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Five minutes later, Hoffner joined Pimm and his men in an alley across from the site. They all stood in the shadows, eyes fixed on the ramp.
“You could have had a career on the stage,” said Hoffner as he watched and waited.
“I’ll keep that in mind,” said Pimm. “You’re sure he’s-”
Franz appeared at the top of the ramp. He slipped on the wood and then bounded out into the square before heading south toward Alexanderplatz.
Hoffner stepped from the shadows and said, “I’m sure.”
Rosa lay quietly in the outline that had once been Mary Koop’s. They had done their best to scrub her clean of the grease. They had even clothed her. Even so, her hair was still slick, and her face had an odd shine to it, especially in the torchlight: she looked as if she had been swimming.
Hoffner was kneeling by her side, his coat heavy from the rain. He had been like this for several minutes, replaying the dream and the pebble and the sun in his eyes as he had tried to find her. Odd, he thought, to be alone with her now. She had been words to him, an image in his head, alive and defiant: here, she seemed so much less than that. This was death, a body-a tool-nothing more. She was being used again, and for that, Hoffner felt his only remorse.
He heard the sound of footsteps approaching from beyond the cavern’s opening, and he slowly tightened the grip around his pistol: he kept it low, hidden behind Rosa’s torso. From the sound of it, there were several men making their way back. Hoffner tried to pick out the exact number: it was the only way he knew to keep his mind focused.
A light began to grow, the beam bobbing to the rhythm of the steps as they drew closer. Hoffner heard a whispering of voices, indistinct words dulled by the wood and dirt. A single “There” broke through, and a moment later two young soldiers-Freikorps from their uniforms-stepped into the shadowed chamber. Immediately they raised their rifles, keeping Hoffner in their sights. Braun was directly behind them; he stepped past them as a second man appeared at the opening. The man had a strikingly handsome face and carried a small jar in his hands.
Braun spoke with his usual charm: “What a surprising sense of symmetry you have, Herr Oberkommissar. The Rosenthaler Platz. Wouters’s den. One might even say there’s a sentimental side to you.” Hoffner said nothing.
The second man now stepped forward. His focus was on Rosa. He seemed agitated. “They’ve removed the unguent.”
Braun put up a hand to stop him. “Step away from the body, Herr Oberkommissar.”
Hoffner remained where he was. “You can tell Herr Doktor Manstein that I’m quite harmless, Herr Braun. Especially when I’ve got two rifles aimed at my chest.”
Braun showed only a moment’s surprise. “And what else did you learn on your trip to Munich, Herr Oberkommissar?”
Hoffner spoke across to Manstein. “Your father-in-law did excellent work creating this little haven for Wouters, Herr Doktor. Naturally the idea was yours.”
Manstein studied Hoffner. He said nothing.
“I’m guessing the engineer Sazonov wasn’t much of an expense,” Hoffner continued. “Or his family. No reason to pay the dead.” Hoffner saw a glimmer of confirmation in the eyes. “Must have been difficult being away from Munich all that time. The only one who knew how to apply the Ascomycete 4 to Frulein Koop, the only one who could placate Wouters with the appropriate injections between escapades, though I’m sure Herr Direktor Schumpert was delighted to have his daughter and grandchildren in the city for such an extended period of time.”
Manstein stared at him without a trace of emotion. “Am I meant to be impressed?”
“But that’s not all you were good for, was it, Herr Doktor?” said Hoffner.
Manstein’s gaze grew colder still. “Can we shoot him now and get on with this?”
Hoffner looked at Braun. “That would make it quite a day for you, wouldn’t it, Herr Braun?”
“Even with your back up against it,” said Braun. “I will give you that.” Braun unclipped his holster. “You’re going to be my second carver, Herr Hoffner. Quite a story for the papers. Killing your own wife. Now, what kind of mind does that?” Braun began to pull out his pistol.
Without warning, six of Pimm’s men emerged from the shadows, their guns drawn. Two had appeared from just outside the opening and now had their pistols pressed up against each of the soldiers’ necks. The rifles were quickly handed over. Braun had turned at the sudden movement, and when he looked back, the barrel of Hoffner’s pistol was staring him in the face. Hoffner reached over and took Braun’s gun. He then nodded him over to a pair of chairs that Pimm was placing at the center of the cavern. Braun showed remarkable restraint as he made his way over.
“So tell me,” said Braun as Zenlo tied off his hands behind him. “How is little Franz?”
“Don’t worry,” said Hoffner. “He still thinks he was helping you.”
“Which means he’ll know you were the one to pull the trigger when I end up dead, won’t he?”
Hoffner holstered his gun and said, “Now, why would I want to do that?”
Pimm nodded over to the men by the soldiers. “Get the two of them out of here. Keep them busy for a few hours. Shoot them if you have to.”
Hoffner waited until the Freikorps boys were gone before speaking. He picked up the jar and said, “Your private stash, Herr Doktor?” Manstein remained silent. “It was the only way I could think of getting you back here. How long do you think before she needs another slathering?”
Braun said, “If you’re not going to kill us, Herr Oberkommissar, then this is going to be a very long night.”
Hoffner nodded as if in agreement. “I said I wasn’t going to kill you, Herr Braun. I can’t speak for my friends, here.” Hoffner hurled the jar against the wall and watched as the glass and grease shattered to the ground. “Wouters,” he said, again nodding to himself. “That was such a clever choice, wasn’t it? Old women and lace. Luxemburg and Jew-baiting, all in one.” He turned to Manstein. “It must have taken you months to find him. . all the way back to June of ’18. But then, you were already familiar with Sint-Walburga and their intriguing new patient, weren’t you?” Hoffner saw a moment of recognition in Manstein’s otherwise implacable stare. “Did they call you in to consult on the original case? Or was it a letter from a colleague that introduced you to Herr Wouters?” Manstein’s silence was confirmation enough. “Very impressive, Herr Doktor. You knew the war was lost, the Kaiser was on shaky ground. And we were suddenly at peace with the Russians-who knew what to expect from the socialists after that? But to see all the way through to November, to revolution. .” Hoffner looked across at Pimm. “That was very impressive, don’t you think?”
Pimm perked up at being included. “Oh yes,” he said with a nod. “Very.”
Manstein snorted dismissively.
“It wasn’t very impressive, mein Herr?” said Hoffner.
Manstein refused to look at Hoffner. “Just because you don’t understand a thing doesn’t mean it isn’t possible.” His voice had a refined quality: schools, breeding, a sense of entitlement. Manstein did nothing to hide his contempt. “It was a precautionary measure.” He now looked up. “Evidently it was a precaution worth taking.”
Hoffner said, “So you did all of this just to cover up killing Luxemburg?”
Manstein looked genuinely perplexed by the question. “Is that what you think, Herr Policeman?”
It wasn’t, but Hoffner needed to engage the man. Braun saw what Hoffner was after and tried to stop it. “Herr Doktor, you don’t have to say anything-”
“Shut up, Braun.” Manstein continued to stare up at Hoffner.