Winter Work Read online

  Emil removed his overcoat as quietly as possible and placed it on the end of his bed. He could have gone directly from there back into the great room, but instead retraced his steps through Bettina’s room. He reemerged to find Dorn facing Karola in awkward silence.

  “May I ask why a policeman is here?” Karola said, with characteristic frankness.

  Now Emil was off balance. He looked to Dorn for help, but the policeman obviously expected him to deliver the news.

  “Our neighbor, Lothar Fischer, was found dead this morning down by the lake. Perhaps a suicide, perhaps not.”

  She put a hand to her mouth.

  “I will make a fresh pot of coffee,” she whispered.

  “I’ll do that. Go and sit with Bettina. And, if you don’t mind, could you please shut the door?”

  She nodded and practically tiptoed away.

  “I’m fine without coffee, as long as you are,” Dorn said.

  “Very well. Please, then.” He gestured toward the couch. Dorn took a seat while Emil settled into the easy chair.

  “So your wife is not well?” the policeman asked in a lowered voice.

  “ALS. It’s a wasting disease. She has had it for nearly five years. A miracle she has survived this long, although the doctors say she may live for another three or four, so we try to keep her as comfortable as possible.”

  “Well, that is lucky, at least.”

  “Perhaps. It’s not much of a life, but she does understand everything that’s said to her. The doctors say her mind remains quite active, which is both a curse and a blessing. I read to her when I can. Play music. Tell her about my day. There’s a small television in there that we watch sometimes. But I do lean on Karola, her and another caretaker. Their presence allows me to work, and to make some time for myself. Of course, I don’t need as much of that as I used to, now that I no longer go into the office.”

  “Do you still have an apartment in Berlin?”

  “We do, in a tower block on Frankfurter Allee, only a few blocks from Normanenstrasse. I used to walk to work. But we haven’t stayed there in weeks. What would be the point anymore?”

  Especially when your neighbors were now shunning you, and people on the sidewalk stared with open hostility. Not that he blamed them, at least not when he was thinking clearly and frankly about what had become of his country during the past decade or so. Or maybe the rot had set in even sooner, while he, like so many others, had still been pretending not to notice. Relocating to Prenden had been an easy choice, even with the difficulties involved in moving Bettina.

  “So this is your home now?”

  “I suppose it is.”

  And how humbling was that, he wondered, to admit that he could no longer face life in the city where he had grown up and had worked for decades. This dacha had once been their oasis for spring and summer weekends, when the dappled sunlight of lengthy days could make it feel enchanted. But at this time of year, beneath drooping pines and a lowering sky, it often felt gloomy and marooned, a hideout more than a home.

  Dorn took out his notebook.

  Emil sat up straighter. The tricky part was about to begin.

  5

  “Tell me how you came to be at the scene of the shooting this morning,” Dorn asked.

  “I went out for my morning walk. Up the hill first, then down toward the lake. That’s when I saw the crime scene tape. Krauss and his people were already there.”

  “At what time did you leave your house?”

  “Around 7:30. It was barely light.”

  “Is that your daily routine?”

  “You can check all of this with Karola, by the way, after we’re done.”

  “I plan to.”

  Emil nodded.

  “I go for a walk first thing every morning. I try to vary the routes, but this morning I set out on my favorite one, which is about three miles long. It stays away from the lake for a mile or two, going off in that direction.” He gestured toward the side window. “Then it comes downhill to the upper end of the lake. I knew it must be Lothar the moment I saw the cap.”

  “The orange one that was lying beside him?”

  “He’s the only person up here with a cap that bright. You can always tell it’s him from clear across the water. Or could.”

  “Had you passed by that spot earlier?”

  “I hadn’t. I’d been up higher, in the trees.”

  “And what time was it, do you think, when you reached the body?”

  Emil checked his watch and thought about it for a second.

  “Close to 8:30, probably.”

  Dorn took down every word, in neat but slow shorthand.

  “Oh, by the way, we’ll need to get a photo of the bottom of your shoes. To try and make sense of who went where in all of this mud.”

  “Of course.”

  An interesting idea, if they could pull it off. He wondered what they would learn about Lothar’s movements that morning. Or Krauss’s, for that matter.

  “When did you last see him alive?”

  Here was where things got complicated.

  “Two, three days ago? And only in passing. He was out in his garden when I was walking by.”

  “Doing what?”

  Emil pretended to think about it for a moment.

  “Putting away some tools, maybe? Chores.”

  “Did you speak?”

  “Only to say hello. He might have said something about the weather.”

  “Did he seem overly depressed or despondent?”

  “No more so than all of us have been from our department.”

  “Did he have any particular enemies that you know of?”

  “Do you really need to ask that under our current circumstances? He was a high official with the Ministry of State Security. I can think of a few million people who would have been happy to see him dead.”

  “Then I take it you’re feeling similarly threatened?”

  “Not actually. No.”

  “Then maybe you should stop making speeches.”

