Berlin Burning by Damien Seaman

waiting for the time to strike. And Schupo did it for me! Shotgunned half the Bergmann brothers and jailed the other half. Beautiful to behold, it was.
    He worked for me on and off right up until last year. Then he comes and says he’s not working for me no more, and if I’ve got anything to say about that I can just take it up with the brownshirts.
    I knew that was it right there. And he’s been after me one way or another ever since.
    For me? A couple of house fires. A car crash. Just the one shooting. No one who’ll be missed.
    What do I think?
    I think he had his road to Damascus moment, joined the party. Decided he didn’t have enough time for my shit cause he had so much of theirs to take on.
    Well, the human brain can take only so much shit before it gets too full up. Least, that’s what I reckon.
    Oh, and you know the funniest thing? That mother and her kid weren’t even killed. Kessler didn’t know that. Still doesn’t.
    What happened to them? Christ, what do you care? All right, all right. Kid ended up working for me and I gave the mother a load of apartments to run. Sure, you know her. She’s the landlady at Maria’s old place.
    Chapter 18
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    â€˜S o that’s why he wants to get you so badly,’ Trautmann said.
    The Fleischer shrugged. ‘I’m no clairvoyant, but I reckon so.’
    Trautmann hoped that was all there was to it. He didn’t fancy Kessler being wrapped up in the murder like Roth had said. The case was twisted enough already. And now he was close enough to picking the girl’s brains it felt like the case was almost over.
    God, but he wanted this to end.
    They were huddled outside the Bahnhof Alexanderplatz, smoking cigarettes and waiting for their chance to get inside. It was just after 9am, the sun already high and blasting the city.
    The train tracks ran above ground at the Alexanderplatz, east to west. The ground trembled as another steam train pulled in overhead, its whistle blowing to make sure the tracks were clear.
    Roth had been right about one thing: Maria was in there somewhere. It seemed mad; the station was just across the street from police headquarters. Trautmann said as much to Fleischer.
    â€˜I just gambled on your guys being a bit less sharp so close to home,’ Fleischer said. ‘I mean, who would’ve thought I’d send her here, right?’
    Trautmann couldn’t work out how or where she’d hidden herself so the police hadn’t found her, and Fleischer wouldn’t say. In the twenty minutes they’d been there they’d spotted just one two-man Schupo patrol, so maybe Fleischer’s assumption stacked up.
    No sign of any plainclothesmen so far. But Trautmann dearly hoped they were there too.
    His plan depended on it.
    He took in their appearance. Torn clothing, burned skin and dried blood between the two of them. It would be a miracle if they made it inside without attracting attention – and the station was packed with travellers.
    Of course, there was always the legendary Berliner insouciance to contend with. These folks had seen enough of life – and of Berlin’s infamous nightlife – to consider very little out of the ordinary. A couple of mad tramps promenading through a busy station at nine in the morning could well attract no notice whatsoever. And Trautmann didn’t want that.
    Fleischer finished his smoke and tossed it away. ‘Ready?’ he said.
    Trautmann took a couple more puffs, then scrunched his out underfoot. ‘We’re not going to get very far looking like this, are we?’
    â€˜Just walk like you’ve got somewhere to go to. Purpose. We’ll be all right, you’ll see.’
    They entered the building at street level, passing two men in business suits with briefcases who stopped to gawp. But sure enough, the men didn’t stop for long and just carried right on out of the