62
Rath hadn’t told anyone about the old man, who now seemed more like an apparition, with nothing tangible left but a few notes in his black book. Not even a name or address.
Erika Voss was surprised by the note with the swastika she found on her desk. She had returned quarter of an hour after the old man vanished, looking round in confusion before throwing the crumpled paper in the bin. Perhaps there was a Nazi in the office.
Reinhold Gräf also popped his head in after the lunch break before returning to his interview marathon. Rath briefly considered closing the door and telling his colleague about the old man, but decided against. He couldn’t face admitting to a junior officer that yet another witness had slipped through his fingers.
Especially not after Gräf had told him about the trader from the Scheunenviertel, who recognised Goldstein from the sketch. He had promised to protect him from criminal proceedings and received a valuable statement in return. A man fitting Goldstein’s description had bought a pistol from the trader’s shop the week before. He had paid with dollars for a Remington 51, a gun seldom used in Berlin.
‘It could be a direct hit,’ Gräf said, before returning to the interview room. ‘If the Kubicki bullet was fired from a Remington.’
Rath agreed, fetched a Pharus map from the drawer and unfolded it on his desk. Walking with Kirie it had occurred to him that they should be looking for Goldstein in Wedding, and Wedding alone. At first Rath had suspected it was Goldstein’s taxi driver who had advised shaking him off in Kösliner Strasse. But then: Goldstein’s second excursion: Humboldthain, Gesundbrunnen U-Bahn station – the same neighbourhood, a kilometre or two away from Kösliner Strasse at most.
That couldn’t be coincidence.
During that first, seemingly random, taxi journey across Berlin, Goldstein must have been up to something, but Rath got in the way. Something in this neighbourhood exerted a magical pull on Abraham Goldstein.
Studying the map, Rath took out a soft pencil and marked, first, Kösliner Strasse, then, Gesundbrunnen U-Bahn station. After staring for a while he drew a large circle around the area between the Ringbahn line and Christiania Strasse. Folding and pocketing the map he left Kirie in the devoted care of Erika Voss, and set off.
The longer he sat in his car, the better he felt. Something to do at last! He drove north via Rosenthaler Strasse until, at Humboldthain, he throttled back to look across at the Himmelfahrtkirche where they had found the dead SA man. Driving at a leisurely tempo past the southern entrance of the U-Bahn, where Goldstein must have emerged in pursuit of the old Jew and the brownshirts, he crossed the tracks of the Ringbahn.
His plan was simply to drive around the area he had circled. If there was something here that could help them pick up Abraham Goldstein’s trail, he’d find it. He usually did his best thinking while driving anyway.
From Badstrasse he turned left onto Pankstrasse, the road linking Kösliner Strasse with Gesundbrunnen, the two most prominent markings on his map. The road opened onto a large square on the right-hand side, above which stood the forbidding stone structure of the Wedding District Court.
He pulled over and surveyed the stern neo-Gothic façade as if it had something to tell him, trying to picture Goldstein here. What business could an American gangster have in a German court? Did he mean to kill a German criminal, a judge even? He made a few notes, drawing three large question marks underneath.
At Kösliner Strasse he stopped to glance at the Rote Laterne, which was already open, leaving the engine running. No, that wasn’t it either. Goldstein had gone into the pub to shake off Rath’s tail and recruit a few volunteers to smash up his Buick. A few curious faces peered through the vehicle’s windows. This, after all, was a red stronghold where two years ago Communists had taken to the barricades. Park an overly expensive car here, or even use a car, and you made yourself suspicious. He engaged first gear, turned right at the corner and continued along the banks of the Panke, which was concealed by thick trees and shrubs, until the rear façade of the District Court reappeared overhead. At length he reached the long wall of an S-Bahn depot, to re-emerge onto the busy Badstrasse.
As he was considering his next move, he realised he had found what he was looking for. A large sign at the junction at Exerzierstrasse said:
Jewish Hospital.
He took a sharp left onto Exerzierstrasse, a quiet residential street with next to no traffic. A lone tram rumbled over the road surface. Rath kept behind it until a three-storey building appeared on his right. More reminiscent of a school than a hospital, its carved lettering left him in no doubt. Krankenhaus der Jüdischen Gemeinde, it said. Jewish Community Hospital.
He parked the Buick under a tree and searched for the police sketch in the glove compartment. Before pocketing it, he unfolded it and looked again at the face: a good likeness. If Abraham Goldstein had been here in the last few days, he could be recognised from this.
He walked the few steps back to the hospital. The building on Exerzierstrasse was only one part of the complex; the much larger ward block rose behind it, with its entrance on Schulstrasse. Rath paused outside, unsure for a moment whether he should go in. Wasn’t he just making a fool of himself?
He had just decided to enter the grounds when a surprised cry prevented him.
‘Inspector?’
On the other side of the road, Sebastian Tornow, the police lieutenant training as a CID inspector, stood in the shadow of a tree. Rath almost didn’t recognise him in plainclothes. He went over.
Tornow surveyed him curiously. ‘What are you doing here?’
‘I could ask you the same question.’ Rath sounded more caustic than he intended, but somehow felt caught out. Stupid: apart from being on his own, he had done nothing wrong. ‘This is a coincidence.’
‘I’m working for Warrants. We received a tip-off.’ Tornow gestured towards the hospital. ‘Abraham Goldstein. Apparently he’s been seen here.’
The cadet didn’t seem particularly excited. In fact, he gave a disengaged impression overall. No wonder, with all the false sightings, but could this be the one? Suddenly, Rath was seized by the fever, that tingling in his veins he felt whenever things started to come together.
‘Well, perhaps you’re right this time,’ he said. ‘I’ve also received information which suggests Goldstein might have been here.’
Tornow brightened. ‘Perhaps we could go in together? Although it would be the fifth false lead for me today.’
‘Not quite as exciting as you thought then, CID work?’
‘What are you going to do?’ Tornow asked. ‘An apprentice is not his own master.’
‘Let me guess – Kilian said that?’
‘Respect! I see you know our colleagues well. You’ll have to tell me more about them sometime.’ He looked in the direction of Badstrasse. ‘There are a few nice cafes over there. What do you say?’
‘Business before pleasure. DCI Kilian must have taught you that too, or hasn’t he had the chance?’
‘Lack of business or lack of pleasure?’
Rath pointed to the hospital complex. ‘Come on. Let’s go inside and ask our questions, then the coffee’s on me. How about that?’
‘Your wish is my command, Sir.’
They crossed the street, Rath surveying the cadet out of the corner of his eye. They could use a man like him in Homicide, he thought, he’d be a good addition to his team. He’d be only too happy to part with Paul Czerwinski in exchange. He wondered why someone like Sebastian Tornow was assigned to DCI Kilian, of all people.