Rath rummaged in his pockets and pressed fifty pfennigs into her outstretched palm. ‘In case you should dial the wrong number,’ he said. ‘But I can count on you, can’t I? It’s important.’
‘Of course, Inspector.’
She closed the door behind her. A rough exterior doesn’t necessarily hide a heart of gold, he thought, but she seemed reliable.
He didn’t have any photos to show the taxi driver, but it was the suitcases he was interested in. Ziehlke must have taken them somewhere; he certainly hadn’t put them on the pavement beside Vivian Franck when she alighted from the taxi on Hohenzollerndamm.
He arrived at Marienfelde early too, but any hopes he might have had of looking for the wire Krempin had mentioned were dashed. On his last visit the place had been guarded by police officers but now, as in Babelsberg, there was just a lone watchman, this time in civilian clothing. The man placed a finger to his lips and gestured towards the red light above the door. Rath nodded. He already knew the soundproofing in this glasshouse wasn’t perfect.
He showed his badge, offered an Overstolz, and this time it was the guard’s turn to nod. The pair smoked in silence and were still smoking when the light above the door went out.
‘You can go in now, but make sure you put your cigarette out first. Fire hazard.’
Rath took another drag before treading the butt out on the concrete floor and entering. It was eerie. The scenery in the fireplace room was still there, and everything had been patched up, even the spot on the parquet where the heavy spotlight had fallen to the floor.
What confused him most though, were the two people chatting by the fireplace. The man was wearing the same outfit as Victor Meisner three days before, the woman, a green evening dress that looked exactly like the one in which Betty Winter had died. Drawing nearer, he picked up a few scraps of conversation. The two actors were speaking in English.
‘Well, there’s a surprise! I didn’t know police officers were up and about so early.’ Heinrich Bellmann stepped out from behind the line of spotlights and shook him by the hand. ‘Do you have any news? Were my suspicions accurate? Did Oppenberg have a hand in it?’
‘Do you know Vivian Franck?’ Rath asked.
‘Oppenberg’s floozy? Why do you ask?’
‘So you do know her. Can you tell me where she’s staying?’
‘Has Oppenberg told you I’m pinching his third-rate actresses? No, thanks. I don’t need a slut like that Franck!’
‘Verrucht was relatively successful…’
‘Because she spends most of the time gambolling half-naked through the set. Betty didn’t need to do that, none of my actresses do. If Oppenberg’s girls are running away from him, he needn’t look for them here!’
Bellmann didn’t give the impression that he knew anything about Vivian Franck’s whereabouts. Time to change the subject. ‘Actually, I’m here for another reason,’ Rath said. ‘I need to speak to Herr Lüdenbach again, and take a closer look at the spotlight mounting.’
‘Go up to the lighting bridges? I’m afraid that’s not possible during filming.’
‘Correct, which is why you won’t have anything against taking a little break.’
‘For how long? You know that…’
‘…time is money,’ Rath completed the sentence. ‘That’s true for me too, by the way. Where’s your senior lighting technician?’
Bellmann waved Dressler over from talking to the sound engineer. ‘We’re taking a short break,’ he said. ‘The inspector would like to go back onto the lighting bridges with Lüdenbach.’
Dressler disappeared into the dark behind the spotlights. In the meantime, the two actors left the parquet and advanced curiously. ‘What’s going on?’ the man asked in English.
‘Short break,’ Bellmann answered in heavily accented English, gesturing towards Rath, ‘because of the Prussian police.’ When he saw Rath’s quizzical expression, he introduced the man. ‘Keith Wilkins,’ he said, in German now, ‘male lead in Thunder of Love.’
‘Nice to meet you,’ Wilkins said, shaking the inspector’s hand before disappearing behind the set. Rath suspected he would make use of the unexpected break to top up on cocaine.
He looked at the woman as if she were a vision from the hereafter. She was cast in an eerily similar mould to Betty Winter, only younger and prettier. He was searching for the correct English phrase when she greeted him in accent-free German.
‘Eva Kröger,’ she said.
