Rosa

Braun held his own. “You’d be wise to let me take care of this.”

“I’m tied to a chair in an excavation pit. I think you’ve done all you can.”

Braun insisted: “He hasn’t an inkling of what’s going on here.”

“He has her,” Manstein cut in. “And I don’t think he’ll be giving her back.” It was a cold, unflappable stare that now peered at Hoffner. “You won’t be giving her back to us, will you, Herr Oberkommissar?”

Evidently the marriage between the Thulians and the Polpo had been one of convenience. Hoffner knew he needed to take full advantage of that. “Did you enjoy the work, Herr Doktor?” he asked.

For the first time, uncertainty flashed through Manstein’s eyes. “Excuse me?”

Hoffner gave Braun no time to interrupt: “It’s a shame you didn’t study your patient more closely. I imagine you were a bit too clever there, as well.” Hoffner watched as the uncertainty grew. “For the longest time, I couldn’t understand why Wouters’s knife work was so smooth while the second carver’s was so jagged and angled. I assumed it was someone like Tamshik, or even Braun here, but then the accuracy of the lines on the back was too good-too close to the original-not to be someone who actually had some skill with a knife. But to make it look too good, that would have been a problem, wouldn’t it? So you had to alter your hand. After all, Wouters was mad, and didn’t madness imply a kind of frenzy with the cutting? You must have watched him, seen him slice up the backs of those women, so you’d know how to re-create the pattern. But you didn’t watch him closely enough, did you? This was an art for him. Battered and bloody hands hadn’t stopped him as a boy from creating the most delicate lace patterns. His work was pristine.” Hoffner paused. “Unlike yours.”

Manstein stared coldly ahead.

“The Tiergarten whore,” said Hoffner. “You got impatient. The Polpo wanted you to wait, but that was unacceptable. Wouters wasn’t killing fast enough, and he was staying in the wrong part of town. You needed him in the Westend so you could get the kind of hysteria you wanted. Such a perfect spot, the U-Bahn station at the zoo. The threat of east coming west. Tell me, Herr Doktor, was it only the carving, or did you do the killing, as well?”

Braun had heard enough: “Don’t let him do this.”

Manstein ignored Braun: “More efficient that way, wouldn’t you say, Herr Oberkommissar?”

With sudden venom, Hoffner cracked the back of his hand across Manstein’s face. Manstein showed almost no reaction, while Braun flinched. Manstein’s lip began to bleed and he licked at it with his tongue. “Does that make you feel better, Herr Oberkommissar?”

Hoffner was doing all he could to maintain his self-control: how easy it would be to beat this man to death, he thought. “Why Luxemburg?” he said.

Manstein spat a wad of blood. “You seem to be doing so well on your own. Why don’t you tell me?”

Braun tried again. “This is exactly what he wants. How is it that you’re incapable of seeing that?”

Manstein spat again. “Never the larger picture with you, Braun, is it?” Manstein wiped his chin on his shoulder and then looked up at Hoffner. “Go on, Detective. See if you can figure this out before Herr Braun here manages it.”

It was clear that Manstein wanted to be pressed: that Hoffner had yet to figure out why was no reason to disappoint him. “She was a means to an end,” he said.

Manstein offered another snort of contempt. “If we’re going to state the obvious, I’d prefer the bullet.”

Hoffner was inclined to grant the request, but that wasn’t why he was here; instead, he tried to imagine where Jogiches might have taken things now. “All right,” he said. “Berlin on edge. . Rosa’s body discovered. . not much of a stretch to stir up fear of a Red reprisal for her killing. The Reds ready to strike. .” Hoffner was building momentum. “Enter the Freikorps. Naturally the government gives them free rein to eliminate the problem-we can thank your former General Nepp in Defense for that-and you kill two birds with one stone. The socialists are purged, and your military wing gets a foothold in the political door, and all in the name of reestablishing order.” Hoffner knew there were too many holes in the theory to count. His only hope was that Manstein had found it equally unimpressive.

“A dead Luxemburg?” said Manstein. “Triggering socialist reprisals with the design etched onto her back? And that makes sense to you, Herr Oberkommissar?” Ego was always so transparent with men like this. “Wouldn’t that, in fact, have done just the opposite-allow the Reds to stop worrying about who had killed their beloved Rosa because, now, she would have been nothing more than another unfortunate victim of some madman?” Manstein seemed almost disappointed by Hoffner’s attempt. “Nothing gained there. No one to blame, Herr Oberkommissar. No reason to bring in the Korps.”

It was an odd choice-the word “blame”-thought Hoffner. He tried to see beyond it. If not Wouters, then who? Even Manstein had to admit that the Jews were too vague a target, lace designs notwithstanding. No. Manstein had made it clear that someone else was meant to take responsibility for her death. That was the key. That was why the bodies were piling up all over again. Someone who could. .

Hoffner stopped. Of course. He looked across at Pimm, and the words came back to him. This was a crime like any other, no matter how intricate its pla

Hoffner suddenly understood where he had gone wrong. He had been focusing on what these men had been trying to keep hidden, the layers to be peeled away: that was what made for conspiracy. But what if it was the other way round? What if the key was in what they wanted revealed?

Hoffner looked again at Manstein. “You wanted the Kripo to dig deep, didn’t you, Herr Doktor?”

Mantein’s expression seemed to soften. “Dig, Herr Oberkommissar?” He sounded almost encouraging. “And what was it that you were meant to find?”

Hoffner began to see it. “It’s really quite brilliant, isn’t it? Because it’s exactly what it appears to be. Wouters unleashed on the city. The murders as a ruse to create hysteria. All to cover up Luxemburg’s killing. You wanted it all to come out because it was all meant to lead back to one place. Nepp. Your man in the Defense Ministry.”

“Very good, Herr Oberkommissar.”

Hoffner plowed on. “Nepp was the one to give the orders to separate Luxemburg and Liebknecht that night.” Another flash of clarity. “And he was the one responsible for getting Wouters out of Belgium, wasn’t he?” When Manstein said nothing, Hoffner continued, “Oster’s orders. The ones to get him over the border. They were signed by General Nepp, weren’t they?”

Manstein was actually enjoying this. “Excellent.” Again Braun made a motion to speak, and again Manstein stopped him. “Go on, Herr Oberkommissar.”

“You created the conspiracy with the sole purpose of laying it all at Ebert’s feet. The tragedy of the last two months-it was all meant to be seen as little more than a highly elaborate scheme by the government to get rid of one of its more dangerous enemies. Rosa. I

“The city terrorized,” Manstein added with a strange satisfaction.

“Except it’s not you and your Thulian friends who get the blame. The conspiracy comes to light, and it’s Herr Nepp who makes certain to implicate the Social Democrats when he falls on his sword. The government is sent reeling and the Freikorps steps in to bring us all back from the brink.”

“No wonder you managed it so quickly with Wouters,” Manstein said.

Backhanded compliments aside, Hoffner needed to fill in the missing pieces. “So why hold on to her?” he said. “Why not have Rosa’s body discovered in late January? Everything else was in place.”