Our Festering Hopes
Chapter Four
The Blue Angel wasn't far, and Johan decided he'd pay Austerlitz a visit. He'd sobered up a little by the time he got there, but not enough as he would have liked, he knew he'd need his wits about him.
The street the nightclub was situated on was one of Berlin's seedier, the sort of place where the cracked footpaths were tramped only by desperate, reprehensible types. The buildings were scrawled with grafitti, mostly run-down, and seemed to jostle with each other for attention, each promising attractions ever more lurid than the last. It was outside these that after dark, the pimps and the cutpurses came out to play. Johan could see that these were in no short supply tonight, prostitutes and drug-dealers offered their wares almost openly. From opium dens to back-alley abortionists, every form of vice however depraved, was catered for here, if one knew where to look. This haven of sin and iniquity was like a miniature, modern-day Sodom in the heart of the modern metropolis Hitler had created.
The Blue Angel itself was by far the most pristine structure on the street (no doubt because of its infamous owner). It was made of an ostentatious white stone, with elaborate carvings on the borders, the roof was dominated by a neon sign, showing the cobalt outline of a rather scantily-clad angel in a suggestive pose. Underneath this in flamboyant cursive script was the name of the establishment. On the walls were garish posters advertising cabaret nights and drinks promotions.
Johan ducked under the velvet rope and bypassed the short queue that had formed on the red carpet before the entrance. A pair of bouncers, both built like wardrobes barred the door.
"Are you on the gusetlist?" asked one of them.
"This is a private party," grunted the other, cracking his knuckles.
Johan showed his badge, "Here's my invitation."
"Now stand aside girls, I'm here to see your boss."
The two toughs exchanged glances, before one of them broke the silence.
"All right, follow me."
And so Johan entered the lion's den. The nightclub had a long bar that ran nearly its whole length, most of the people were clustered around the opposite side near a stage, where a raunchy burlesque show was in progress. At the centre of which was a woman dancing with only two large fans made of feathers to preserve her modesty. On a balcony above was a band playing lively swing music. The tinted lights on the ceiling cast everything below in a bluish hue.
The hulking bouncer led Johan to a door that opened out backstage. They walked past the dressing rooms and up a wooden staircase, which led to a door. Johan could here a snippet of converstion from inside, something about a missing prostitute. His surly guide knocked before entering.
"There's a detective who'd like a word," he said.
"Send him in," came a nasal voice from within.
A small, dark man wearing a bowler hat brushed past Johan as he left.
Johan entered; the office was well-appointed and plush. Classical paintings of landscapes and nudes adorned the walls, and a high bookcase brimmed with the works of Descartes, Nietzsche and their ilk. Velvet curtains were drawn across the window, hiding the nighttime sky. Faint echoes of music travelled through the walls from downstairs. The viridian wallpaper was emblazoned with a tasteful recurring motif, and the room was lit only by a lamp atop the fabulously carved ivory writing desk, behind which sat Austerlitz.
He was a man in his mid-forties, bald and corpulent he appeared almost moulded to his chair. Despite the slowly rotating fan hanging from the roof, a light sheen of sweat covered his face. Over his right eye he wore a monocle, and his stubby fingers were festooned with gaudy rings. Johan didn't let his less than imposing appearance fool him; he knew Austerlitz wielded immense power. Indeed his tailored waistcoat and shirt with its diamond cuff-links probably cost more than he would earn in a month.
Remaining seated, Austerlitz stared down his porcine nose at his visitor before dismissing the bouncer with a wave of his hand, "You can wait outside, Lutz."
His voice didn't really suit him; it was almost comically high-pitched for a man of his size and girth.
Lutz plodded out, closing the door behind him.
Johan sat down in a luxurious leather armchair across from Austerlitz.
"Might I offer you a cognac Detective...?"
"Müller,"Johan supplied. "You can keep the cognac, and it's Lieutenant actually."
Austerlitz inclined his head, "Forgive me. I trust you won't think any less of me if I have a glass?"
"Makes no difference to me," said Johan, he hadn't expected this outwardly genteel manner.
Austerlitz busied himself with the drinks cabinet.
"What was it you wanted to see me about Lieutenant? I'd be delighted to help in any way possible."
"You can start by dispensing with that routine. I know you're a criminal, I know you had dealings with Clara Timmermann, I know she owed you money and I know she turned up dead soon after."
Austerlitz chuckled, "I don't know where you get your information from Lieutenant. Criminal? No, no, no, I'm an entrepreneur. I buy and sell property, like this nightclub for example."
"If you're an honest businessman, then I'm Marlene Dietrich. You've been up in court more times than I care to remember."
"And found innocent everytime," Austerlitz pointed out with a smug grin.
"Only because you bribed the judges."
"Don't believe everything you read, Lieutenant Müller. As I'm sure you know success breeds envy. When the newspapers have nothing to say they print slander."
Johan took out a cigarette and struck a match.