Rath gazed at her, even more astonished than before.
She laughed. ‘I was raised bilingual,’ she explained. ‘My father is a Hamburg businessman, my mother a variety artist from Boston.’
‘Eva has all the makings of an international star,’ Bellmann said. ‘Not with that surname, however. We’re looking for something more sophisticated. Thunder of Love is her first major film.’
‘You shoot English films too?’
‘Thunder of Love is the English version of Liebesgewitter,’ Bellmann said. ‘If you want to maintain an international presence with sound films, you have to film several language versions. Or at least an English version for the American and British markets. That way you’re killing two birds with one stone. Two big birds, if I may say so.’
The actress turned to accompany her colleague backstage. From behind she was the spitting image of Betty Winter.
‘We’ve taken her on as Betty’s double.’ It was as if Bellmann had read Rath’s mind. ‘So that we can finish Liebesgewitter…’
‘…as you owe it to the great Betty Winter, after all,’ Rath said.
If Bellmann noticed his sarcasm, he ignored it. ‘We’ve caught up on the production schedule by working through the weekend. Editing starts this afternoon. The distributors are pestering us to bring out the film earlier than planned. The cinemas are positively scrambling to get their hands on it.’ He sighed. ‘If only Betty had been alive to see it!’
No doubt demand wouldn’t be quite so overwhelming were it not for the press sensation following Betty’s violent death, Rath mused, but kept his thoughts to himself.
‘So, thanks to Eva Kröger, you’re actually killing three birds with one stone,’ he said instead.
‘How do you mean?’
‘Well, if she passes for Betty Winter’s double, then you can shoot all original versions with her in future, and the English ones on top of that.’
‘Multilingualism is just one of many advantages Eva brings,’ Bellmann said, a little peeved.
‘And her fee will be lower than that of the great Winter. You really have done well out of this.’
‘I don’t know what you’re trying to insinuate, Inspector,’ Bellmann said, his face reddening after Rath’s remark. ‘But you should be aware that I have good lawyers.’
Rath shrugged his shoulders and looked innocent. ‘I’m not trying to insinuate anything. I’m only interested in the facts. If I’ve miscalculated the size of her fee, all you have to do is show me the contracts.’
‘Before you go snooping around my business, you should take a look at Oppenberg.’ Bellmann was now struggling to keep his anger in check. ‘That Jew is free to smuggle saboteurs and murderers into my studio, while I’m treated like a common criminal!’
‘Are you one of those people who view being Jewish as a crime?’
‘You’re putting me, the victim, in the pillory, and you’re leaving the real criminals be. That’s the issue here! You have superiors too, Herr Rath. There are limits to what I’m prepared to put up with.’
‘I always push my limits. Sometimes I even exceed them.’ At this point they were interrupted.
‘You wanted to speak to me, Inspector?’ The senior lighting technician, Lüdenbach, appeared beside them, glancing irritatedly at Bellmann, who was eyeing Rath like an attack dog ready to pounce. Then the producer seemed to flick a switch and bring himself back under control.
‘I’ll give you half an hour, Inspector,’ he said. ‘But if you should delay the shoot for any
longer, I’ll be lodging a complaint with your superiors. I really have no idea what you can still be looking for.’
‘Let me worry about that,’ Rath said, smiling pleasantly. ‘And thank you, I appreciate your co-operation. Now if you would excuse me, I’d like to speak to Herr Lüdenbach alone.’
Rath took the technician by the shoulder and moved away. ‘I see you’ve fixed the lighting system,’ he said. ‘Did you notice anything unusual?’
‘How do you mean?’
‘Was anything missing apart from the threaded bolt? Or was anything in the wrong place? A rod, a wire, I don’t know, anything suspicious…?’
‘A wire?’
‘Yes.’
‘There was something caught in the grating. A thin wire, scarcely visible. I only noticed it when my colleagues were checking the effects lever down below. The wire ought to have triggered the thunder machine, but somehow it must have come loose and got caught, before the tension catapulted it back up onto the lighting bridges. I can’t explain how it could have got there otherwise.’
