Death's Head by Campbell Armstrong

Author:Campbell Armstrong [Armstrong, Campbell]
Language: eng
Format: azw3
ISBN: 9781504004121
Publisher: Open Road Media Mystery & Thriller
Published: 2015-04-21T00:00:00+00:00

14

‘What is it? What do you want?’

The woman held the door open a little way. Because of the angle of light it was hard for Schwarzenbach to make out her features. He moved forward.

‘You want to come in, do you?’

Schwarzenbach said, ‘For a little while.’

She held the door open and showed him down a corridor that led into a large room.

‘What can I do for you then?’ she asked.

She sat on the mattress and looked at him with a bored expression while she began to undo the buttons of her nightdress.

‘I didn’t come here for sex,’ Schwarzenbach said.

‘What do you want then?’ She left the buttons undone. Her breasts were large and heavy and an attempt had been made to cover the cracked nipples with a scarlet lipstick.

‘I want some information,’ he said.

‘Are you police?’

Schwarzenbach found a chair and sat down. ‘There was a man with you not long ago –’

‘He’s gone, sweetheart.’

‘I know he’s gone,’ Schwarzenbach said and noticed, with some fascination, that his fingers were smeared with Grunwald’s blood.

‘I can’t give you any information,’ she said. She lay back across the mattress and fingered her own breasts, as though to excite him. He found the spectacle dreary.

He took some money from his pocket and threw it on the floor.

‘Tell me what you know about him.’

‘I don’t know anything,’ she said, and made no move to pick up the banknotes. ‘He’s a pathetic wretch whose life has been ruined by the concentration camps –’

‘I’m not interested in the past,’ Schwarzenbach said. ‘Did he tell where he was living? Did he tell you anything about his future plans?’

‘Nothing.’ She shook her head and stared at him. ‘Even if I knew anything, I doubt if I’d tell you.’

Schwarzenbach shifted his feet on the bare floorboards. He was in no mood to be buggered around by a whore. If she knew anything, if Grunwald had mentioned anything about his whereabouts, he was determined to find out. He looked again at the blood on his fingers: it was already dry. It was dry and sticky and the sight of it contributed to his frustration. Grunwald had eluded him: the little Jew was free, somewhere in the city, moving somewhere now across the darkness.

‘If you know anything, I suggest you tell me,’ he said.

‘Why should I? If you want him, you’d better find him.’

‘I said that you better tell me anything you know.’

‘Look, I don’t like being imposed upon. I don’t like men who get me out of bed in the middle of the night for no reason at all. What do you want him for anyway? He hasn’t done any harm –’

‘Shut up.’

‘I love your manners. You must have gone to all the right schools.’

‘Shut up. I’m not interested in your opinions.’ Schwarzenbach looked round the room. If the whore knew nothing, he was wasting his time. But Berlin was a large city with a thousand secret places and he could spend too much time looking for the Jew. He got up from his chair and walked around the room.

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