For his part, Schulz seemed to laugh off such accusations, asking for proof, which no one ever seemed to be able to provide. There were plenty of close calls, and numerous testimonies from stained persons, but no indelible evidence linking him to the myriad of accusations.
He’d been worth several million marks at the time of his appointment, when he was a successful business attorney operating in the private sector in Bonn. Greatly adding to Schulz’s legend, the very first head of the Treuhandanstalt was assassinated in 1991, shortly after taking the newly formed office. The man had been thumbing through a book by his living room window and was assassinated by a rifle bullet fired from a home across the street. A letter was left at the scene, claiming that the shooter was a Red Army Faction member.
The authorities quickly named a suspect, who was indeed a member of the Red Army Faction, but he was not apprehended. The suspect went into hiding and wasn’t heard from for a number of years.
Eventually, the chief suspect’s location was discovered. He was living under a false identity in the north of Germany. After considerable planning by law enforcement, the suspect was arrested while waiting for a train at the Bad Kleinen train station near Hamburg. But before he ever had a chance to answer for his crime, he purportedly threw himself in front of the approaching train. At the same time he leaped in front of the train, he shot himself, taking his own life. This fantastic account was obviously met with great skepticism. Many people alleged that the GSG-9 shot the suspect at the Bad Kleinen train station, then shoved him in front of the approaching train.
Others alleged that Rainer Schulz, master of puppets, had orchestrated everything.
No one was ever tried or convicted in the suspect’s death, nor in the death of the original head of the Treuhandanstalt. Once again, if Schulz was somehow involved, he’d skated by the entire mess—and made a subsequent fortune in the process.
So, in 1991, a month after the assassination, the largely unknown Schulz was named the Treuhandanstalt’s new chief. Over time, he was widely criticized for his handling of nearly all of the administration’s activities that resulted in millions of unemployed Germans. In Schulz’s defense, Gage found statements from a number of respected global business leaders and experts who believed Schulz did about as good as anyone possibly could, given the circumstances.
Despite Schulz’s performance, he parlayed his nominal net worth into a hundred million Deutsche Marks by the end of the millennium, investing heavily in American tech stocks. Many in Germany believed he hadn’t started with enough money to create such wealth, and the basis had come via nefarious laundered sources. Regardless, his affluence star was set. Then, displaying amazing prescience, Schulz wisely hedged against the markets in 2001, further expanding his wealth during the global crash. When the markets roared back to life in 2004, Schulz was again on the correct side, tripling his net worth by 2007. By that point, the die was cast and Schulz found himself among the European elite. He wasn’t simply affluent; he’d built wealth for ten generations. But he wasn’t finished. His assets continued to grow, through recession and boom. According to Der Spiegel, he now employed a staff of 21 people, all of whom helped him manage his immense fortune.
Schulz was divorced, had no children, and lived on a highly fortified estate east of Berlin. He typically spent a few months each year at his only other home in the south of Spain. Gage could find little else about the man’s personal life.
No matter what he knew or didn’t know, Gage would certainly learn more today. Because, as a cold mist fell outside, the ICE train glided into the Berlin Hauptbahnhof. From here, Gage would head downstairs and take the S5 to Alexanderplatz. And it was there he would meet the man who could very well be the person responsible for killing Karl Vogel.
Now, if Gage only knew why.
* * *
Gage had been to Alexanderplatz before. One of the busiest tourist areas in all of Berlin, the broad plaza was ringed by a host of famous attractions, the center of which was the iconic Fernsehturm, a towering Space Needle-like tower with a revolving restaurant on top. The plaza and surrounding sights were sparsely populated on this day due to the cold rain that had intensified over the last half-hour. One brave tourist took pictures from under an umbrella—the rest scurried from place to place in the miserable weather. Just as he had with his investments, Rainer Schulz had demonstrated prescience by choosing such a warm coffee shop on this cold and rainy day.
Upon entering the coffee shop, Gage realized just how large it was. Occupying two levels, the shop boasted floor to ceiling windows on each level. The effect was that of a fishbowl, allowing patrons to view the activity and sights of the plaza from the comfort of the café. Counteracting the visual stimulation was the lack of sound in the coffee house. The rubberized, almost foam-like floor must have been aimed at dampening noise because the effect was nearly that of walking into a library. There were tables, comfortable chairs and sofas arranged haphazardly. It was clear to see that the owners of the coffee shop didn’t mind their customers rearranging the furniture in order to create space for conversation and collaboration. There were even old-fashioned, portable chalkboards that could be wheeled into place for meetings. Those that weren’t being used were decorated in tasteful designs built around clever quotes from historical figures. One quote from Albert Einstein caught Gage’s eye:
‘The important thing is not to stop questioning. Curiosity has its own reason for existing.’
Gage stared at the quote, unable to contain his smile. No, he wasn’t an investigator. And,
