’t want that.
‘I’m sorry,’ he said, ‘but these last few days… I had the feeling you were trying to get rid of me. And then this guy…’
‘If you mean Guido, he’s not some “guy”, but a friend. Someone you should be apologising to. He didn’t deserve to be treated like that.’
‘I’m sorry. The roses were meant for you. A peace offering.’
‘I wouldn’t like to see a declaration of war.’
Rath couldn’t see her, but could tell from her voice that Charly was grinning broadly, or at least trying her best not to. His heart skipped a beat. He hadn’t lost her yet! ‘I’m really, truly sorry.’
‘Don’t apologise to me, apologise to him.’
Did she have to keep mentioning that idiot? ‘You’re right,’ he said. ‘We need to talk. Your place or mine?’ The possibility of reconciliation turned him on. It didn’t matter if it was in his bed or hers.
‘Neutral ground. That’s what you do during a ceasefire, isn’t it?’
‘No idea.’
‘I was thinking Café Uhlandeck, you can…’
‘Not Uhlandeck.’
‘Then make another suggestion.’
‘How about I invite you to dinner? Tonight. Kempinski on the Ku’damm.’ The restaurant had a lovely terrace, and Rath was hoping for a balmy summer’s night.
‘Agreed.’
He could have jumped for joy, but despite the closed door decided against it. He replaced the receiver carefully in the cradle and let out a yelp of delight. Hell, he might just get out of this! He had overreacted with the grinning man; of course there was nothing going on with Charly. Still, the bloody nose served him right. Even if there was nothing going on, Rath was certain old perma-smile would jump at the opportunity. If Charly insisted he apologised, he would, but he’d also make it clear that it was time grin-face found himself someone else to comfort.
He stood up and moved towards the door. ‘My apologies,’ he said, pausing when he reached the outer office.
The old man’s chair was empty.
Rath ran out of the office and looked down the corridor, but there was no chance of catching him. He shook his head. He was a strange bird, but what he had said was entirely plausible.
It looked as if Abraham Goldstein hadn’t manifested himself as a killer, but as some kind of Boy Scout. At any rate a man of civic courage.
61
Charly felt strange as she stepped out of the telephone booth at Alexanderplatz. She had telephoned him within view of the station. Couldn’t she just have gone in? No, of course not, but the call had been smoother than expected. He didn’t realise how serious it was. Now she just had to see it through.
Crossing the enormous construction site, which was beginning to hint at how Alexanderplatz would soon look, she headed for Tietz. The department store’s restaurant was a good choice. Close to the station, but a place few police officers visited of their own accord. Who wanted to spend their lunch break among whining children and ill-tempered mothers?
It took a moment to see him. Lange had found a secluded table where they could talk uninterrupted.
‘Fräulein Ritter,’ he said, straightening her chair like a gentleman of the old school. ‘I’m glad you found the time to speak to me.’
He must be glowing red, she thought, taking her place opposite.
‘No doubt you’re wondering why I asked to meet here, rather than my office.’
‘I’m perfectly happy here,’ she said.
‘I have my reasons. The matters I’d like to discuss with you are strictly confidential.’
‘Aha.’ She lit a Juno. It seemed to make him nervous, or was he nervous already?
‘Superintendent Gennat thinks very highly of you. Did you know that?’ She found praise a little embarrassing, but it was good to hear. ‘Can I count on your discretion?’ he continued. ‘Only Superintendent Gennat, Dr Schwartz and I know about this.’
‘Not even Böhm?’
‘Not even Böhm.’
‘I thought you were working together.’
‘Not on this.’
‘Is it about Alexandra Reinhold?’
‘Indirectly. When we spoke recently we were interrupted by DCI Böhm.’
‘Don’t keep me in suspense.’
‘It concerns the death of Benjamin Singer. Alexandra’s accomplice, who died attempting to escape.’
‘The case you’re investigating, but that’s no secret.’
Lange cleared his throat, finding it very hard to utter the decisive sentence. ‘We have reason to believe,’ he said finally, taking a sip of Selters, ‘that Benjamin Singer was sent to his death by a police officer.’
He said it very softly, but still looked around as if someone might be listening. All of a sudden, Charly realised what he was after, and where the fear in Alex’s eyes had come from. ‘You need Alexandra Reinhold as a witness?’ she asked.
‘We received an anonymous call. Probably from this Alexandra. You cops killed Benny, the caller said.’