The berlin conspiracy by Tom Gabbay

Author:Tom Gabbay [Tom Gabbay]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Tags: Policier
ISBN: 9780060787882
Published: 2006-12-07T16:25:32+00:00

THIRTEEN

My brother was right, Kovinski wasn’t hard to find. In fact, he turned out to be a listed spy. I came across a public phone a couple of blocks from where Horst and Hanna lived, decided to start there, see if I got lucky. And there he was—”Kovinski, A,” sandwiched between “Kosche, G” and “Krause, H.” I tore the page out, stuffed it in my pocket, and jumped into a taxi.

In the ride over, I took the photo out and studied his face, thought about how I should handle him. He was a weasel, the kind of clown who thinks he’s playing all the angles when in fact they’re playing him. He’d act tough at first, but fold under pressure. I had an idea about how to play him, but I wasn’t gonna fuck around if he didn’t go for it. There wasn’t time and I wasn’t in the mood.

Kovinski lived in a low-rent neighborhood, in a cluster of concrete high-rises built in the Josef Stalin style of architecture. The buildings were grouped around a sad-looking common that was probably planned as an urban oasis, where residents could get away from their drab, airless apartments, but ended up as an empty patch of dust and overgrown weeds. There wasn’t a soul in sight.

I paid Melik, my Turkish cabby, double the meter and told him to keep it running. A young immigrant with a twinkle in his eye and passable English, he nodded squarely when I told him to follow at a discreet distance if I went anywhere. I found my way to Kovinski’s building and rang the bell for apartment 5C.

“Wer ist es?” came a voice over the speaker.

“I’m looking for Aleks Kovinski,” I said. There was a beat of silence before he responded, this time in heavily accented English.

“Who is asking?”

“I’m looking for a lost lamb,” I said, knowing that would cut through a lot of bullshit. An even longer pause followed.

“I come down,” he finally said.

It was turning out to be a perfect June day, sunny and bright, but the stillness of the area was kind of spooky. I felt like I was being watched, but shook it off. Pregame jitters, I told myself. When Kovinski appeared he didn’t hang around, flew out the door and right past me. I caught up after a few yards.

“Who are you?” he asked, glancing over without slowing his pace.

“A friend.” He gave me a contemptuous look, with good reason.

“Do you have a name?”

“Not one you need to know.”

“Some friend,” he scoffed.

“Maybe the only one you have.”

“What do you want?”

“To talk.”

“Go ahead,” he said. “Talk.”

“Can we slow down a little?”

He eased up a bit, looked me over more thoroughly. He was pretty much what I’d expected, only more so. I hadn’t even said “boo” yet and he was ready to panic.

“No one is suppose come here,” he said. “They don’t tell you?”

“Who are ‘they’?”

He stopped walking, looked at me, and frowned. He had said too much and realized it. “Who do you work for?” he demanded.

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