The Good Thief's Guide to Berlin (34 page)

“Yeah? Maybe you should have thought of that before you played my friend’s throat like a bagpipe.”

“An ambulance, then. Something.”

I thought about his request. I guessed it was something I could do. But I didn’t plan on being here when the emergency services turned up, and I wasn’t crazy about the idea of leaving him all by himself. He’d killed a woman. I’d watched him do it. And he’d come close to choking the life from Victoria, too. Right at that moment, I didn’t care who he was. I didn’t give a damn about what might be at stake.

I glanced toward Victoria. She was sitting with her back against the wall of the stairwell, her elbows propped on her knees. Her face was flushed and she was breathing shallowly, her chest rising and falling like she was recovering from a long-distance run. She glared out through wet, tangled hair. She didn’t appear to be in a forgiving mood.

The cash box was off to one side, not far from Buster’s cage. I snatched my foot away from the cable and went and scooped it up in my hands, trying to decide if I should open it or not. I was still making up my mind when I heard footfalls approaching fast from below. I twirled and raised my pistol and aimed toward the stairs just as Freddy emerged, followed by a second man.

Freddy was ruddy-faced and sweating, and if I hadn’t known otherwise, I could have believed that he was the victim of an attempted strangling himself. He braced a hand against the wall, panting and wheezing.

The second man was Andrew Stirling. I recognized him from the photo I’d seen clipped to his personnel file, though he looked many years older in the flesh. His dark hair was flecked with gray at the temples and the roots of his side parting, and his face was deeply lined and jowly.

He appeared a lot more composed than Freddy. He was strong and fit and determined enough for a man half his age. He paced into the middle of the floor, ignoring the gun in my hand entirely.

“Donald,” he said, addressing the ambassador with measured concern, “we’re going to get you some help. Freddy here is going to call for an ambulance. You have to hold on. Understand?”

“Better call the police, too,” I told him. “They can arrest him for murder.”

Stirling’s body sagged. He half turned toward me. “Jane?” he murmured, eyes downcast.

I nodded. “He strangled her. And he nearly did the same thing to Victoria, here.”

At my prompting, Victoria raised her head and unzipped the collar of her saturated tracksuit top, exposing her throat. Her skin was angry and enflamed. It was starting to bruise.

“Very well,” Stirling said, and clenched his fists at his sides. “You can put the gun down now. And you can hand me the box.”

“You’re asking me to trust you?”

He straightened his shoulders and stared at me forcefully. “I am.”

I’d barely opened my mouth to respond when I became aware of some scuffling and grunting off to my side.

“Donald, No!” Freddy shouted, breaking into a run.

But it was too late.

I saw the ambassador’s lower legs and his shoes disappear over the edge. I heard the fractured note of his deathly wail. I didn’t hear the squishy impact of his body striking the uncompromising concrete way below, and it’s something I’ll be forever grateful for.

Stirling and Freddy rushed toward the safety cables, skidding to a halt. They glanced over the side, then recoiled and covered their eyes with their hands.

I’d moved as well. I’d already determined what I would do. The contents of the box had been responsible for two deaths I knew of. My best friend had almost been victim number three. And I’d had all kinds of people pursuing me and threatening me, issuing ultimatums and manipulating me.

Who was to say giving the box to Freddy and Stirling was the right thing to do? Who was to say it wouldn’t lead to more trouble down the line?

I freed the grenade from my pocket, and with shaking hands, I pulled the pin, flipped back the lid on the cash box, and dropped the grenade inside. I closed the lid. I drew back my arm. Then I flung the box out from the tower, as high and as far as I could manage, and just as it lost height and began to plummet, the thing exploded like a solitary, wretched firework at a rained-out display.

FORTY-TWO

We were driven away in another blacked-out town car after Stirling had summoned some embassy staff to control the scene and before the emergency services had been contacted. During our journey across Berlin, speeding toward the British embassy, I shared everything I knew about the ambassador’s killing of Jane Parker with Freddy and Stirling. I told them where her body could be found. I assured them that seeing her strangled was something I would never forget. And I made it clear that the ambassador had deserved much worse than the cowardly dive he’d taken from the top of the listening tower.