"I would appreciate it if you didn't smoke here, Lieutenant."
Johan made no move to stop, he had learned when dealing with men like Austerlitz never to back down on anything. They would pounce on any percieved moment of weakness no matter how trivial, like a wolf to an exposed neck.
He exhaled a mouthful of smoke in Austerlitz's direction, who gave a soft all but feminine cough.
"You are indeed a well-refined gentleman, Lieutenant."
"I try. Now I'll ask you again, what do you know about Clara Timmermann?"
"I'm afraid I don't know what you're talking about, I've never heard that name before in my life."
Johan tipped some cigarette ash into a glass of water on the desk, Austerlitz made a face but said nothing. Johan could tell the man was hiding something, he could sense it. But it would take more radical measures to get him to talk, he decided to take a risk.
"So you won't tell me anything? Then maybe you'll tell my friend, Walther," said Johan, in one fluid motion drawing his PPK and aiming it at Austerlitz's head.
Austerlitz didn't panic as Johan expected he would. His expression only showing mild surprise, he took a long draft of cognac before speaking.
"What exactly to you intend to do with that, Lieutenant? Do you mean to kill me and then just walk out of here?" enquired Austerlitz, his voice as calm as if he was looking at a friend's holiday photos, rather than down the barrel of a gun.
"Don't let that concern you, in a few seconds you won't be worrying about anything."
Austerlitz's hand flitted down beneath the desk for a second.
"Keep those hands where I can see them," ordered Johan.
Austerlitz gave him a petulant glare but complied, showing his open palms.
"I'm going to count to five, and you better start talking before I get there. One."
"You wouldn't dare-"
"Two."
Austerlitz bit his lip, his fingers rapping a tattoo on the desk.
"Three," said Johan cocking the hammer.
"Four."
At this there was a noise from behind, a footfall on the carpet.
Johan made to turn but the Cointreau in his system dulled his reflexes.
Before he knew it there was a switchblade at his throat, and a spade-like hand that relinquished him of his weapon.
"About time, Lutz," scolded Austerlitz, emptying his glass of cognac.
Johan knew he'd made a very grave error in judgement, and it would probably be his last. Austerlitz must have had a panic button. Only now did it strike him that Ilsa could have set him up.
"You've got some nerve, coming in here drunk, waving a gun around and threatening me. You know I actually respect the audacity of it, in a way. But I can't let it go unpunished. As Cicero said, 'justice is the crowning glory of the virtues.'"
"You can't kill me. My superior sent me here; if I don't come back the law'll come here and cause problems, it'll be bad for business," said Johan with difficulty, the knife put pressure on his windpipe, making it hard to talk.
Austerlitz removed his monocle and started polishing it on his shirt.
"Don't let that concern you, Lieutenant, in a few hours you won't be worrying about anything. Oh, we'll kill you all right. Eventually. But first we're going to have a little chat about who's been telling tales about me," smiled Austerlitz, the jolly fat man act was well and truly out the window now.
The blade pressed down harder, breaking the skin and releasing a dribble of blood which meandered down his neck. Fear pulsed through his veins, penetrating his every sinew like some illegal narcotic. The terror invaded his mind, he couldn't think straight. Johan struggled briefly but Lutz was too strong. Adrenaline surged; flight or fight? He could do neither. The roaring of the blood in his ears was almost deafening. How was he going to get out of this?
"Who's been talking about my business?" asked Austerlitz. He plucked the still smoking cigarette from Johan's fingers and stubbed it out on his cheek. White-hot pain shot through him, he could smell the sickening aroma of burning flesh.
Johan remained silent, he didn't want to give him the satisfaction of crying out. Austerlitz repeated the question, but still Johan said nothing, unwilling to divulge Ilsa's description when he wasn't sure if she'd betrayed him or not.
"I think we'll start with his eyes," said Austerlitz.
The knife moved up his cheek before stopping at his right eye, the tip began to push under the socket, drawing blood.
"Wait, I'll talk!" pleaded Johan.
The blade lowered before it could do any permanent damage.
"Clara told me just before she was mrdered."
"Don't take me for a fool, Lieutenant."
"No, it's the truth."
Austerlitz looked over to Lutz, "Still, I think I'd rather make sure."
Johan had one last card to play, he hated doing it, but what choice did he have?
"Wait, I have more. This is something your other sources won't have heard."
"I'm listening."
"But if I tell you, you've got to let me go."
Austerlitz stared incredulously at him, and then gave a shrill laugh.
"You're not exactly in a position to make demands. I daresay you will tell me eventually, I'm a patient man."
"This information will only be useful for a short period of time. And if you don't accept the deal I swear I won't say a fucking thing."
Johan prayed that Austerlitz wouldn't call his bluff.
Austerlitz stroked his double chin thoughtfully.
"Very well, if I find what you tell me useful you can go. If not, well let's just say I'll be upset."
