They do one job which is really neat. There’s a tailor’s on Elsasser Strasse, and the union has a couple of tailors who are good for fencing goods like that. So one morning finds the three of them standing outside, it’s 3 a.m., and there’s the security guard watching the premises. The wheelwright asks what business it is, and they all get talking, and the subject turns to break-ins, and how this is a dangerous time, because a lot of customers have started packing, and if a thief is caught he’ll as likely as not be blown away. Well, the three of them protest, we’d never do anything like that; but was there anything worth taking in the outfitter’s anyway? Lord, it’s chock-full of gear, gents’ suitings, overcoats, whatever you wanted. Well, in that case it must be worth going up and taking a look and maybe acquiring a new wardrobe. ‘You must be mad, you wouldn’t make trouble for our friend here.’ ‘Trouble, who said anything about trouble. Our neighbour here is only human, he’s probably not earning a whole hell of a lot himself, what does the security industry pay?’ ‘It’s barely worth asking. If you’re past sixty and you’re retired and can’t really work any more, then they’ve got you over a barrel.’ ‘That’s just what I’m saying, here’s this old man standing around all night, getting rheumatism, I expect you were in the war and all?’ ‘Territorials, in Poland, but no digging, we never had to go in no trenches.’ ‘Tell me about it! Except with us it was, get in the trenches, unless you’re carrying your head in your hands, that’s why you’re standing here now, brother, making sure that no one steals anything from the fine gentleman up there. What do you say, brother, shall we do something? You got a cubbyhole?’ ‘Oh no, that’s too scary for me, the gentleman sleeps next door, and if he hears a sound he’s got ever such a light sleep.’ ‘Well then we’ll tiptoe. Come on, give us a coffee and talk to us, I bet you’ve got a water boiler. No need to look after him, fat pig like that.’
So there’s the four of them at the watchman’s, in his office, drinking coffee, the wheelwright is the cutest of them, he’s quietly having a chat with the watchman, and in the meantime the other two sneak off and fill their bags. The watchman keeps wanting to get up, he has to do his rounds, he wants no part of this, and finally the wheelwright says: ‘Oh, why don’t we just leave the two of them to it, if you don’t notice anything, then no one can break in.’ ‘What do you mean: not notice.’ ‘You know what we can do: I’ll tie you up, there’s been a break-in, you’re an old man, you can’t be expected to put up much of a fight, if I throw a blanket over your head then before you know it you’ve been gagged and your ankles tied.’ ‘Oh.’ ‘So, don’t fuss. You’ll not risk your skull for a fat pig of a boss, will you? Finish your coffee, and then we’ll work something out, where do you live, write it down, we’ll do accounts fair and square, shake on it.’ ‘What’s in it for me then?’ ‘Depends what we find. Hundred marks for sure.’ ‘Two hundred.’ ‘Orright.’ They smoke, finish their coffee, and it’s as good as done, get hold of a vehicle, the plumber telephones for one and they’re in luck, half an hour later the car is at the door.
Next comes the fun part: the old guard sits down in his comfy chair, the wheelwright takes some copper wire and ties his legs together, but not too tight. The man has varicose veins, and he feels it. He wraps up his arms with phone wire, and now they’re starting to rib him a bit, the old fellow, how much is it exactly he wants, was it 300 or 350. And then they pick up a couple of pairs of boys’ trousers and a summer duster. With the trouser legs they tie the man to his chair, and him saying, I’ve had just about enough of this. But they go on ribbing him, he kicks up a fuss and they slap him around a bit, and before he can shout, there he is with the coat over his head and a towel tied round his chest just in case. The wheelwright writes out a couple of signs: ‘Caution! Freshly trussed fowl!’ And hangs those over the guard, front and back. Then they push of. They haven’t had such easy pickings in a long time.
