Oppenberg was already seated when Rath entered at half past eight. It was an exclusive restaurant and Rath felt a little out of place in his off-the-peg suit.
‘I’ve ordered a bottle of wine,’ the producer said.
‘Thank you, not for me.’ Rath asked for a glass of Selters.
‘Your decision, my friend. Hopefully you won’t be so modest when it comes to your food. That would be a sin here.’
Rath would have preferred to eat something more substantial at Aschinger, but he bowed to his fate and studied the menu.
‘I’d recommend the fish,’ Oppenberg said, and Rath joined him in his choice. ‘You requested this meeting, which means you have news.’
‘That depends. At any rate, you should get used to the idea of finding another lead actress for Vom Blitz getroffen.’
‘Has she…what have you discovered? Does the taxi driver know the man who collected her?’
Rath shook his head. ‘I’m afraid not. I still don’t know anything for sure but, at the very least, she was forced to change her plans abruptly.’
‘What makes you think that?’ Oppenberg reached nervously into the bread basket.
‘You remember her last taxi journey? Before she was picked up by this stranger in Wilmersdorf she had her suitcases brought to Bahnhof Zoo, to left luggage.’
‘So what?’
‘They’re still there.’
Oppenberg had to chew longer on this piece of news than on the slice of white bread he had just spread with butter and shoved in his mouth. ‘How do you explain that?’
‘I can’t believe she meant to leave her cases for three or four weeks in left luggage. Something unexpected must have happened.’
Oppenberg lit a cigarette, and Rath realised he hadn’t been expecting bad news. The waiter brought the starters, but Oppenberg didn’t touch his. Instead he continued smoking. ‘Damn it!’ he said. ‘Are you saying I should prepare myself for the worst?’
‘Not necessarily, but it doesn’t bode well.’
‘You’ve already written her off!’
‘I fear, anyway, that I won’t be able to carry out your assignment. I can’t bring Vivian back.’ Rath pushed a green banknote across the table. ‘There was one picture too many in your envelope.’
Oppenberg understood and didn’t hesitate long before pocketing the fifty. ‘Can you see that your colleagues stop badgering me about Felix? I told your Böhm that we had parted on bad terms, but he seems to give more credence to Bellmann’s claim that I put a saboteur and murderer onto him.’
Rath shrugged. ‘They’ve taken me off the case. I can only advise you to be careful. If you want to keep your involvement in the whole thing under wraps – fine. I won’t stab you in the back, but don’t underestimate the police. If they start grilling your friend…’
‘Felix has always been loyal. Besides, they need to find him before they can interrogate him.’
‘Do you think it’s possible he’s found a new hideout in Grunewald somewhere? In the allotments, for example? Does he know anyone there who could help him?’
‘Don’t ask so many questions at once, otherwise I won’t know which to respond to first.’
‘How about the ones you know the answer to? Apparently Krempin is holed up there somewhere. My colleagues think he’s a murderer, the press think he’s a murderer. I’m the only one who believes he’s innocent. It’s better I find him, and not one of them.’
‘And the accusation of sabotage? Will that go by the board if you find Felix?’
Rath shook his head. ‘If he wants to be cleared of murder, he’ll have to admit to his sabotage plans.’
‘I hope my name can be kept out of all this.’
‘That depends entirely on your friend. I don’t have any influence there.’
Oppenberg stubbed his cigarette out and reached for his cutlery. ‘I have a proposition,’ he said. ‘I’ll help you track down Felix Krempin if you keep looking for Vivian.’
‘If you don’t just help but actually find Krempin, then maybe.’
‘Well, if you don’t stop at searching, but find Vivian for me.’
‘I’ll do my best.’
‘Then it’s a deal,’ Oppenberg said. ‘Did the photos help? Did the taxi driver recognise anyone?’
‘Just Krempin, from the mugshot.’ Rath took the photo of the dark-haired actor from his bag. ‘He said this one was similar to the man who picked up Vivian.’