They didn’t say a lot in response. Maybe they thought I was just blowing off steam. Maybe they believed I was having a bad reaction to the shock of it all. Or maybe they were just so peeved about me blowing up the list of informers and British agents that they found it difficult to cool down and talk to me.

Victoria seemed to be suffering from a similar complaint. She barely spoke until we found ourselves inside Freddy’s office, with only a damp and mercifully subdued Buster for company. Freddy was consulting with Stirling elsewhere in the building, but he’d arranged some blankets and brandy for us. I’d used my blanket to dry my hair and face, then dropped it to the floor. Victoria was wrapped tightly in hers, clutching it around her shoulders like she was about to start a campfire sing-along. I just hoped that Buster wouldn’t come round from his daze and decide to join in.

“You shouldn’t have destroyed that list,” she said, pressing her face close to the still-wet bars of Buster’s cage and offering him a concerned look. Her voice was hoarse and scratchy. She caressed her throat with her fingertips, like she was badly in need of a throat lozenge. Combine the gesture with the woolen blanket, and I could have believed that she was battling a dose of flu.

“You could be right,” I told her. “But I was angry. I was fed up with being pushed around.”

“This situation is bigger than just us, Charlie.”

“Tell me about it. We know the British ambassador was a killer. We could create a big scandal.”

“Oh, hush.” Victoria nudged Buster’s cage away from her, as if to shield him from our conversation. “You’re forgetting that we don’t have all the details. For all we know, he could have been trying to
protect
the list.”

I turned and stared at her. We were sitting in a pair of visitor chairs facing Freddy’s desk. His tin robot was close at hand and his silly Airfix planes were arranged on the shelving unit just across from us. I was tempted to wield the robot like a mallet and set about obliterating every last one of his models. Victoria’s reasoned tone only made it worse.

“He … tried … to … kill … you,” I said, as though I was hammering the words into her brain. “I had to watch him do it. I had to stand there, helpless, as he squeezed the air from your throat.”

Victoria cast another protective look toward Buster. His dark plumage was oily and matted, kicked up into an incongruous quiff on the crown of his head. The streak of orange around his neck and the flashes of white on his wingtips seemed faded and dull.

“Do you know how hard that was?” I asked. “Do you get it?”

“I have a feeling it was worse for me,” Victoria whispered, hunkering down into her blanket.

“I thought I’d lost you.”

“I’m no victim,” she said, and fixed her jaw like she meant it. “If you had to write a role for me, I’d be the kick-ass heroine. You should have known that I’d be okay.”

“But I wasn’t writing the scene, Vic.”

“Oh, I know.” She smiled faintly, her skin colorless and waxy. “It was way too graphic. And I didn’t spot any typos.”

For once, I couldn’t engage in this old game of ours. I wasn’t in the mood to make the real seem fictional. I was trying to tell her something important here. I was doing my best to explain my emotions. The worrying part was I suspected she knew that very well. And yet she’d diverted me regardless.

“Vic,” I began again. “I went through hell up there. I didn’t know what to do. And the reason it was so bad is because—”

But I didn’t get to finish what I was saying. Right then, the door behind me swung open fast and Stirling marched inside, followed by Freddy.

“We found Jane,” Stirling said, his words a rushed mumble. He advanced behind Freddy’s desk and leaned his weight on his hands. His shirtsleeves were rolled up on his forearms. His tie was loosened and his collar unbuttoned. “She was dead, just like you said.”

“We wouldn’t have left her if there was any chance that she could have been revived,” I told him.

“You shouldn’t have left her at all. You should have contacted Freddy immediately.”

“Oh?” I shot a look toward Freddy. He was standing with his back against the closed door to the ambassador’s office. He didn’t seem to know what to do with his hands. First, he tried clasping them behind his back. Then he took to wringing them together in front of his belly. He became even more agitated when he caught sight of Buster’s cage. Clearly, he didn’t appreciate the way it was dripping rainwater onto the lush varnish of his desk. “And why would I do that?” I asked. “I didn’t know who I could trust.”

“You were working for Freddy.”

I shook my head. “I work for myself. Freddy hired me, yes. But my first priority was to protect myself and Victoria.”