The guard meanwhile, he’s getting anxious, and he’s boiling with rage in his trussage. How am I going to get out of here, and then they’ve gone and left the doors open so people can walk in off the streets and help themselves. He’s not able to free his hands, but he can part the wire around his legs, if only he was able to see. Then the old man lurches forward and, taking tiny tippling steps, he shuffles blindly through the office, the chair tethered to his back, like a snail, his hands tied to his body, he can’t manage to free them nor can he get the coat off his head. By butting his head forward he manages to grope his way out to the corridor door, which of course he can’t open, and then he gets in a towering rage, he turns round and rams his chair against the door, front and sideways. He doesn’t succeed in dislodging the chair but the door splinters, and you can hear it all over the building. The blindfolded guard keeps backing up and charging, crashing and banging against the door, someone must surely come, I need to see, those bastards are going to catch it, get that coat of my head, he cries for help, but the coat does its stuff After about two minutes of this the proprietor is awake, and people are on their way down from the second floor. The old man is just then slumping back into his chair, unconscious. All that noise, and the break-i n, and they tethered the old man, what are they doing hiring an old geezer like that for anyway, just to save a bit of money. False economy, I say.
The little gang is jubilant.
Christ what were we doing with Pums and Reinhold and that whole bother anyway.
Then things come to a head, but not in the way they had in mind.
Things come to a head, plumber Karl gets caught and spills some beans
Reinhold walks up to the plumber in the bar on Prenzlauer and asks to have a word, they’ve been looking for a locksmith, and not found anyone, they want to talk to Karl. They go into the back room, Reinhold says: ‘Why aren’t you in? Wotcher been doing with yourself anyway? We’ve been hearing things.’ ‘I’m not about to let myself be bossed about by you.’ ‘It seems you’ve found something else.’ ‘It’s none of your beeswax what I’m doing.’ ‘I can see you’re flush, but working and earning for us one day, and then sayonara the next, that’s not on.’ ‘That’s not on, that’s not on! First it’s: you useless git, then it’s: oh, Karl, come back, we need you.’ ‘We do and all, we don’t have anyone, or else give us back the money we give you. We don’t use casual labour.’ ‘I dunno where you’re going to get it from, Reinhold, because I ain’t got it any more.’ ‘Then you’d better get back in with us.’ ‘I’m not doing that neither, as I’ve already explained.’ ‘Now, Karl, you know we’ll break every bone in your body, and let you starve to death, if that’s what you want.’ ‘Oh sure. You’re not thinking straight. You’re mistaking me for a little pig that will do whatever you tell it.’ ‘I see. Now, push off. I don’t care if you’re a pig or not. Think it over. We’ll talk.’ ‘Sure we will.’ There is a reaper.
Reinhold thinks things over with the others. Without a locksmith they’re stymied, and conditions are favourable just now, Reinhold has orders from a couple of fences he’s managed to prise away from Pums. They’re all of one mind, the fear of God needs to be put into plumber Karl, he’s a two-timer, and he stands to be thrown out of the gang.
The plumber can sense certain moves are afoot. He looks up Franz, who just then is spending a lot of time up in his room, he wants Franz to support him or clue him into their thinking. Franz says: ‘First you duped us with the Stralauer Strasse job, and then you leave us in the lurch, that’s about enough.’ ‘It’s coz I want nothing to do with Reinhold. The man’s an evil bastard, as you know well enough.’ ‘He’s all right.’ ‘You’re a fool, you don’t understand anything, you’ve got no eyes.’ ‘Don’t fill my head with your talk, Karl, I’ve got enough on my plate, we’ve got work to do, and you leave us in the lurch. I’d look out if I was you, you’re not in a good way.’ ‘Because of Reinhold? Don’t make me laugh. See me laugh. That’s how wide I can open my mouth. This is my belly wobbling. I’m as strong as he is. He takes me for his little porker, well, I’m not saying anything.
Let him come.’ ‘Push off, but I tell you, watch yourself.’
And then, as luck would have it, two days later the plumber and his two accomplices do a job on Friedenstrasse that goes wrong. The wheelwright is nabbed too, only the third man, who was posted as lookout, managed to get away. In short order the detectives establish that Karl was also involved in the Elsasser Strasse job, it’s his fingerprints all over the coffee cups.
•
How come I got caught, thinks Karl, how did the cops get wind of this job. It must have been cunt Reinhold who tipped them off. The malice! Because I wouldn’t go back to them. The bastard wants to see me off, a wretch catching me in his trap. Was there ever such a louse. He sends a secret message to the wheelwright, Reinhold’s to blame, he’s a nark, I tell you, he’s part of it. The wheelwright gives him a nod in the corridor. Karl asks to see the magistrate, and in the police station he says: ‘Reinhold was in on the job, but he baled beforehand.’