‘Can you show me where this switch is? And the wire?’
‘You don’t think…’ Lüdenbach shook his head. ‘No, no! Even if the wire hit the flood at full force, it’d never be enough to wreck the suspension. Never!’
‘Just show me,’ Rath said through gritted teeth. He was on the verge of losing his patience with the man again. ‘Please!’
The technician led him to a wall where a big lever had been installed, one of those huge switches that were used on the railways to change tracks or set the signals.
‘Max, can you come here?’ Lüdenbach called backstage. A powerful man appeared wearing similar overalls to Lüdenbach. He seemed more like a butcher.
‘Morning,’ he said, and Rath thought he discerned the Duisburg dialect that his mother used to revert to when she was angry or drunk – neither of which happened very often.
‘The inspector’s interested in the wire you found in the grating yesterday. Show him everything. I need to get back to work.’
Max held out a hand once the technician had disappeared. ‘Krieg,’ he said.
‘Pardon me?’
‘That’s my name. Max Krieg.’
‘Very well, Herr Krieg. Perhaps you can explain this lever to me. Is this the wire?’
‘Strictly speaking it’s a thin wire rope.’ Krieg pointed towards a cable that was connected to the lever and passed through various eyelets and coils, ultimately disappearing somewhere in the studio roof. Rath looked up but could only see the familiar labyrinth of steel catwalks and thick lengths of material.
‘That’s how the thunder machine is triggered,’ Krieg said. ‘It gets a lot of use in Liebesgewitter. It’s a normal thunder run in which iron balls are rolled up and down wooden slats: a trick from the theatre. When the film’s finished you won’t be able to distinguish it from real thunder.’
‘I thought things like that were recorded later.’
‘Anything that needs to be added later costs time and money. Bellmann is an old theatre hand; he insists we make direct recordings wherever we can. Thunder’s an easy one, but gunshots are more difficult. They overload the microphones.’
‘Can you show me this thunder machine?’
The stage technician led Rath behind the scenes to a large, wooden box, which rose ten metres and almost reached the lighting bridges. Two microphones had been mounted in front of the box.
‘Impressive, isn’t it?’ Krieg said. ‘It’s been going almost fifty years. From Bellmann’s old theatre. It was a bit of a grind, heaving it out this way.’
Rath gave an appreciative nod. ‘How does it work?’
Krieg gestured towards the top of the wooden box. ‘The iron balls are inside. When you release them, it thunders.’
‘And you release with the switch back there…’
‘Correct.’
‘Why isn’t it next to the machine?’
‘When I trigger the thunder I need to have the scene in view. The timing is essential, especially with a script like this. We’re talking split seconds.’
‘Why?’
‘The thunder plays a decisive role. The male lead – how can I put this? It sounds a little crazy…’
‘You wouldn’t believe the kind of crazy things policemen sometimes hear.’
‘Well, it isn’t my idea anyway. So: Count Thorwald is actually Thor, the God of Thunder, who has fallen in love with a woman and is living amongst mortals in present-day Berlin. Naturally, this is a source of confusion. At any rate, whenever the Count – that is, Thor – shows certain feelings for this woman, the first time he speaks to her, for example, when she looks him in the eye, when she slaps him and so on, it thunders. Gets a laugh every time. And in the last scene, when they finally kiss, everyone’s waiting for the thunder but it never comes. Because he’s become mortal for her sake.’
‘It does sound a little crazy.’
‘It’s a romantic comedy, with a hint of the supernatural. Bellmann believes in it, and says it’s part of the new wave. That’s why he wants to get Liebesgewitter in cinemas as quickly as possible. Before Montana brings out its Zeus story…’
‘Vom Blitz getroffen is about Zeus?’
‘That’s what people are saying. They’re both written by the same author. It’s two different stories, but with the same basic idea. It’s first come first served.’
‘Or every man for himself, and the Devil take the hindmost.’