  Emil flushed at the rebuke, another reminder of his sudden fall in rank and privilege. But he held his tongue. Let the policeman vent.

  “My question was more specific, as I’m sure you understood, but let me rephrase it for you. To your knowledge, was Lothar Fischer doing anything recently that might have made him a target, either in his work, or personally?”

  “If he was, then I’m not aware of it.”

  Dorn held his gaze. Emil, from his own experience in interrogation, knew better than to look away.

  “You’re certain?”

  “Only of my own knowledge, or lack of it. And that’s merely from my casual observation, as a neighbor and a colleague. Lothar only seemed to be doing the things that we have all been doing. Worrying about his future, trying to get his affairs in order for whatever might come next.”

  “And what does ‘getting your affairs in order’ mean, for someone in your position?”

  “Figuring out how long your savings will last. Wondering if the new state will accept you, or try to put you in jail. Lining up the names of a few lawyers in case the latter comes to pass. Thinking about possible employment. Making arrangements for my wife’s care, even if I’m no longer here to help with it.”

  “You have no children to help with that?”

  “No. We tried for many years, but…”

  Emil’s voice drifted off. If Bettina was awake, he hoped she hadn’t heard that answer. It was still a source of pain to both of them.

  “What about Lothar? What was he saying about all this?”

  “Pretty much the same. Except that he lives alone. He and his wife split up several years ago.”

  “And you say he was left-handed? You’re sure of that?”

  “Yes. It will be in his personnel
file, if there’s still anyone around to let you see it.”

  “I am curious as to why you didn’t point that out to Krauss.”

  Emil shrugged. He was back on delicate ground.

  “The charitable view would be to assume Krauss knew. Maybe he was waiting to see if I did as well.”

  “And is that your view?”

  “The word ‘charitable’ would not apply to any of my views with regard to Dieter Krauss.”

  “Do you believe he’s capable of having placed the gun in Lothar Fischer’s hand?”

  “That would mean believing he was capable of killing him.”

  “And?”

  “Personally?” He paused to choose his words. “Killing is not his style. Or not with a gun. Krauss isn’t one to dirty his hands. His method has always been more in the nature of making sure others are available to do things on his behalf.”

  “Like those men who were with him?”

  Emil shook his head.

  “No. The messier the job, the further removed he likes to stay. That’s one reason it’s called the Spezialkommission. They have always had a, well, unorthodox way of going about their business.”

  “I am aware of that through my own previous contact with Dieter Krauss. He meddles quite a bit when he feels like it. But do you think he’s capable of having placed the gun there for the benefit of someone else?”

  Emil shrugged again. He wasn’t going to venture any further out on that limb, but he was pleased that Dorn had gone there. All the same, it was a disturbing possibility.

  “I wouldn’t want to venture a guess, not without knowing for sure. Even now he probably has…allies who could make things difficult for me.”

  “He certainly seems to act as if he does. And who are some of these allies?”

  “Other government figures, a few who still hold some leverage. I’m not sure I could even name them.”

  “I think you’re underestimating your ability on that count, but let’s stay with the facts from this morning. How do you think Krauss was able to reach the scene before I did? Who told him about the body?”

  “More worthy questions that I don’t have answers for. When did you first receive the call?”

  “At least twenty minutes before I arrived. Fifteen for the drive from Bernau, plus another five for our walk down the lake. A neighbor phoned it in. A Frau Kunstler?”

  “Yes, I know her. She lives maybe a quarter mile from here, further down the lake. She’s quite dependable.”

  “She’d seen the body on a walk, and telephoned as soon as she got back to her house. So that’s at least five more minutes from the time of discovery. But she hadn’t seen anyone else. Krauss must have gotten there not long after she phoned me, and if he was coming from Berlin that’s at least a half-hour drive.”

  Useful information. Emil filed it away.

  “And you only saw Krauss when you were on your walk, and came upon the body? Not sooner?”

  “Not sooner.”

  “Do you also have a Makarov pistol?”

  “Of course. It was issued to me the day I was commissioned as an officer of the Ministry of State Security.”

  “Is a silencer part of the kit?”

  “It is. Along with a holster and, of course, ammunition.”

  “Do you keep it with you?”

  “It’s here at this house, if that’s what you’re asking.”

  “I am. I’d like to see it.”

  “Certainly. It’s in my bedroom.”

  Emil rose from his chair. Dorn stirred, and for a worrisome moment Emil thought the policeman would follow him. It’s certainly what he would have done. Instead, Dorn flipped a page to take more notes, and by then Emil was stepping through the bedroom door. He didn’t shut it behind him—that would have invited suspicion—but to his relief the door swung back far enough to shield what he needed to do next.

  He picked up his overcoat, which was still lying across the foot of the bed and still smelled like the outdoors. As quietly as possible, he reached into a baggy interior pocket and withdrew the pistol. He then stepped over to his dresser, where he noisily opened the top drawer and rooted around for several seconds, to provide suitable sound effects. Then he shut the drawer, went back out the door, and handed the gun to Dorn, who by then had put on a pair of surgical gloves.