“Fine job you did of it.”

“Hey,” I complained. “I really don’t know why you’re so keen to defend Freddy. He had me break into your home, don’t forget.” I paused for a moment. Then I tapped my temple. “Come to mention it, you were the one who had Buster. Care to expand on that?”

“I don’t have any reason to explain myself to you.”

“Maybe not. But you owe it to Victoria, at least. Do you see what your boss did to her? Go on, take a good look. She’s lucky to be alive. You were working for a killer. A guy who was cold enough to throttle a member of your staff and then show up here to drink champagne and scoff canapés with the mayor of Berlin a half hour later.”

Stirling bunched his fists, and the muscles and tendons in his arms squirmed beneath his skin. “You think I don’t know that?” he asked, in a low rumble. “You think we’re not all horrified by what’s happened?”

“Are you?”

His jaw was trembling. I got the impression he was having to fight the temptation to vault across the desk and show me how to
really
throttle someone. But he contained himself. He pushed off from the desk and waved his hand at Freddy, like he wanted him to step in.

“The fact is, there’s actually been a bit of a mix-up,” Freddy said, worrying his hands even faster.

“Talk about an understatement,” Victoria muttered.

Freddy took a hesitant step toward us, as if he was afraid that the area of carpet in front of him might give way and collapse.

“It seems Andrew had been suspicious about the ambassador’s conduct for quite some time. He’d noticed one or two examples of … unusual behavior.”

“Such as?”

“Such as he was meeting with people. Representatives of foreign governments.”

“Doesn’t sound so unusual to me,” I said. “Isn’t that what an ambassador is supposed to do?”

“Not like this.” Freddy tucked his hands beneath his armpits. He rocked on his heels. “The meetings weren’t sanctioned. Or recorded.”

“Oh.”

“They were taking place late at night,” Stirling cut in, growing impatient. “I know, because I followed him. He was using a number of unoccupied apartments that the embassy rents in the building where you found Jane’s body. We’re between postings at the moment, or else there’d be staff living in them.”

“Why was he doing it?” Victoria croaked, then reached for the glass of brandy on the desk in front of her.

“Money,” Freddy said. “It appears that he was trying to sell information.”

“What kind of information?”

“The pages of code you found. The location of the list of informants who’ve assisted our government.”

Victoria sipped her brandy and swallowed with some difficulty. “So he was betraying you,” she said, her voice a dry rasp.

“It seems so.”

“Where did the code originate from?”

Freddy took another anxious step forward. Any closer and I feared he might break out in hives. “The ambassador’s uncle,” he said. “He worked in Berlin during the Cold War. In the listening station, as a matter of fact. We believe he compiled the list of names in the first place.”

“Of course,” Stirling added, tossing me a hostile look, “thanks to you, we’re no longer in a position to verify if the list was accurate. But if just one name had been correct, it could have been disastrous for us. Embarrassing, certainly. Many of the people identified might be dead or inactive, but at least some of them could have been or may still be prominent individuals. Even now, this whole situation could still cause ructions. Suspicion. Accusations. Repercussions for certain influential families or organizations. A mess, in short.”

Freddy waited until Stirling was done before picking up the thread. “Donald’s uncle died a little over a year ago now. After he passed away, Donald was posted to Berlin as the British ambassador and his aunt had some of his uncle’s old papers shipped over to him. We believe Donald found the handwritten pages of code among them.”

And the numbered sequence, I supposed.

“And his first thought was to make some fast cash?”

Freddy blew air through his lips. “He was under a lot of stress. A lot of strain.”

“Nonsense,” Stirling said. “He was a greedy sod. Always had been. Spineless, too. That’s why he didn’t fetch the hidden package for himself in the first place. Scared of being followed, I imagine. So he thought he’d sell its location to the highest bidder. Hence his meetings with the Russians, the Yanks, the French—”

“And that’s how they were on to you so quickly,” Freddy cut in. “Once you started working for me, and once they heard that you were searching for a missing package, they must have realized that it could be connected somehow. They must have guessed they had an opportunity to grab the list without paying the fee Donald was demanding, and before anyone else might get their hands on it.”