They bring in Reinhold that afternoon. He denies everything, he’s got an alibi. He is pale with fury when he sees the other two at the magistrate’s and confronts them both, and the two cunts claiming he was in on the suit job. The magistrate listens to them all, looks at the faces, something’s amiss here, the two sides are that furious with each other. Sure enough, two days later Reinhold’s alibi is confirmed, he’s a ponce, but he’s got nothing to do with this.
It’s the beginning of October.
Reinhold is freed, the police know he’s up to something, they will keep an eye on him. Meanwhile the two others, the wheelwright and Karl, are laid into by the magistrate, they’re to stop lying, Reinhold has had his alibi confirmed. Thereupon the two of them are mum.
Karl sits in his cell, boiling with rage. His brother-in-law, the brother of his ex-wife, who he’s kept up with, comes by to visit him in prison. He hooks him up with a lawyer, he insists on a lawyer, an expert in criminal law. He sounds him out for a bit, and then he asks him what the situation is if you’ve helped bury a dead person. ‘Why, how come?’ ‘What if you run into someone, and they happen to be dead, and you help bury them?’ ‘Maybe someone you want to hide, shot by the police, something like that?’ ‘Well, anyway, if you haven’t killed them yourself, and you don’t want the body to be found. Is that serious?’ ‘Well, were you acquainted with the dead party, do you stand to gain any advantage from burying them?’ ‘Not exactly an advantage, but it’s out of friendship, you’re helping out, the dead person’s lying there, sure you knew them, you don’t want them to be found.’ ‘Found by the police? Actually that’s just suppressing information. But how did he meet his death?’ ‘I dunno. Wasn’t there. It’s to do with someone else. Nothing to do wif me. Didn’t even know about it, notta thing. Corpse lying there. And then it’s, all right, lend a hand, let’s get him buried.’ ‘Who says so?’ ‘To bury him? Oh, never mind, someone or other. I just want to know what my situation is. Have I broken the law if I helped bury them?’ ‘You know, the way you’re telling me, not really, not in a substantial way. If you weren’t involved in the death, had no interest in it. Just remains the question why you helped?’ ‘I lent a hand, didn’t I, friendship, I suppose, but that doesn’t matter, any road, I wasn’t involved, had no interest in him either way.’ ‘An honour killing, something like that?’ ‘Mebbe.’ ‘Man, stay out of it. I still don’t know what you were doing.’ ‘That’s all right, Your Honour, I’ve found out as much as I needed to know.’ ‘Sure you don’t want to tell me about it in greater detail?’ ‘I’ll sleep on it.’
And then Karl the plumber lies in his cot all night, trying vainly to sleep, and not able to, and he’s furious with himself for being the biggest fool in the world, I tried to squeal on Reinhold, he couldn’t help noticing, and now he’s not around any more, he will have done one. I’m a fool. A hard bastard like that, he won’t lift a finger for me, but I swear I’m going to get him.
For Karl the night is never-ending, when is the first bell going to ring, it’s all the same to me, there’s no punishment for just assisting in a burial, and even if I get a month or two this guy’s going to get life, he’s not going to walk out, that is, if they don’t go all the way and knock his block off. When is the magistrate coming, how late is it going to get, and in the meantime Reinhold will have hopped on a train and gone. There’s never been another bastard like that, I can’t believe Biberkopf is his friend, what’s he going to live off, with one arm, shameful the way they treat invalids these days.
Eventually the panopticon comes to life, Karl pokes out his tin flag right away, by eleven he’s with the magistrate. Who pulls a face. ‘You really don’t like him, do you. Happy to have him charged a second time. Well I hope for your sake you haven’t misjudged it.’ But this time Karl’s information is so detailed that by noon he’s in a car, the magistrate in the front seat, and a couple of strongly built detectives in the back, flanking Karl, who has his hands cuffed. Their destination is Freienwalde.
•
There they are, driving the old roads. It feels good to be driving again. Damn, if only he could get out of the car. The bastards have braceleted him, though, so nothing doing. They’ve got pistols as well. Nothing doing, nothing doing. Driving, driving, shooting down the avenue. I’ll give you 180 days, Mitzi, on my lap, sweet child, he’s a bastard, Reinhold, walks over corpses, you wait, sunshine. Think about Mitzi again, biting her in the tongue, she knew how to kiss all right, which way shall we go, left or right, I don’t mind, my darling, sweet child.
They go over the hill and enter the woods.
