Blue Night

by Simone Buchholz

  ‘Are you OK?’ I ask.

  He doesn’t answer, just puffs on his cigarette.

  After a while: ‘Why do you ask?’

  ‘No reason.’

  He stubs out his cigarette, turns over and pretends to be asleep.

  St Georg Hospital, sometime between yesterday and today.

  ‘So, let’s see what I’ve brought us … Newspapers, beer, cigarettes … We can really settle in for a while, Joe.’

  ‘What would I do without you, Faller?’

  ‘Oh, you’d have someone else.’

  ‘Who, then?’

  ‘Santa, maybe.’

  ‘You look like him.’

  ‘Really?’

  ‘No, Faller, you look miles better than Santa.’

  ‘Do you want to go out and smoke?’

  ‘Let’s have a beer and read the papers first. And turn the telly off, if you don’t mind. That guy gets on my nerves.’

  ‘If you had a gun, you could just shoot it off.’

  ‘I could. But I don’t have a gun.’

  ‘Would you if you did?’

  ‘Depends.’

  ‘On what?’

  ‘Various things.’

  ‘Money?’

  ‘Not necessarily.’

  ‘What then?’

  ‘If he deserved it. Don’t forget: that’s not actually my job any more.’

  ‘True. It’s more of a hobby for you.’

  ‘Yes, it’s more of a hobby for me, Faller.’

  ‘Must be fun.’

  ‘I wouldn’t call it that. It’s more … satisfying.’

  ‘There needs to be a point to it?’

  ‘Exactly. There needs to be a point to it. What about you?’

  ‘I can’t knock anyone off, Joe.’

  ‘Are you sure?’

  ‘I am now.’

  ‘What does that mean?’

  ‘Long story.’

  ‘Tell me.’

  ‘No.’

  ‘No?’

  ‘No.’

  ‘OK.’

  ‘Shall I open the beer?’

  ‘Yeah, sure.’

  Two men, two bottles of beer.

  No paper.

  Silence.

  ‘Faller?’

  ‘Yes?’

  ‘Can I ask you a girly question?’

  ‘What would that be?’

  ‘What are you thinking about?’

  ‘That is a damn girly question.’

  ‘I know. So?’

  ‘I’m thinking that there could be a simple solution to a complicated question – a solution that is right there between us, staring up at me from your hospital bedside table.’

  ‘And how does that go?’

  ‘The hitman in me is the hitman in you, Joe.’

  ‘Interesting approach.’

  DROSTE, PAUL

  Now you have to stay cool of course.

  Someone tried to hit me up in the street.

  For meth.

  Might be coincidence. But might mean the word’s out.

  In which case he knows. And we’re dead.

  ADELMANN, NICO

  The first thing to do is not panic. Just calmly shag your old lady. True thing. You don’t want to freak out. Just because somebody said something.

  Drob reckons the boss knows the stunt we’re pulling.

  I reckon that’s bollocks and I’m totally confident about that.

  NIEHUS, ROBERT

  The thing now is to make sure the delivery runs as fucking smooth as it did last time.

  Then we grab the stuff and vanish.

  Worst-case scenario, I mean.

  MALAJ, GJERGJ

  Unbelievable.

  First my cousins are all too stupid to take my place, or too weak or too dumb or too vain or too crazy.

  And then three little punks try to screw me over.

  It’s time.

  GOOD WITH THE OTHER PERSON’S BAD MOOD

  And as I’m on the way to the hospital to ask Austrian Ski-Teacher-Hitman Joe who the hell he thinks he is, I meet Faller outside the main entrance.

  ‘Oh no,’ I say.

  ‘Yes,’ he says.

  ‘Have you got a new best friend, Faller?’

  It’s just after ten. Faller must have got up really early to visit Joe. Maybe he hoped it would be early enough not to bump into me.

  He looks at me with a kind of puppy-dog stare and breathes deeply in and out. Then he takes my hand, leads me to a bench and we sit down.

  ‘We should talk, my girl.’

  ‘I think so too.’