Krieg nodded. ‘After the thing with Betty, I thought that’s it, you can look for a new job. But Dressler just filmed the missing scenes with Eva. I still haven’t seen the rushes, but it was uncanny how authentic she was. She could even imitate Betty’s voice. It can’t have been easy for poor Victor, but he’s an actor and gets the job done no matter how he’s feeling.’
‘Meisner’s back filming?’
‘Yesterday.’
‘Where is he today?’
‘Everything’s in the can, the boss has given him the day off. Doesn’t he have to go to the station?’
Rath nodded. Neither Bellmann nor Oppenberg had told him the whole truth about their rivalry. ‘Now show me where you found this wire.’
They had to go back up. Max Krieg was considerably heavier than the senior lighting technician, and the lighting bridges wobbled more. The stage technician squatted on the grating and pointed. ‘This is roughly where the wire was stuck. Hardly visible – unless you scramble along here on all fours.’
‘How did you find it?’
‘It was quite simple. During filming with Victor and Eva yesterday, the effects lever jammed and the thunder wasn’t triggered. That’s when we realised it hadn’t worked for Betty’s final scene either. I took a look at the thunder machine and saw the wire was missing, so I traced it back from the lever to here.’
They were standing close to where the spotlight had fallen.
‘How did the wire get here?’
‘It will have jammed, then come loose. A taut wire like that goes a long way when it snaps. There was still a little cotter pin attached. That’s where it must’ve snagged.’
‘So the wire doesn’t normally run through this grating?’
‘No, it goes through a bridge a few metres away. You can’t see it because of the cloths. That’s where the thunder machine is.’
Rath inspected the metal grate on which they were crouched. Suddenly he hesitated. ‘Then why are there eyelets on this bridge too?’ He pointed to where the eyelets were attached. The effects wire ran up the wall through an almost identical set.
The stage technician gazed in astonishment. ‘Shit,’ he said. ‘I didn’t see that before!’
They continued looking and found a snatch block on one of the corners. The row of eyelets ran to the point where a hole had been made in the battery of spotlights.
‘I’m not one for technology,’ Rath said, ‘but is it possible that…’
‘I know what you’re thinking,’ Krieg said. ‘Yes.
The spotlight fell when it ought to have thundered.’
‘Who was operating the lever?’
The technician looked crestfallen. ‘I’m afraid that was me.’
18
The dial tone was already buzzing by the time Rath realised he’d left Gräf in the lurch. Too late.
‘Nice of you to get in touch,’ the detective said. ‘Weren’t you going to help us with some paperwork today?’
‘Sorry, change of plan, you have to…’
‘Have you gone mad?’ Gräf hissed into the receiver. ‘All hell’s breaking loose here.’
Rath could picture the atmosphere at Alex. ‘I had an idea this morning,’ he said, ‘and drove out to Marienfelde, to the studio.’
‘You didn’t have time to come by and share your ideas first? Böhm is beside himself. There’s a briefing scheduled on the Winter case, and you’re nowhere to be found. The case isn’t yours anymore, Böhm’s taken it over. We’re part of his team now. “Fall in” is the command – only it doesn’t seem to have reached you yet.’
‘What I don’t know won’t hurt me.’
‘You buttered your bread, now lie in it. Let’s leave the proverbs.’
‘We’ve come this far, and Böhm’s just going to take every-thing away. Do you think that’s right?’
‘It doesn’t matter whether I think it’s right. I’m a detective, and Böhm’s detective chief inspector. You’re a detective inspector, without the chief.’
‘Thank you, I’m familiar with the hierarchies.’
‘Then start acting like it.’
‘A detective issuing orders to a detective inspector? What were you saying about hierarchies?’
‘This is serious, Gereon. You don’t have many friends in the Castle as it is, and beating up a colleague doesn’t exactly help your cause. It’s high time you put in an appearance.’
‘Is that story doing the rounds already?’
‘What do you think?’
‘Beating up is a bit strong. I clouted him a couple of times, that was all. He was asking for it.’
‘I don’t like that arsehole any more than you do, but hitting him is going too far. Especially in front of witnesses! You should hear what people are saying.’
The Silent Death Page 14