Rosa

must have been directly in his path. There was nowhere else for him to go. Except in here.” Hoffner again looked across at Tamshik. It suddenly struck him that Tamshik had shown no surprise at his own appearance. It was as if Tamshik had been waiting for him. Things suddenly began to come clearer. Hoffner’s mind slowed. “Unless you thought he’d overpower you, Kommissar?” Hoffner’s tone sharpened. “A man of his tremendous size. Is that it?”

Tamshik stared blankly. “He was a maniac. I didn’t know what to expect.”

Hoffner returned the stare. “And the shot to his thigh wasn’t enough to stop him?”

“No. It wasn’t.”

“I find that hard to believe.”

“Believe what you like.”

“You were waiting for him, weren’t you?”

For just an instant, Tamshik’s eyes narrowed. “The man’s dead, Kommissar. You have a strange way of thanking someone for doing your job.”

Hoffner felt a sudden urge to step over and crack a fist across Tamshik’s face. Luckily, Fichte poked his head through the doorway at that moment. Hoffner could hear the wheezing in his breath.

“I heard shots,” said Fichte, catching his breath. He noticed Wouters. “Oh, God.” Fichte laughed nervously through his gasps. “You got him. Good Christ. We got him.”

“Yes, Herr Assistent,” said Tamshik from the far corner. “You got him.”

It was only then that Fichte saw Tamshik. He nearly jumped. “Kommissar Tamshik? What. .?” Fichte looked to Hoffner for an answer.

“Your Kriminal-Kommissar has gotten his man,” said Tamshik with mock admiration.

This only seemed to rattle Fichte further. “Yes,” he said uneasily.

Hoffner kept his eyes on Tamshik. “I shot no one, Hans.”

Tamshik said, “It’s a proud day for the Kripo, gentlemen.”

“‘A proud. .?’” murmured Fichte. Again, he looked to Hoffner. “I don’t understand.”

Tamshik spoke to Hoffner: “Think of all the money and time saved, Kommissar. No need for a trial. No reason to parade out your madman. And all because of your heroics. Well done.”

Hoffner had no idea what game Tamshik was playing. “Who were you pulling the trigger for, Tamshik? You’re not this clever. Who sent you down here?”

“Don’t worry, Kommissar,” said Tamshik with his accustomed venom. “This one’s all yours. No one needs to know about all the help you’ve gotten from the Polpo.”

Hoffner had heard enough. He started for Tamshik, but Fichte, still not knowing what was going on, had the good sense to hold him back. “He’s not worth the trouble, Nikolai,” he said in a whisper.

Slowly, Tamshik drew up to them. “Your case is closed, Herr Kommissar. Congratulations.” Hoffner managed to pull his arm free. “I wouldn’t do that,” said Tamshik coldly. He stared a moment longer, then nodded to Fichte. “Assistent.” Tamshik then stepped over Wouters’s body and headed out into the corridor.

When the footsteps had faded, Fichte released Hoffner’s arm. “What the hell just happened in here?” he said.

Hoffner remained motionless. He stared down at the body. Wouters had nothing to tell them, not now. Tamshik had made certain of that. Slowly Hoffner walked to the back of the room and slammed his hand into the wall.

“It is a bit odd.”

Kriminaldirektor Prager sat uncomfortably behind his desk. His skin was still pasty from sleep. Polpo Direktor Weigland sat across from him. It had been nearly twenty years since either of them had seen the Alex this early in the morning.

“I don’t know what he’s so upset about,” said Weigland. He turned to Hoffner, who was standing at the window. “Nikolai. The case is finished. Tomorrow the papers will call you a hero.”

Hoffner continued to stare out. The dull gray of pre-dawn hung over the square like an unwashed towel: it only reminded him of how tired he was. “I’ll ask one more time, Herr Direktor,” said Hoffner as he turned to the two men at the desk. “What was Kommissar Tamshik doing in the pit rooms of the Ochsenhof?”

Weigland threw up his hands as he looked across at Prager. “There’s no convincing him, Edmund. This is a gift horse. I don’t see what the problem is.”

“I understand,” said Prager: for the first time he was actually holding his own with the Polpo. “Kommissar Tamshik obviously had his reasons. We’re not interested in Polpo business. But you can understand the Kriminal-Kommissar’s concern.” Prager glanced over at Tamshik. The man stood unnervingly still. Fichte, by comparison, looked almost pitiful by his side. “That said,” Prager continued, “I think we can all take satisfaction in having eliminated this problem.”

Hoffner started in. “That’s not the point, Herr Kriminaldirektor-”

Prager put up a hand. “The bodies are here. They’ll be here tomorrow. Whatever else can wait until then.”

Hoffner disagreed. “I’m not sure that’s true.”

“You’re tired, Kriminal-Kommissar.” Prager was telling him, not consoling him. “You should take tomorrow at home. With your family. Take two days. The rest can wait.”

Hoffner stared across at Prager. There were any number of things he thought to say, but his mind was a jumble. Exhaustion was getting the better of him. More than that, he knew Prager was right. This wasn’t the time, nor the audience to press things any further. “Fine, Herr Kriminaldirektor.”

“Good,” said Weigland, his relief all too apparent.

Hoffner said, “Just so long as no one touches anything. Nothing happens until I see the bodies.”

“Of course,” Weigland said eagerly. “Naturally.” He wanted this done. “Everything stays exactly as it is tonight. No question.”

Hoffner ignored Weigland. He kept his eyes on Prager.

Prager said, “It’s still your case, Kriminal-Kommissar. Nothing gets touched.”

Hoffner nodded. He then looked over at Tamshik. “And I want that man nowhere near my evidence.”

Tamshik stared straight ahead as if he had heard nothing. Weigland spun back to Prager.

“Edmund, really!” Weigland’s exasperation had returned. “That tone was completely uncalled for.”

Hoffner said, “I think we’re beyond protocol, Herr Direktor.”

“We’re done here, Nikolai,” said Prager, ending any further discussion. Hoffner had overstepped the line. “You did well with this. Take your two days.” He glanced over at Fichte. “You as well, Herr Kriminal- Assistent.”

Fichte perked up. He blinked quickly several times. “Thank you, Herr Kriminaldirektor.”

There was nothing else to be said. The room became uncomfortably still. Finally, Hoffner picked up his hat and started toward the door. Fichte moved to join him, but Hoffner continued past him. “You get home safe, Hans, all right?” Fichte had hoped for more. Hoffner, however, was not in the mood.

Out on the Alex, Hoffner pulled up his coat collar. The air felt somehow kinder; it was of little comfort. Wouters’s eyes were still with him, their silence like a last stroke of the knife.

Hoffner peered up into the first light. Small specks of snow were swirling overhead. Odd, he thought. By nightfall, Berlin would be under a blanket of white.

PART TWO FOUR

K