‘Adamek’s a poacher?’
‘Any five-year-old will tell you that, but no one’s going to report him. Everyone gets something out of it. He supplies the entire catering trade in Treuburg. Besides, he’s a war hero who fought against the Russians; people don’t forget.’
‘Goddamn it,’ Rath said. ‘The things I’m expected to turn a blind eye to. Two days I’ve been here… it’s worse than Berlin!’
‘Look on it as an exercise in trust-building.’
‘Is that what they teach you at police academy these days?’
‘Sir, don’t make any trouble, otherwise we won’t get anything more out of him. Don’t forget we’re here for the Kaubuk. Besides…’ Kowalski gestured towards the back of his head. ‘I’m the one who’s borne the brunt of our truce.’
‘Let’s have a look.’ Rath inspected the cut, which was still bleeding slightly. ‘That’s going to leave a nasty bump. Make sure you keep it iced.’
Wilhelm Adamek soaked a cloth for Kowalski, which he served with the tea. They sat at the table in the lounge. He didn’t say anything about the bloody shirt, or Kowalski’s bump, or anything that had occurred in the last quarter of an hour. He hadn’t said a single word since his Masurian-Polish exchange with Kowalski.
‘Apologies again for bursting in like that, Herr Adamek,’ Rath began. It took some willpower, but Kowalski was right: they had to win Adamek’s trust if they were to get anything out of him. ‘We were acting in good faith. We’re here because we want to speak to you about Artur Radlewski.’
‘The Kaubuk…’ Adamek nodded, waiting for their questions.
A Rhinelander, Rath thought, would have declared himself satisfied with this conversational gambit and talked a blue streak; he would have positively effervesced with information and told them anything that came to mind, and more besides.
Clearly Masurians were more like Westphalians, which was no doubt why they felt so at home in Dortmund, Bochum or Gelsenkirchen. Rath imagined he was dealing with a Westphalian. An East Westphalian, at that.
‘You know something about the Kaubuk?’ he asked. Adamek nodded, but still said nothing. ‘You’ve seen him?’
Another nod.
‘Where?’
‘In the forest.’
Rath could tell this exchange was going to test the limits of his patience. ‘Can you be a little more precise?’
Adamek nodded again. Rath was about to probe further when the old-timer continued. ‘Out by the border. Less than a year ago.’
‘When, exactly?’
Adamek considered. ‘Before Christmas, I think. There was snow lying.’
‘Can you describe the man?’
‘He had a bow and arrow, as usual. Tanned; long hair, dressed in leather and hides.’
‘Like an Indian,’ Rath said, more to himself than Adamek.
‘Like the Kaubuk.’
‘You’re certain it was Artur Radlewski?’
‘It isn’t the first time I’ve seen the Kaubuk.’
‘You’ve come across him before?’
‘He lives out there. Spend enough time in his forest, and you’ll run into him every once in a while. I’m the only one around here who ventures that deep. Most people don’t like to, because of the moors. They can be treacherous if you don’t know your way around.’
Look at the man go! Rath felt proud at having persuaded him to open up like this. ‘But you. You know your way around?’ Adamek gave him a look of reproach, or contempt, perhaps, it was hard to tell. ‘Could you take us to him?’
Now the man’s gaze held plain suspicion. ‘Why?’
‘We urgently need to speak with him.’
‘He doesn’t speak with anyone.’
‘We’ll see about that. The police have their methods…’
‘You won’t find him. He isn’t there.’
‘Pardon me?’
‘Hasn’t been there all winter.’
‘How do you know that?’
‘Because there was no smoke from his hut, all winter long.’
‘You know where his hut is?’
‘No.’
‘But you just said…’
‘I said, I didn’t see any pillars of smoke over the moor.’
‘But you know Radlewski lives in a hut, and lights fires.’
‘How else would he survive the winter?’ Adamek looked at Rath as if he had taken leave of his senses.
‘And last winter he wasn’t there.’
‘That’s what I just said.’
Adamek must take him for a real windbag. ‘Could you take us there? To this hut?’
The old-timer looked at Kowalski, who shrugged, then back at Rath. ‘Not right there, but I could take you close.’
‘Fine,’ Rath said. ‘Take us close. We’ll manage the rest by ourselves.’
‘I wouldn’t advise it, the area’s dangerous. Lots of moorland. I wouldn’t advise anyone to go there. Besides, you won’t find him. He isn’t there.’
‘Perhaps he’s returned.’
‘He wasn’t there this morning.’
‘This morning?’
‘Where do you think I’ve just come from?’
‘How do you know he isn’t there? He won’t be lighting any fires in July.’
‘I can feel it.’
‘Pardon me?’
‘I can feel if there’s someone else in the forest. I can’t explain it.’
Rath gave up. ‘It’s some time since you saw Artur Radlewski. Do you think you could still describe him?’
‘I already have. Long hair, tanned, leather and hides…’
‘I mean his face. How he’d look if he cut his hair, or wore a suit.’
For the second time Adamek gazed at Rath as if he were a sandwich short of a picnic. ‘If you think it would help, but I can’t imagine the Kaubuk ever cutting his hair.’
43
The post office was the largest building in the marketplace, diagonally across from an advertising pillar newly covered by Communist posters. Rath didn’t have to wait long for a booth. Grigat had provided him with a desk and telephone in the district administrative office, but he preferred to sacrifice his loose change. Having now dispensed of Kowalski, he had no wish for the company of the meddling police constable.
Overzealous Kowalski had been itching to hunt for the Kaubuk, but Rath ordered him back to his uncle. ‘Go and see to that head of yours. Have a lie-down. You might be concussed; a little rest couldn’t hurt.’
‘Fresh forest air would do just as well.’
‘If Artur Radlewski is behind these murders he’ll be somewhere in Berlin, clean-shaven and freshly coiffed. The one place he won’t be is his forest retreat.’
‘If he’s finished the job, why shouldn’t he have returned?’
‘Old Adamek doesn’t think he’s there, and he was in the forest this morning. Besides, we don’t know that Radlewski has finished the job.’
‘We should still take a look at his hideout.’
‘We will, as agreed with Adamek. All in good time. First I need to call Berlin and submit my report. I won’t forget your contribution, Kowalski. You have a good nose.’
Kowalski was embarrassed by the praise. ‘It was thanks to my uncle, really.’
‘Give him my regards.’
After Kowalski was gone, Rath lit a cigarette and thought things through in peace. He did his best thinking alone; in fact, it was something he could do only when free of distraction.
He fetched the two files from the rear seat and skimmed them again. Martha Radlewski was forty-nine years old when she died, and hadn’t seen her only son in over ten years. Had the Kaubuk still cared about his mother and, if so, how had he learned of her death and the circumstances surrounding it?