A solitary man appeared in the silent street. There was a cigarette glowing in the corner of his mouth too. He approached the car and pulled open the back door on the driver’s side.
“Move up, Reinert,” he said hoarsely. “I’m not slim enough to squeeze in next to you any more.”
“It’s Mock,” Reinert said, and obediently moved across the seat.
Mock looked around the interior of the dark car and recognized other police officers from the Murder Commission: behind the steering wheel sat Ehlers, and the back seat was occupied by the inseparable Reinert and Kleinfeld. Next to the driver was a man in a top hat with his fat thighs spread across the seat. Mock did not recognize him.
“Tell me, gentlemen,” Mock whispered, “what are you doing here? And what about those clever investigators by the trees? Their cigarettes are visible from the banks of the Oder. Everyone leaving the Am Alten Oder tavern is asking himself: who are those two lurking beneath the trees? Don’t you think Doctor Rossdeutscher’s servants might be asking themselves the same question?”
“The servants aren’t home,” Ehlers said. “The cook and butler left the house at about six.”
“Who’s this?” said the stranger in the top hat. A monocle gleamed in one angry eye. “And what right has he got to be asking such questions?”
“Criminal Assistant Eberhard Mock, Doctor Pyttlik,” Ehlers said coldly. “He has more right than anybody to be asking such questions. And it’s our duty to answer them.”
“Don’t lecture me on my duties, Ehlers.” The monocle fell onto the lapel of the infuriated Doctor Pyttlik. “I, as the representative of the municipal authorities, am your superior here. I know who Mock is and I know the pitiful role he is playing in this case. I also know that Mock has been removed from the investigation and is on leave.” Doctor Pyttlik suddenly swivelled his hundred-kilogram body in his seat and the Adler rocked on its suspension. “What are you doing here, damn it, Mock? You ought to be mushroom-picking, or fishing …”
On his face Mock felt breath permeated with the smoke of a cheap cigar. In his head he counted to twenty in Latin and stared at the enraged Doctor Pyttlik.
“Herr Pyttlik, you said …” Mock was still whispering.
“
“Herr Pyttlik, you said you know the pitiful role I’m playing in this whole affair. And what role are you playing? Is it not equally pitiful?”
“How dare he!” Pyttlik choked on self-righteous indignation. “Tell him, Kleinfeld, who I am in all this …”
“You can tell him yourself,” Kleinfeld smiled. “You’re not some taciturn Moses for whom the eloquent Aaron has to speak.”
“I am here as the Mayor’s plenipotentiary.” Pyttlik raised his voice. “And I’m to see to it that the apprehension of Doctor Rossdeutscher takes place according to the law. Besides, I’m in charge of the operation and I’ll give the order when to start.”
“He’s in charge? He’s the boss here?” Mock gave himself a light slap on the cheek as if to sober up. “This is the new police president?”
“Without Herr Pyttlik’s decision …” Ehlers said.
“
“Herr Pyttlik decides.” Ehlers did not pay the slightest attention to the man. “Those are Commissioner Muhlhaus’ orders.”
“Where is Muhlhaus?” Mock rubbed his eyes.
“What business is that of yours?” Pyttlik lowered his voice to a whisper. “Go somewhere else, take a break … Go and pick some mushrooms …”
“Where is Muhlhaus?” Mock looked Reinert in the eyes.
“Negotiating,” Reinert muttered. “He’s asking the Mayor for permission to detain and question Doctor Rossdeutscher.”
“Now? He’s negotiating at night?” This time Mock looked at Pyttlik.
“Not now,” sighed the plenipotentiary, resigned. “Unfortunately, no. Just now the Mayor’s at a reception and won’t be receiving Commissioner Muhlhaus until tomorrow. And we have to sit here until the morning to wait for the Mayor’s decision. Because we can’t leave this house …” He threw a longing glance at the nearby tavern.
Mock climbed out of the car and slammed the door. He stood on the pavement for a moment and stared at one of the windows of the villa. Suddenly a woman’s voice rose above all the others. A high-pitched incantation reached the ears of the police officers. The song of the sirens. This association helped Mock regain peace of mind after his exchange with Pyttlik. He was back in the classroom in his secondary school, in a classics lesson. Amidst maps of Italia and Hellas, amidst plaster busts on which pupils had left the marks of their schoolboy woes, amidst Greek and Latin conjugations, young Eberhard Mock gives his answers. He recites a fragment of
“They’re happy. Singing away,” Pyttlik said, indicating the bright windows of Rossdeutscher’s villa. “But what’s with him?” He pointed at Mock. “Has he gone mad? What’s he gabbling about?”
Mock walked around the car and up to the passenger window from which poked a top hat.
“Thank you for your explanation, Doctor Pyttlik,” said Mock. “I have one more question. I wanted to make sure. I don’t know whether you are aware … Doctor Rossdeutscher made use of the services of the four murdered male prostitutes, so he is most likely the last person to have seen them. He has to be questioned. Nobody is doing so. Instead the Mayor sends you, Doctor, makes you responsible for the entire operation — in other words entrusts you with Commissioner Muhlhaus’ duties, but has no time for Commissioner Muhlhaus himself. Is that it, Doctor Pyttlik?”
“I won’t take this,” Pyttlik said and flounced in his seat, making the car sink once more on its new, beautifully balanced suspension. “Your insinuations regarding the Mayor are highly …”
Mock whistled three times. He then spread his fingers across Pyttlik’s bloated face and gave it a hard push towards Ehlers. He heard the crunch of a top hat being crushed. Six men rushed into the street from the tavern side, and seven more from the park. The two detectives beneath the trees left their posts and walked up to the Adler in bewilderment. Pyttlik tried to clamber out of the car in his squashed hat.
“Now I’m in command,” Mock said to the face of the raging boor, and he jammed the door with his foot.
“This is an act of violence!” Pyttlik yelled, unable to climb out of the car. “An assault on a representative of the Mayor! I’ll make you pay for this, Mock. You’re finished! Seize him!” he shouted to the two detectives who had left their posts beneath the linden trees and were now watching the whole incident with expressions of indifference. “Arrest him!”
“Don’t move,” Ehlers barked at them from the car. “This is an assault, Doctor Pyttlik. You said so yourself. We’ve been terrorized.”
“He assaulted me! Attacked me!” Pyttlik hollered, and again the Adler rocked from side to side. “You are my witnesses!”
“Did you see anything, Kleinfeld?” Reinert asked languidly as he watched Mock force open the dangerously spiky railings with the help of a towering strongman.
Mock’s men easily cleared the fence and dispersed around Doctor Rossdeutscher’s villa at a run. The giant opened the kitchen door with what Reinert surmised was a pick-lock. Mock said something in a low voice to a short man in a bowler hat and the latter passed this on to the strongman with a few hand movements. Mock entered the house and his men slipped in after him.
“Did you see anything, Kleinfeld?” Reinert asked again. “Did anyone attack anyone?”
“No, nothing at all,” Kleinfeld muttered. “All I see is that Herr Pyttlik can’t make himself comfortable in the car. He keeps on wriggling like Jonah in the belly of the whale.”
27. IX.1919
In the evening there was to be a meeting at which we had to gain the acceptance of the deities. The summoning of the Erinyes did not in itself seem a difficult task, but to do this contrary to the will of the Highest would have been a terrible sacrilege. My duty as chronicler of our brotherhood is to describe accurately these rites of acceptance.
Present at the meeting were: the Master, the Brothers Eckhard of Prague, Hermann of Marburg and Johann of
