There might not.
And Shrill Voice was on his way back. ‘Change of plan,’ he told his partner, three short words that almost caused Russell’s heart to explode. ‘We’ve got to take him back to town.’
‘And do what with him?’
‘Let him go.’
‘What! Why for fuck’s sake? That’s another hour’s driving. We won’t get back from Rostock until God knows when.’
‘He didn’t give me his reasons,’ Shrill Voice said sarcastically.
‘Why didn’t you say we’d already killed him?’
‘I didn’t think of it.’
Scarred Man looked angrily at Russell. ‘Well, it’s too late now.’ He waved the gun towards the Mercedes. ‘I thought the fucking phone was out of order,’ he added, apparently to himself.
‘What’s happening?’ Russell asked in English, as if he had no idea.
Scarred Man lifted his gun, and for a second Russell thought he might use it. But the man just shook his head. ‘You one lucky bozo,’ he said in English, a quote no doubt from a Hollywood movie.
Russell climbed back into the trunk, trying to look bemused. Once the lid was down it was all he could do not to cry out with joy. He felt almost hysterical. If the phone had rung ten minutes later — or if some sweetheart of a Telefunken engineer hadn’t got their line working — he’d been halfway to Kyritz Wood. Some day he’d have to drive out there. The place he hadn’t been shot and buried.
He couldn’t remember a nicer trip in a trunk.
The return journey seemed shorter, but that didn’t surprise him. When the car eventually stopped, there was a long wait before the trunk was opened. Clambering out, he discovered why — they were parked at the side of the Chaussee, in the middle of the Tiergarten. His abductors had been waiting for an empty road.
He thought he should say something, but couldn’t think what, so he just started walking. He heard the slam of the door, and the purr of the motor as the Mercedes pulled away. He felt like falling to his knees and kissing the bare earth, but wasn’t sure how he’d ever get back to his feet.
A last game of chess
Russell was still wondering why as he worked his way round the flak towers and down past the Zoo. Why had Geruschke — or someone else — decided he needed killing? And what had changed his mind?
He was waiting for a bus on the Ku’damm when he remembered Fritsche’s young colleague. Luders might have useful things to say about the way these people operated, and Fritsche should have his address. The cafe he used as an office was only a short walk away.
Fritsche was sitting in his usual seat, hands resting intertwined on the table, staring into space. He looked up with a jerk when Russell loomed over him, and the momentary flash of fear was hard to miss.
‘Has something happened?’ Russell asked.
‘It’s Luders. He was beaten up in the street last night. Badly. An arm and a leg broken. He’s in the hospital.’
‘Christ. Does he know who it was?’
‘No, but he can guess.’
‘Has he — has anyone — brought the police in?’
Fritsche managed a wan smile. ‘The hospital doctor insisted, but he needn’t have bothered. There’s nothing to go on, and even if there was…’ He shrugged.
‘How is he?’
‘In a lot of pain. They’re low on morphine at the Elisabeth — only the very worst cases are given any. Half the ward seemed to be screaming when I went in this morning — it sounded like the end of a battle.’ Fritsch seemed to take in Russell’s appearance for the first time. ‘You look like you’ve seen a ghost yourself.’
‘My own.’ He told Fritsche what had had happened that morning: the news of Kuzorra’s death, his own abduction and unlikely reprieve.
Fritsch shook his head in wonder. ‘Someone up there likes you. But the men who took you — they sound like American gangsters. They take people for “rides”, don’t they?’
‘So did the Gestapo.’
‘True. So who have you annoyed?’ Fritsche wondered out loud.
Russell felt reluctant to name him. ‘The same bastard as Luders, I think. Maybe I should go and see the boy in hospital, compare notes.’
Fritsche grunted. ‘I don’t think that’s a good idea. If anyone’s watching it’ll look like a council of war, and Luders can’t even sit up in bed, let alone defend himself. Once he’s back on his feet I’m sure the young idiot will be happy to join forces. The two of you can sign a mutual suicide pact.’
‘I’d rather not.’
‘Good. Walk away, that’s my advice. Situations like this, all sorts of diseases are bound to be rife. And there’s precious little you can do about it until the situation changes. As long as you have a black market you’ll have people like Rudolf Geruschke. Once it disappears, so will he.’
‘And in the meantime?’
‘In the meantime, we live with the guilt of watching better men go down in flames.’
Russell admired the clarity, but not the world-view.
Back on the pavement, he found his knees were still shaky, and spent a few moments leaning against a convenient lamp post, wondering what to do next. Was there any point in going to the police or the occupation authorities? The pair who’d marched him out of the station were probably genuine soldiers, but was it worth looking for them? There were upward of ten thousand British troops in Berlin, and even if he found this particular duo it would only be his word against theirs.
There was certainly no point in openly declaring war on Geruschke — the man would hang him out for the crows. But he couldn’t just let him get away with it — he owed Kuzorra too much for that. He would stay out of the ring for a while, let Geruschke believe he’d been scared — not difficult, that — and then, very quietly and carefully, start amassing evidence. It might take a while, but he and maybe Luders would take the bastard down with good old-fashioned journalism.
A communal canteen offered itself, and he exchanged some ration stamps for a bowl of surprisingly tasty vegetable soup. ‘I’m alive,’ he told his reflection in the washroom mirror. ‘But Kuzorra isn’t,’ the reflection retorted.
A bus dropped him off on Dahlem’s Kronprinzenallee, and he walked back through the suburban streets to Thomas’s house, eyes peeled for any sign that he was being followed. Berlin felt less safe than it had that morning.
Once home, he shut himself up in his and Effi’s room. Feeling suddenly cold, he lay down under the blankets. He began to shiver, and realised that the shock was wearing off. An hour later, when Effi came in, he was more or less recovered, but she immediately knew that something had happened.
She listened aghast as he told her what. ‘And this was the man who had Kuzorra killed?’ she asked, after holding him tight for a minute or more.
‘I don’t know for certain. It could have been someone with a personal grudge that we don’t know about — Kuzorra must have made enough enemies in his years at the Alex. But Geruschke was the one he was after.’
‘And you weren’t?’
‘No, I just visited Kuzorra. All I can think is, I went to the Honey Trap before I knew Kuzorra had been arrested — I was looking for Otto, but Geruschke might think that was a cover story, that I was already investigating him when I heard about Kuzorra, and that I went to see Kuzorra because I hoped he could tell me more. So first he killed Kuzorra and then he came for me.’
‘But changed his mind,’ Effi said doubtfully.
‘Yes. It doesn’t make sense.’
‘Perhaps they were only trying to scare you,’ she suggested hopefully.