  The policeman took the gun without comment and raised it to his nose. He sniffed the end of the barrel, checked the chamber for ammunition, and slid his fingers along the gun’s various parts, as if probing for residual heat.

  “It’s loaded,” he said.

  “It wouldn’t be much good to me unloaded.”

  “You might want to clean it sometime soon.”

  “I’ll take note of that.”

  Emil remained on his feet. Dorn handed back the gun. Emil placed it on the end table by his binoculars, which now drew Dorn’s attention as the policeman peeled off his gloves.

  “Do you ever use those from up here, first thing in the morning?”

  “Only if there’s something interesting at the bird feeder.”

  “And was that the case today?”

  “Not as I recall.”

  “How’s the view of the lake from here?”

  “See for yourself.”

  Dorn picked up the binoculars and stepped over to the big windows at the back of the house. He peered down toward the water, scanning from side to side as he adjusted the focus.

  “Anything interesting?” Emil asked.

  “I can see one of my men, but only because he has come up the path from the scene. Mostly it’s a lot of tree branches.”

  “That’s why I keep them by the other window.”

  Dorn returned the binoculars to their spot by the gun.

  “How long since you last fired that?”

  “Three months, maybe more? On the ministry’s practice range in Berlin.”

  “There will be records of that, I suppose.”

  “Of course. But…” Emil threw up his hands in a gesture of helplessness.

  “Yes. I suppose retrieving any sort of paperwork from Normanenstrasse is going to be a problem.”

  “Unless you can get this new interior minister, Herr Diestel, to do you a favor.”

  “I gather he’s rather busy with other things, like deciding what to do with all of you people.”

  “That shouldn’t take long.”

  “Tell me about your workplace, especially with regard to Lothar Fischer’s duties. I am of course aware that the HVA’s main job is, or was, foreign intelligence. But, if I may ask a delicate question, what precisely was his area of responsibility?”

  “Don’t be shy, Lieutenant. None of those kinds of secrets counts for much anymore. Lothar was in charge of our operations in all the Western countries beyond Bonn and the Federal Republic. The UK, France, the United States.”

  “Did those duties overlap with yours?”

  “To a degree. My focus was mostly NATO, and their headquarters in Brussels. So I was also interested in the Americans and the British, but strictly from the aspect of their military alliance in Europe, and anything they might be up to on that front.”

  “One makes plenty of enemies in that sort of work as well.”

  “Yes, except all of those enemies no longer have much of a reason to want us dead. They’ve been quite happy to accept our surrender.”

  Dorn let the remark settle. Then he shut his notebook and looked up with an expression of earnest interest.

  “I’d like some advice.”

  The request took Emil by surprise.

  “All right. If I’m able.”

  “What approach should I take with regard to getting a statement from Dieter Krauss?”

  “Well, I gather from what you’ve already said that you have a history with him.” br />
  “He horned in on one of my investigations, a few years back. Took it over completely. They gave us a copy of the final report, but it was missing a few key details, and that’s putting it charitably. So I complained to the ministry.”

  “And?”

  “No one ever replied, other than a perfunctory ‘Thanks for your interest.’ ”

  “That sounds about right. They treated us the same, if it’s any comfort. The Spezialkommission is its own little empire, reporting straight to the top. Or used to be.”

  “Do you think he would agree to be questioned at a neutral site?”

  “Not a chance. He only answers to people who do things his way, with a show of force. Take those two men of yours, and maybe one more, and catch him out when he’s alone and off his home ground. Even then, he probably won’t say much, but you’ll at least have his answers on record.”

  “With the ministry closed I wouldn’t even know where to find him. Even his home address is probably still a state secret. Unless you have it.”

  “I don’t. But those goons of his didn’t materialize from nowhere. He must have set up a new base of operations, off site and unofficial, and even Krauss wouldn’t be able to do that without other people knowing. Would you like me to ask around?”

  “Yes, I’d appreciate that.”

  On that front, Emil was glad to help. Making an ally out of a police lieutenant could be quite helpful going forward, and he had his own reasons for wanting to know Krauss’s current whereabouts.

  “Anything more?”

  “I’ll speak to your caretaker now, if you don’t mind.”

  “Certainly.”

  Emil went to fetch Karola. He had little doubt she’d been listening the entire time from behind the closed door, and he was confident she would back up his account—so much so that he excused himself to wait outdoors to put them both at ease. Might as well make Dorn think he had nothing to hide.

  The sky was clearing, or trying to. Emil walked to the lake side of the dacha and peered through the trees toward the other houses—Wolf’s, Lothar’s, Frau Kunstler’s, plus a few others that were deserted for the season. Lothar’s death meant he now had some extra chores to do, but he couldn’t attend to them until Dorn and even Karola were no longer around.