by James Green
NINETEEN
After an hour and a quarter the train arrived on the outskirts of Lübeck and Jimmy made a call to the number Udo had given him.
‘Costello. I’m on my way in.’
No one at the other end had spoken. The phone had just gone dead.
Lübeck station was a big place and busy. Jimmy left the train. He knew Bronski was behind him somewhere but there was nothing he could do about that yet, so he followed the signs that took him out to the taxi rank. He showed the driver of the first taxi a slip of paper with an address Udo had written on it. The driver nodded. Jimmy got in and the taxi pulled away.
The address wasn’t that far from the station, a side street of run-down terraced houses among several side streets of run-down terraces. The taxi stopped, the driver turned and said something, then pointed. This was it.
Jimmy got out of the taxi, paid and watched it go, then looked up and down the street. He wasn’t looking for anyone, he was just looking. He hadn’t thought about what to expect but he wished Udo’s friend had had a better address. He went to the door and rang the bell. It was opened by a dumpy old woman who wheezed and looked at him without interest.
‘I was told to come here. You are expecting me. I phoned.’
Nothing.
‘Udo Mundt sent me.’
The woman wheezed on and still looked at him but now with a mixture of curiosity and fear. Obviously she had no idea what he was talking about and Jimmy had no idea what to do next. Then she said something in rapid German. Jimmy didn’t speak any German but he didn’t need to, he got the gist. Who are you? What do you want?
He didn’t think it would do any good but he tried again anyway.
‘Udo Mundt sent me.’
He held out the piece of paper. She took it, read it and then looked at him. Now she was confused and frightened; it must be the right address. She shoved the paper back at him and the rapid German began again, this time with gestures. Once more Jimmy didn’t need an interpreter. I know nothing of this, go away, this is a respectable house. Go away or I will call the police.
Jimmy turned away and the door banged shut behind him. He walked up the street a short way then he stopped. He was alone in a city he didn’t know with somebody following him who probably wanted him dead and he had no idea what to do or where to go. What the hell had Udo been playing at?
A black Mercedes pulled up beside him with the window down. The driver leaned across.
‘Please get in, Mr Costello.’ Jimmy didn’t move. ‘Udo Mundt sent me to meet you. He told me you were coming. That I should meet you at this address. I got the call you made, so I knew you were arriving.’ Jimmy got in and the car pulled away. ‘A little precaution, you understand. Udo was sure you would not give anyone the address but, well, things happen that one cannot foresee. If anyone got that address from you, it wouldn’t take them anywhere. We have to be careful. You come from Udo, so of course we trust you, but still it is wise to be careful, yes?’
Jimmy nodded. Yes, it was wise to be careful.
The car pulled out of the side street and made a left turn. ‘Where are we going?’
‘If I told you, would it mean anything?’
‘No. I was only making conversation.’
The driver laughed, he seemed a happy sort of bloke. ‘We are going across the river to Hansestadt. You’ll like it there, a lively place, lots going on, plenty of bars. You like beer?’
‘Yes, I like beer.’
‘Good, we’ll go to a bar and talk. We have to talk. There is much to arrange.’
‘Yes, and first on that list is the how much?’
The driver didn’t laugh. He thought about it. Then he laughed because he’d worked it out.
‘The how much? That is good, very good. An English joke. We will have a few beers and arrange the how much?’ The voice became serious. ‘Udo told you it would cost, that it would not be cheap.’
‘He told me you were his friends.’
‘Of course. We are very much Udo’s friends. But even for friends ...’ He took a hand off the wheel and rubbed the tips of his fingers together. ‘Nothing is free. There will be expenses, we all have to make a living. Not everyone can walk away from life and become a priest like Udo.’ The laughter came back. ‘The world needs its sinners. After all, if there were no sinners then the likes of Udo would go out of business, yes?’
They came to a junction where they made another left on to a busy main road. The run-down terraces were gone now and shops and offices lined the road.
