Charly felt uneasy but Paul’s presence alone reassured her. He gave the impression that nothing could go wrong while he was there. Even now a mocking grin was stretching across the corner of his mouth.
To think she had almost left him in Gereon’s office. She had been on the telephone to Wilhelm Böhm, had just received the green light for the operation, indeed, had been about to head to the motor pool when she suddenly remembered him and retraced her steps. He hadn’t realised.
Böhm had sounded surprised but pleased when she called him at home. ‘Good to hear from you, Charly.’
‘I’m in Homicide.’
‘Oh?’
‘We have reason to believe that Gereon Rath is in danger. He paid an official visit to a witness who might have something to do with the cinema killer; who may even be the killer himself. At any rate, he hasn’t returned, he’s stood up his friend and…’
‘Rath can’t be anywhere on official duty. He’s been suspended.’
‘No one told me about that.’
‘No one knows.’
‘Why was he suspended?’
‘For any number of infringements. He’ll face a disciplinary hearing. I can’t give details.’
The news had shocked her. Had Gereon gone and got himself into trouble again? She thought of the thing with Brenner, but what else had he been up to? Any number of infringements.
So what, though? Right now, he was in danger.
She had begged and beseeched, but it hadn’t been easy to persuade the DCI to place a few people on standby.
‘Only because it’s you, Charly,’ he had said at last. ‘Check the lie of the land on your own first, as a private citizen. I don’t want the Prussian police making fools of themselves in a Wannsee villa if it should prove to be a false alarm which, this being Rath, wouldn’t come as a great surprise.’
‘Understood,’ Charly said, doing a little jump for joy inside.
Now she was standing outside the same Wannsee villa, which looked more like a forbidding stronghold, unsure whether she was about to make a fool of herself or expose herself to danger. Böhm had given her a whistle, the classic way to summon help.
Nothing stirred inside the house. She rang the bell again.
‘Let me do the talking,’ Paul said. ‘I look less like a police officer than you do.’
She nodded.
At last they heard steps. An old, white-haired man opened the door. ‘What can I do for you? We don’t buy anything at the door.’
‘Please excuse the lateness of our visit,’ Paul began in his best wine trader’s voice, ‘we’re not trying to sell anything. We’re looking for a friend who left us a message to say he was at this address. Does the name Gereon Rath mean anything to you?’
‘You are indeed too late,’ the servant said. ‘Herr Rath was here, but that was hours ago. It’s almost half past ten, in case you hadn’t noticed.’
‘When did he leave?’
‘I can’t say exactly; the master saw him out personally. I was preparing dinner.’
‘I know it’s late, but could we speak to Herr Marquard?’
The servant looked as if he had been asked to dance the Charleston in a banana skirt. ‘I don’t know if I can disturb Herr Marquard. You can take me at my word, your friend is certainly no longer here.’
‘Perhaps Herr Marquard knows where he’s gone,’ Charly said. ‘Please, it’s very important.’
She thought the man was going to slam the door in their faces. He did, as well, but first he said: ‘One moment please. I’ll ask if Herr Marquard has time.’
Paul and Charly looked at one another.
‘If it wasn’t so sad it’d be funny,’ he said. ‘I’m beginning to sense our fears were a little premature. It doesn’t seem dangerous. They’re just unfriendly.’
‘At least we know Gereon was here.’
‘Yes, but I haven’t seen his car. So, he must have left again.’
‘But where?’
‘No idea.’
‘What if they’re both lying at the bottom of the Wannsee?’
‘Don’t exaggerate, there’s no reason to panic.’
‘I’m not panicking.’
Again they heard steps. The door seemed to open even more slowly this time.