Johan felt blissful relief welling up inside him, before reminding himself he wasn't out of the woods yet. This could only be a temporary stay of execution, and if Austerlitz broke his word he was finished.
"That warehouse you own on Friedrich Street, it's been under police surveillance for several days. We believe you're stockpiling opium there. There'll be a raid soon."
Austerlitz was good all right, his expression remained neutral and only his sudden blink revealed his surprise.
"How can I verify this?"
"The building across the road, there'll be a blue Mercedes parked just outside."
Johan felt terrible giving away police secrets, he was ashamed but could see no other way out. Von dem Bach would skin him alive if he ever found about this. He had told but a select few about the operation, as it was suspected Austerlitz had a mole in the station.
"You'll understand if I check?"
So Johan waited with the switchblade still pointed at his jugular, as Austerlitz picked up the telephone and dialled. He hoped against hope that Wurzel and Waldorf hadn't gone home early as they were sometimes known to do.
"Hello, Kahlenberg is that you? This is Austerlitz, would you kindly check if there is a blue Mercedes parked outside?"
Johan's heart was thundering like a runaway locomotive, he could feel the cold sweat beading on his brow. Each hellish second of silence felt like a lifetime.
Finally after several such eternities, "I see. Would you excuse me for a moment Kahlenberg?"
Austerlitz covered the receiver and fixed Johan with a stare of pure malevolence. One could find more compassion in the eyes of the Devil himself.
"You're going to regret wasting my time. By the time I'm through with you, you'll be begging for death," he said softly.
Johan felt an awful sinking feeling in his chest. Dread threatened to overwhelm his senses. His whole body trembled, he felt physically ill. The breath in his lungs came in quick and shallow bursts. There was no hope for him now, no guardian angel would descend from the heavens to rescue him from a dismal and agonising fate. He could do nothing now but savour these last precious minutes before the ordeal began.
"Right this is what I want you to do, destroy all the merchandise. Yes, every bit of it. Because there are several detectives watching the building as we speak. Too risky to try and smuggle it out. No, not a trace Kahlenberg, there could be a raid at any moment. Goodbye."
Johan stared as Austerlitz hung up the phone, hardly daring to breathe a sigh of relief.
"Don't worry Lieutenant I am a man of my word. But for your transgressions, I couldn't let you get off that easily."
As his hurrying heartbeat returned to normal Johan was torn between hating Austerlitz and feeling a strange sort of gratitude towards him. The switchblade returned to its owner's pocket and Lutz stood a discrete distance away.
"I know you were motivated purely by self-preservation but nevertheless you did me a rather large favour there. As a bonus I will tell you what I know about Clara Timmermann. I'm not worried you'll say anything, you'll be in as much trouble as me if anyone down at the station learns about this little encounter," said Austerlitz, throwing him a tissue which Johan used to wipe the blood off his neck and face.
"She came to me looking for fake documents; , passport, birth cert, the works. All under the name 'Miriam von Trinker.' Which I provided."
Johan hadn't the slightest clue why she'd have any need for all that.
"In exchange for what?" he asked, still not believing his luck.
"Information, knowledge is power after all. She was my eyes and ears within the Berlin police department."
Johan was stunned, never in a million years would he have suspected Clara to be the spy in their midst. Austerlitz wasn't finished yet, "But information alone, valuable though it was, wasn't enough to cover her debt. She still owed me a rather substantial sum for those documents. And before that little brain of yours starts forming theories Lieutenant, let me tell you I'm as upset as anyone about her death, it means I won't get paid."
Johan couldn't help but wonder why Austerlitz was telling him all this, unless it served his motives in some way.
Could he trust him?
That was a question Johan didn't have the answer for.
"Yes, a tragedy," mused Austerlitz. "Not just from a business perspective either, she was a charming girl, with a beauty enough to make Aphrodite weep. Not that you'd know who that is," said Austerlitz clearly unable to resist throwing the barb Johan's way.
"Of course I know who it is," lied Johan,"Do you know why she wanted the documents?"
"No idea, and frankly it's none of my concern. As long as the money is there I do not care."
"Is there anything else I should know?"
"I can tell you no more, but there is one other thing, I'll need a new mole in the police. Are you interested in the job? You've made a fine start."
"No," said Johan, avoiding Austerlitz's eyes.
"Are you sure? I can pay handsomely."
"I said no."
"Let me be clear, I am not a man you say no to. I spared you tonight for a reason, you will do as I ask, or suffer the consequences."
Johan chided himself mentally for his naivete, he should have known there'd be a catch.
"I'll think about it."
"In that case there is nothing left to discuss, I pray you make the right decision. Lutz, here will show you out."
Johan got up to leave, his mind buzzing with unanswered questions and his conscience weighing heavy.
This was quite a fun chapter to write, I enjoyed messing around with the character of Austerlitz and putting poor Johan in and out of jeopardy.
The next chapter will probably be a rather long one but I'll try and have it up soon.
Special Thanks goes to swiftswallow for the kind review, really made my day.