‘Udo isn’t worrying, the supply of sinners was holding up pretty well last time he looked.’
The driver laughed again.
‘Yes, plenty of sinners, always plenty of sinners making a living, keeping the Udos and the police in work. So the world goes, my friend, as you well know, I can see.’
Yes, thought Jimmy, as I well know. He looked at the driver, not big-built but tall, over six feet. Then he looked at the Merc. It was expensive and well-turned out just like the driver. Jimmy didn’t know much about fashion but he could tell an expensive suit when he saw one, and the one the driver was wearing was very expensive. This bloke made a living from his sins all right, a good living. But it didn’t matter. If you paid, you got the service; the more you paid, the better the service.
The main road went round a big traffic island and over a bridge across a river. Facing them was a long, formal park – at the far end was some sort of fortress made up of two massive, round towers. Between the towers and connecting them was an archway with two elaborate storeys above it. Each tower was topped off by a huge black cone. It was very impressive but to Jimmy it looked like something from Disneyland.
‘The Holstentor, the Holsten Gate, very famous, very wonderful.’
‘Sure, wonderful. I’ll need a gun.’
It didn’t even get a glance. It was as if he’d asked for a cigarette.
‘Do you have any preference?’
‘Preference?’
‘Automatic, revolver, calibre? Will you need a silencer, special ammunition?’
‘Just a gun. Something to stop somebody with.’
That got a glance.
‘You are good with a gun?’
‘I’ve never used one in my life. When you get it you’ll have to show me how it works.’ Jimmy looked at him. They both accepted that a number of lies would get told by each of them. But only small lies, ones that didn’t really matter. ‘I’ll pay for the lesson, of course.’
That got a genuine laugh – Jimmy could tell the difference. The car crossed another bridge over another river or the same river that had found a different way round. Once over the bridge, the Mercedes turned right and drove along the riverside. The buildings facing the river were of a style Jimmy liked but didn’t know, several storeys high with big windows and stepped gables at the top, some gables curly-wurly and decorated, some severely plain. The curly-wurly-topped frontages were painted, mostly white, the plain ones had been left red brick, but all had been built when there was plenty of old money and were well kept up now because there was plenty of new money. Somehow, he thought of them as Dutch, not German, but then, what the hell did he know about architecture? Lübeck seems a nice place, thought Jimmy, just like Udo said.
‘I like you, Jimmy. I may call you Jimmy?’ Jimmy nodded. ‘I like you. You make me laugh. When we get to the bar I will tell you how much to look after you. How much for the gun,’ he laughed again, ‘and of course how much for the lesson.’ Jimmy looked past the driver at the riverside, all expensive and well turned out like him. He liked it and he decided he liked the driver. They would get along. ‘And for you, we’ll make it all a special price.’
Jimmy laughed, he felt it was expected. ‘I don’t mind paying the going rate.’
‘Of course you don’t. Udo said you could pay. But if I didn’t make a special rate how could I ever look Udo in the eye again? You will get a special rate and tip-top service. I promise.’
‘A
nd the gun?’
‘The best, German, no foreign rubbish. An East German gun. Ex-Stasi issue.’
‘Will it stop somebody with one bullet? I told you, I’m a novice with guns. I may get one shot but I doubt I’ll get a second.’
‘You will stop him, whoever he is, but only if you hit him. I can answer for the weapon but not for the one who pulls the trigger.’
The car turned left, drove a short way, then made a right. It was a nice enough street. The same sort of frontages but not so big or grand as the riverside ones. Everything since they crossed the river looked like an old part of the city, the sort of place tourists would like, classy and historic, and he was sure the prices would be classy too. The car pulled up outside a bar. Jimmy looked at the name above the door: El Sombrero. Above street level, from the first floor up, the old Lübeck frontage seemed to try and distance itself from the large Mexican hat and the bright yellows and reds of the paintwork.