  He looks up to the gloomy sky and says: ‘It’s like this…’

  ‘It’s like this: I’m the idiot in this story,’ I say.

  ‘No you’re not.’

  ‘Yes I am. I spend days talking to this stupid mystery-monger till I’m blue in the face; I sit at his bedside, I hold his hand, I bring him beer, I bring him cigarettes, I bring him food. I even properly like him, and I get the feeling he likes me too. And what does he do? Sends me off on a treasure hunt in the east so that you can just turn up and he can have all the time in the world to tell you everything important. That’s what it looks like, doesn’t it?’

  ‘I know it must look like that to you, Chas.’

  What else should it look like?

  ‘But I don’t know any more than you. I probably just know different things. And it would definitely be a good idea for us to pool our information instead of digging up the hatchet. We know quite a lot between us, I reckon.’

  ‘What do you know, then?’ I ask.

  ‘Well, I don’t know his real name, for example; but I didn’t ask, because it doesn’t matter,’ says Faller. ‘I know that he spent decades bumping people off.’

  ‘I know that too, now, you joker. Do you know what type of people they were?’

  ‘People who picked the wrong guys in the Kiez to mess with. Dealers, pimps, blackmailers, protection money collectors … No women, no kids. Or so he says.’

  ‘Old school, huh?’

  ‘Basically.’

  ‘And who was he working for?’ I ask.

  ‘Here’s where it gets exciting,’ says Faller.

  ‘Malaj, wasn’t it?’

  ‘How do you know that?’

  ‘It’s the impression I brought back from the east,’ I say.

  Faller nods and sits brooding. Then he says: ‘But.’

  ‘But what?’

  ‘Interestingly, the Albanian gradually pulled him out of the hitman work. Before Joe met him, he did jobs for all kinds of Kiez bosses, but wasn’t closely linked to any of them. The classic phantom. Made him very successful. I kept hearing about him too, but only as a rumour. Nobody who spoke about him had ever even met him.’

  He pulls his Roth-Händle out of his coat pocket, lights a cigarette for himself and holds the packet out to me.

  ‘Thanks,’ I say, ‘I’ve got my own.’

  ‘What are those Indian pipes?’ he asks when he sees my packet.

  ‘I brought them home from the east too,’ I say.

  ‘Must have been a hell of a time over there,’ he says.

  ‘Keep going,’ I say, ‘and then I’ll tell you something in return.’

  ‘OK.’ He takes a breath. ‘Gjergj Malaj obviously realised that a phantom like Joe could be very useful to him. And he hired him to be exactly that. Someone who could suddenly turn up any time, anywhere; someone potentially deadly – everyone knows that. He made him into his mysterious long arm.’

  We puff on our cigarettes.

  ‘When was that?’ I ask.

  ‘That was at exactly the same time that Malaj himself was getting out of all his red-light businesses and only investing in property. Around the millennium. But via Joe, he was always there in the background. And because everyone knew that, nobody did any deals that might damage the Albanian.’

  ‘Because everyone knew that except us,’ I say.

  ‘We hadn’t the least idea that there was any
one like Joe,’ says Faller.

  ‘Did he kill at all for the Albanian?’

  ‘Twice.’

  I drag on my cigarette. ‘Why did he tell you all this?’

  Faller shrugs. ‘Perhaps he wants to wipe the slate clean.’

  ‘You mean that he’ll turn supergrass?’ I ask. ‘So he can start a new life in the Austrian Alps?’

  Faller looks at me with unusually big eyes for an old bumblebee like him, and the eyes say: What else?

  ‘Please,’ I say. ‘That stuff only happens in mafia fairy tales. It’s a gangster myth. If a guy who’s spent half his life shooting people down spills the beans like that, there’s a better reason behind it than just looking for peace. And how do we know everything he told you is true?’

  ‘We don’t, of course. But there’ll be some truth in it. The story makes sense; it goes some way towards explaining why, in all those years when the Albanian was supposedly off the scene, nobody tried to become the new king.’

  ‘Or why nobody succeeded.’

  Faller shrugs. ‘So what do you know?’ he asks.