‘Gregor? Vivian hardly noticed him.’
‘The taxi driver only said he was similar. Do you know anyone else who looks like this? Could be a producer as well.’
Oppenberg shook his head indignantly. ‘I think it’s a waste of time only searching among my people. Why don’t you show this taxi driver a few photos of Bellmann’s lot? Perhaps it was one of them who picked her up and she’s been made to stew in some hovel underground for weeks!’
‘You think Bellmann abducted her to prevent you from shooting your film?’
‘He’s capable of it. Perhaps he paid to have her abducted. There are enough criminals in this city who would do that.’
Rath thought of Johann Marlow. He probably wouldn’t let himself be roped into such a dirty job. But perhaps Dr M. would know someone who might. He must still have his number, the number that wasn’t in any telephone book.
He had already polished off two beers and two shorts when Gräf arrived. The atmosphere inside the Nasse Dreieck was already sticky and the gust of fresh air that blew in with the detective did nothing to change that. Rath gave Schorsch a brief nod, and the bartender put two more glasses under the tap. Gräf took his seat beside Rath at the bar.
‘You’re smoking again?’
‘What makes you say that?’ Rath muttered, lighting an Overstolz. The bartender placed two beer glasses on the counter, along with two schnapps. The pair clinked glasses, drained the schnapps and washed them down with beer. ‘Has Böhm had his hooks in you all this time?’
Gräf shook his head. ‘I had something else to do.’ He took a large brown envelope from inside his coat. ‘My report on the Wessel burial. You can file it tomorrow, but it’s the last time I do a favour like that for you. It was more of a street fight than a funeral.’
Rath opened the envelope, pulling out a stack of folded typing paper. ‘That’s at least ten pages.’
‘Twelve. I did it out of friendship.’
‘I don’t know what to say.’ Rath pocketed the envelope.
‘I can think of something.’
‘All right, all right.’ Rath laughed. ‘The drinks are on me.’
‘Lucky, given how thirsty I am,’ Gräf said.
‘Thanks to your help, I should be through with my punishment tomorrow.’
‘You think Böhm’s going to let you back on the Winter case? I wouldn’t get your hopes up.’
Rath shrugged. ‘If he doesn’t, you can keep me up to date.’
Gräf tilted his head to one side. ‘You’re not planning on going it alone?’
‘I just want to know how everything’s progressing. It was our case, and we were doing pretty well until Böhm interfered. And now? Is he making you scour the allotments in Grunewald?’
‘Work like that needs to be done. Need I remind you that when I was working for you, my main jobs were to sit in the office and fob Böhm off. And if I were to track down our prime suspect… I certainly wouldn’t object.’
‘You think Krempin meant to kill Winter?’
‘Why else would he make himself invisible?’
‘Because everyone thinks he meant to kill Winter: the police, Bellmann, the entire big city press, and with it half of Berlin.’
‘We should never have let Bellmann go through with that stupid press conference.’
‘He would have got his conspiracy theories out there one way or another. Besides, he’s not entirely wrong. Only Krempin is no murderer.’
Rath went through the theory he had only been able to sketch in the most cursory fashion that morning at briefing.
‘And you believe this Oppenberg?’ Gräf asked.
Rath shrugged his shoulders. ‘No less than Bellmann. The pair of them are desperate because a crafty screenwriter sold them the same story twice, and whichever film comes out first could be vital for each firm’s survival.’
‘They’re shooting the same film? I don’t think the author is allowed to do that. There must be a clause in his contract which prevents him from selling the story to other parties.’
‘I’ll know more tomorrow after I meet with him.’
‘I’m starting to wonder who’s keeping who up to date!’
‘I’ll tell you what I find out and you can start collecting points for your next promotion. You just have to make sure Böhm doesn’t take all the credit himself.’
Gräf shook his head. ‘You’re incorrigible, Gereon,’ he said, raising his glass. ‘Only bearable under the influence.’