Bloody hell, thought Jimmy, we’re in the middle of a place that has decent-looking beer houses everywhere and he brings me to a Mexican bar. Well, it was his town, let him get on with it. It was the middle of the afternoon at the tail end of the tourist season so the place wasn’t busy, only a few of the tables had people talking and drinking. The driver was obviously known and, by the welcome he got, was a good customer. He introduced Jimmy, in German, to a man behind the bar, who didn’t look Mexican but did look like he owned the place. The owner looked at Jimmy then reached across the bar and offered his hand. Jimmy shook it then followed the driver to a table. The waiter brought two beers. The driver raised his glass.
‘Cheers, Jimmy.’
Jimmy raised his glass and took a drink. The beer was good, very good, so he decided to forget the Mexican decor that surrounded them and took another drink. So long as the beer was good, the look of the place didn’t matter.
‘So, I’m Jimmy. Who are you?’
‘Otto. Long Otto, because even as a child I was tall.’
‘Hello, Otto.’
There was something vaguely familiar about him but he had never seen him before. Why did he look familiar?
‘Why do I get the feeling I know you from somewhere?’
‘Because already we are such good friends. We laugh together, talk, drink beer. It is like we have known each other for years.’ Whatever it was it wasn’t that.
‘Or maybe I remind you a little of Udo.’
That’s what it was. A slightly younger, taller Udo, with money and style.
‘Yeah, you remind me a bit of Udo.’
‘Why not? I should remind you of Udo. He’s my older brother.’
‘Your brother? He never mentioned a brother to me.’
Otto shrugged. ‘These things happen. Udo and I used to be close but when he decided to become a priest, well, I could see how my line of work would not have suited him. Now he goes his way and I go mine but we keep in touch.’
‘Did Udo tell you what this is about?’
‘No, and I don’t want to know. You don’t want to be found for a while. That’s all I need to know. The rest is none of my business.’
‘What if it’s dangerous?’
‘It will only get dangerous if anyone finds you, and no one will find you. We’re good at what we do. Excuse me, I see friends.’
Otto got up and went to talk to a man and woman who had come in and gone to the bar. Jimmy thought about it. It will only get dangerous if somebody finds you. But it didn’t really take any thinking about. If Otto was looking after him, he had to know. Otto came back and sat down.
‘Somebody already has found me.’ That got Otto’s attention. ‘I was followed here. There’s a guy called Charlie Bronski who lives in Denmark. He’s got the crazy idea I want to kill him.’
‘And what gave him that crazy idea?’
‘His car got blown up.’
‘He survived a car bomb?’ Surprise and disbelief were nicely blended.
‘No, there must have been a warning of some sort. He got out.’
‘Who plays games like that?’
‘I don’t know, but not me. Anyway, he’s got it into his head the bomb was down to me so when I ran he followed. He got careless at Neumünster station and I spotted him. He’s why I need a gun.’
Otto smiled.
‘Then you don’t need a gun.’
‘No?’
‘No. When we look after someone we supply the whole package. If this Bronski character becomes a problem he will be our problem, not yours.’
‘OK, Otto, this is your turf, we’ll do it any way you say.’
‘Is there anybody else I should know about besides Bronski?’
Jimmy shook his head. It wasn’t one of the small lies, but that didn’t count because in a way it wasn’t really a lie at all. Otto shouldn’t know about Mossad and the CIA because they weren’t Charlie Bronski on his own. If Otto knew about them he might change his mind about whether this hiding thing was worth the money. So ...’
‘No, there’s nobody else you should know about.’
‘Good.’
‘You were going to tell me how much this is going to cost.’
‘Udo told you it wouldn’t be cheap?’
Jimmy nodded. ‘He told me.’
It turned out Udo was dead right. It wasn’t cheap. Jimmy just hoped the standard of service Otto was going to give was as high as the price. They shook hands, it was a deal.
‘I’ll get us schnapps to drink to it.’ And he waved to the waiter.
‘I’ll stick to beer if that’s OK. It’s good beer and I don’t drink spirits as a rule.’