  ‘That Joe’s an unofficial grass for the drugs squad in Saxony. Or for one particular narcotics officer, to be precise. I don’t think his colleagues know about it. Because hiring an ex-hitman isn’t really the done thing.’

  ‘Oh,’ says Faller. ‘What’s the done thing and what’s done are often two very different kettles of fish … Joe said he’d practically sent you to Leipzig.’

  ‘He did. He wanted me to talk to a man named Wieczorkowski about crocodiles.’

  Faller looks confused, but the corners of his mouth twitch in amusement.

  ‘Yeah, I looked like that too,’ I say. ‘But then, when I got there and talked to Wieczorkowski, I realised that it’s anything but funny.’

  ‘Wieczorkowski is the narc you mentioned just now?’

  I nod.

  ‘Why did he take Joe on as a source? How did they meet?’

  ‘He didn’t want to tell me,’ I say. ‘According to him, the chance was there and he took it. About two weeks ago, Joe told him there was a big meth deal in the pipeline between Hamburg and the Czech Republic.’

  ‘Oh. That’s bad.’

  ‘Yep. But meth is nothing compared to krok. A cheap Russian drug. Made from codeine, formic acid and match heads. And it eats you alive.’

  ‘It eats you alive?’

  I tell him what Wieczorkowski told me. And what I saw in Leipzig.

  ‘I’m not following, Chas. What’s connected to what? I thought this was about meth?’

  ‘It is. Or the big deal is. How krokodil fits in, only Joe knows. But it must have something to do with it, or he wouldn’t have mentioned it.’

  ‘Are you on your way to ask him?’

  ‘I’m on my way to ask him,’ I say, standing up and stubbing my cigarette out on the bin.

  ‘OK,’ says Faller, staying seated.

  ‘OK,’ I say.

  ‘See you,’ he says.

  ‘See you.’

  Just before the door closes behind me, I turn round and see Faller still sitting there.

  I don’t exactly know why I didn’t tell him about Drob, Adlo and Ronny, but I had the feeling that he was keeping something back and that I should do the same.

  I’m starting to feel like this is all a game of chess, and we’re just pieces that someone else is pushing around the board.

  Faller has a particular look on his face.

  Like he’s found a secret door to a room stuffed full of splendid things that belong to him alone.

  Joe is sitting cheerfully in his bed.

  ‘There you are again,’ he says.

  ‘There you are still,’ I say.

  ‘Where would I go without you?’

  ‘You can stick your charm.’

  I pull up a chair and sit down.

  ‘Wieczorkowski thought you might be dead.’

  ‘He was worried about me?’

  ‘Not exactly,’ I say. ‘I think he was more afraid for his delicate plan.’

  He hints at a smile. ‘What else? How was East Germany?’

  ‘I learnt a lot,’ I say. ‘That you’re a hitman, for example, and that you work for one of the most dangerous men in Hamburg…’

  ‘Worked…’ he says.

  ‘Can I believe that?’

  ‘Nothing I tell you is a lie.’

  I look into his eyes.

  He looks into my eyes.

  I would like to believe him.

  ‘What else does Wieczorkowski say, apart from he’s glad I’m alive?’

  ‘He’s wondering what’s up with the drugs deal you told him about. And what krokodil has to do with it. And I’m wondering that too.’

  ‘So many questions,’ he says, sucking his teeth.

  ‘Shall we go for a smoke?’ I ask.

  ‘I’ve been for a smoke already today. Can you come back this afternoon?’

  ‘Ask Faller. I’m sure he’d like to come.’

  That sounds a bit hurt, but hey.

  ‘Are you jealous?’

  ‘Maybe,’ I say.

  ‘Nice of you to be so honest.’

  He moves his head to and fro, stretching his neck muscles as if he were a boxer. It doesn’t seem to hurt any more. He seems to have got a lot more mobile in general in the last few days. At least round the neck.

  ‘So,’ he says. ‘I also told you about those guys.’

  ‘Drob, Adlo and Ronny?’

  He nods. ‘They want to use the crystal deal for a deal of their own. For krok.’

  ‘You said that already. How exactly is that meant to work?’