It’s pretty in Freienwalde, it’s a bathing spa, a little holiday spot. The little spa gardens are freshly sprinkled with yellow gravel, there at the back is the inn with the terrace, that’s where the three of us sat together. In Switzerland and in Tyrol, that’s where a man feels swoll, in Tyrol there’s warm milk straight from the odder, and in Switzerland there’s a little dodder of a little modder, yodelay-ihay. Then he bunked off with her, I got a couple of bills and minded my own business, I sold him that poor girl, and I’m doing time for him right now.
Here are the woods, autumnal now, it’s a sunny day, nothing moving in the tree tops. ‘It’s along here somewhere, he had a torch with him, it won’t be easy to find, but I’ll recognize the spot if I see it, it was in the open, and there was a crooked pine and a dell.’ ‘There’s no shortage of dells here.’ ‘Sorry, Inspector. We’ve gone too far. It was only twenty or twenty-five minutes from the inn. Not this far.’ ‘But you told us you were running.’ ‘Yes, but only in the woods, not on the road, that would have attracted notice.’
And then there’s the open spot, the crooked pine there, and everything as it was on that day. I am yours, her heart to pulp, her eyes to pulp, her mouth to pulp, let’s go a bit further, don’t press me so hard. ‘There’s the black pine, you’re right.’
Men came on horseback over the land, they were mounted on little brown horses, they came from far away. They kept asking where the highway was, then they got to the water, the great lake, where they dismounted. They made the horses fast to an oak tree, they said prayers by the water, they threw themselves to the ground, then they took a boat and sailed over the water. They sang to the lake, they spoke to the lake. They weren’t looking for treasure in the lake, they wanted to pay their respects to the great lake, a chieftain of theirs lay at the bottom. Hence, hence these men.
The police had shovels and picks with them, plumber Karl went around and showed them the place. They dug their shovels into the ground, and from the first moment the ground was loose, then they dug deeper, threw the sandy soil up in the air, the ground had been churned up, there were pine cones under the ground, the plumber Karl stands there and watches and watches and waits. It was here, this is the place, this is where they buried the girl. ‘But how deep was it?’ ‘Not more than a foot.’ ‘We’re past that already.’ ‘But this is the place all right, keep digging.’ ‘Keep digging, keep digging, but there’s nothing there.’ The ground is churned
up, they shovel up green grass from the depths, somebody must have been digging here as recently as this morning or last night. She must turn up soon, he’s already holding his sleeve in front of his nose, she must have been gone, how many months is it now, and there’s been rain too. The one digging down below calls up: ‘Do you remember what she was wearing?’ ‘A dark skirt, pink blouse.’ ‘Silk?’ ‘Could have been, but it was pale pink anyway.’ ‘Something like this?’ And one of the men has a lacy border in his hand, it’s soiled and mucky-looking, but it’s pink all right. He shows it to the magistrate: ‘Could be a bit off the sleeve.’ They go on digging. It’s pretty clear: something’s happened here. Dug up maybe yesterday or this morning. Karl stands by; so he was right, Reinhold sensed something was up, dug her up, maybe threw her in the river or something, what a piece of work. Off to the side, the magistrate is in conversation with the detective, it’s a lengthy conversation, the detective takes notes. Then three of them walk back to the car; one man is left to guard the spot.
As they walk, the magistrate asks Karl: ‘So when you came along, I suppose the girl was already dead?’ ‘Yes.’ ‘Can you prove it?’ ‘Why?’ ‘Well, if Reinhold says you killed her, or helped kill her?’ ‘I helped carry her. What would I have killed her for?’ ‘For the same reason he killed her or is said to have killed her.’ ‘But I wasn’t even with her that evening.’ ‘But you were in the afternoon.’ ‘But not after. She was still alive then.’ ‘It’s not an easy case to make.’
In the car, the magistrate asks Karl: ‘Where were you then in the evening and the night after the business with Reinhold?’ Fuck, I’ll tell him. ‘I left. He gave me his papers, I scarpered, so that, if anything came to light, I’d be able to prove my alibi.’ ‘Curious. And what possessed you to do it, were you so tight with him?’ ‘Ach. I’m just a poor bugger, and he paid me for it.’ ‘And now he’s not your friend any more, or he’s run out of money?’ ‘My friend? No, Your Honour, he’s never my friend. You know what I’m in for, the break-in with the security guard and that. He shopped me.’