‘Sure, just as you like.’
The waiter came and took the order.
‘Now, tell me all about yourself. We will become friends, just like old friends.’
‘Born in London, raised there, became a copper, retired, went to stay with Udo. From there on, you already know.’
‘That’s it?’
‘Do you need any more?’ Otto laughed.
‘No, I do not need any more. The more I listen to you, the more I like you. You talk but you don’t talk too much. You don’t ask any questions that you don’t have to and you answer the ones that need an answer. The only thing I don’t like is that bit about being a policeman.’
‘It was a long time ago, ancient history, like your Holsten Gate.’
The drinks came. Otto held up his schnapps. ‘Here’s to you, my friend, and a quiet life.’
Jimmy picked up his beer.
‘God’s mittens.’
‘What?’
‘God’s mittens. It was something Udo said. We can’t lose because we’ve got God’s mittens. I don’t know what he was on about. I thought it must be something German, like “mud in your eye”. You know, a toast when you drink.’
Otto thought about it, then he laughed out loud. A genuine laugh.
‘Of course, God’s mittens!’
And he laughed again. Jimmy smiled. He didn’t think it was that funny, but it had tickled Otto.
‘Yes, Jimmy. How can we lose when we have God’s mittens?’ He looked across at the waiter and shouted to him in German. Jimmy couldn’t follow him but he thought he caught God’s mittens in there somewhere. When Otto finished the waiter burst out laughing and the few other customers joined in. Otto turned back to Jimmy and raised his glass. ‘God’s mittens, Jimmy.’ And he finished the rest of the schnapps off at one go. Jimmy gave a shrug. He still didn’t see the joke.
‘God’s mittens to you, Otto.’ And he took a drink of his beer.
TWENTY
Udo had indeed been right about Lübeck. The whole town was full of history and interest, if you were interested in history. Jimmy wasn’t. Just now Jimmy was interested in what Charlie Bronski was up to and whether he was still the only one watching him.
After they left the Mexican bar, Long Otto had taken him to an apartment above an office in another part of the old town away from the tourist frontline, saw him settle in, then left.
There was food in the fridge and beer. Jimmy had showered, eaten, and then sat and thought for a while, or rather, let his mind run down. Then he had gone to bed and slept.
Otto phoned at ten a.m. and arranged to come round. They spent the rest of the morning looking at the immediate neighbourhood. It was quiet and gently anonymous, with plenty of narrow picturesque streets between terraces of old houses that were red brick or painted like their bigger, more splendid cousins that overlooked the river. Picture-postcard stuff. Beyond the roofs Jimmy saw several spires. The district didn’t seem short of churches.
There was a place where some of the streets opened onto a cobbled square with an ancient-looking wooden structure in the middle, a roof held up by six dark, timber posts. Lying on the stone floor with his back up against one of the posts was a grey-bearded, scruffy derelict. The empty bottle of whatever he had been drinking that morning or the night before still stood at his side. Jimmy liked that, it reassured him. The place had charm and old-world appeal. But if it needed or wanted tourists, they wouldn’t have left a derelict who passed out in their square to sleep it off where you couldn’t miss him. Around the square were shops, a restaurant and two bars that all looked as if they were laid out strictly for the locals. No special show or fuss to attract visitors, just street frontages that had been there for a couple of hundred years.
Long Otto told him to stay in the immediate neighbourhood, not to stray. He was safe so long as he stayed close to home. Then he took him into one of the bars in the square and told him to use it if he went out on his own. He would be safe in that bar. Jimmy looked at the barman and one of the waiters. He agreed with Otto. He’d be safe in that bar so long as Bronski didn’t come at him with a grenade launcher, and if the barman got in the way he might still be safe. The one who was acting the waiter wasn’t as big but instead he had a small bulge at his waist under his calf-length white apron. The white shirt and tight black waistcoat ruled out a shoulder holster. Otto noticed Jimmy looking.