  ‘I don’t know. I only know that they’ll seriously piss off the big guy. And that they shouldn’t do that.’

  ‘Does the big guy know?’ I ask.

  ‘The little shits took me out of action before I could tell him about their plan,’ he says. ‘But he wouldn’t be him if he didn’t know already.’

  Joe lifts his splinted arm, probably doing a few little exercises. He can already do so much. Soon he’ll be hopping from the bed to the wheelchair all by himself.

  ‘They found out that you wanted to tip him off?’ I ask.

  ‘They smelt it,’ he says. ‘Rats smell that stuff. But they only found out that I’d found something out. It was meant to be my elegant exit, you know. Employee of the month one last time and then get out of the whole mob.’

  ‘As easy as that?’

  ‘Well, we’d have seen about that. I’m good at disappearing, though. One of my key skills, you might say.’

  ‘Has Gjergj Malaj tried to contact you?’ I ask. ‘He must know you’re here.’

  ‘He hasn’t visited yet.’

  ‘There’s a policeman outside your door,’ I say.

  He looks at me. ‘You’ve only just spotted that?’

  Of course. If Gjergj Malaj wants to get in here, he won’t shy away from a single policeman on guard duty.

  He looks at me thoughtfully.

  ‘Do you think he wants you dead?’

  ‘I’ve got life insurance, remember?’

  ‘Does that nettle him?’

  ‘Oh yes,’ he says. ‘That nettles him.’

  But he seems unsettled all the same.

  ‘You have to stop it,’ he says, and for a brief moment he looks miles away.

  ‘I can’t station a whole century outside your door,’ I say.

  ‘Not my death,’ he says, irritated. ‘I mean the krok. And maybe you could shoot the meth deal down too. That shit doesn’t kill people as fast as krokodil, but it turns them into zombies.’

  Strange to hear this from someone like him. But I sense that he means it.

  There seems to have been a change in him over the last two days.

  He’s got a Faller at his side now, and a Faller can make you feel a peculiar need for justice. I’d forgotten that, but now it’s coming back to me.

  ‘It takes over from everything you love, right?’

 
; ‘Right,’ he says. ‘It takes over from everything you love.’

  ‘Help us,’ I say.

  ‘I’ve told you all I know.’

  ‘Testify against Malaj.’

  He looks at me like I’ve asked him to take out the US president.

  ‘If you’ll shoot me right afterwards, we can talk about it.’

  ‘I thought we might be able to talk about a state’s evidence thing,’ I say. ‘Faller thinks so too, by the way.’

  I’m trying everything now.

  ‘That’s bullshit,’ he says. ‘The very idea…’ He laughs somewhat manically and shakes his head.

  ‘So why are you telling me so much about Malaj?’ I ask.

  ‘I’m not telling you anything. I’m tossing you crumbs from which you can make your own loaf, if you’re clever enough. And you were the one who suddenly starting throwing that name around.’ He looks at me, and there’s something painful in his eyes. ‘You know what? I just want to go home.’

  ‘Where do you live? I’ll drive you.’

  ‘I don’t want to go to some flat,’ he says. ‘I want to go back to the mountains. I want to live in the Alps again and maybe be a normal human being for a few years. But before you leave a place where you’ve lived well for a long time, you tidy up a bit. That’s how it should be, isn’t it?’

  ‘That’s what this is about? You want to ease your conscience?’

  ‘I can’t do that,’ he says. ‘I don’t have to. I left my conscience in the cloakroom a lifetime ago. But now things have turned out like this – me here, and you too, both of us in this weird place, the others and all their shit… You have to take life as it comes. And if I can stop a few arseholes from poisoning a bunch of kids, then I will. I don’t have to shop anyone. I just have to get people like you to look in the right corners.’

  ‘And if Malaj finds you? Maybe not here, but in your sodding mountains? You can’t even climb.’

  ‘I used to be able to climb like a chamois,’ he says, ‘believe it or not.’

  ‘The main thing is whether you believe it.’

  When I come out of the front door, Faller’s gone.

  I was expecting him to wait for me.