Until the Debt Is Paid by Alexander Hartung Read Free Book Online Page B

the day after that, and after that. The recent months they’d had together had been such a happy time.
    Jan laid the picture on his chest. The clock above Chandu’s TV read 3:08 a.m. He closed his eyes and let his thoughts drift back to that evening. To that very moment in the photo, among all those laughing people and the loud music. He thought he felt Betty’s hand on his shoulder and heard her voice. His mouth spread into a smile. And he fell asleep.

Chapter 4
    The sound of a garbage truck woke Jan. He’d only slept three hours.
    He wondered if he should even get up. What was the point in keeping at it? He was suspected of murder and would probably never get his badge back. His girlfriend was dead. All he had loved was destroyed. Blown away.
    Chandu’s revolver lay holstered on the table. It was a .45 caliber. Dirty Harry make. It would be so easy just to get away from it all. A single pull of his finger, a brief, sharp pain. Maybe a guy didn’t really die but only sank into eternal sleep. A tempting thought. Asleep, he could dream. Of bygone bliss.
    Eventually, he stood up. He got dressed. He checked out his strung-out face in the mirror. He had never looked so pathetic, not even after the wildest partying. He washed and used his wet hands to fix his unruly hair. Then he slipped into his shoes, put on a hat, and went out.
    He loved this city. This was his place in the world, but today it looked old and filthy. Gray and lacking love. On the way to the subway, it started raining. Pretty lightly at first. He barely felt the drops. Then it got stronger, as if the sky wanted to wash all the filth of the earth into the sewers. He raised his head, took off his hat, and showed his face to the clouds. He shut his eyes, the rain blending with his tears. As he cried without restraint, some of the anguish drained from his heart.
    Eventually the rain let up, and his tears dried as patches of blue sky emerged overhead. He ran his fingers through his wet hair, breathing in the fresh air. It seemed a lifetime since he had last felt so free. Released. And his thoughts of dying were swept away.

    It was 8:00 a.m. Jan knew Father Anberger’s habits. The old man always woke up at the same time, prayed, got dressed, and took a stroll through the Tiergarten. His knees were a little worn out with age, but neither the aches in his legs nor bad weather kept him from his stroll. Always the same. No matter if it was a workday or a weekend.
    Jan stood next to an overhanging oak and waited, scanning a newspaper he’d bought but not really comprehending the words. His entire focus was on his surroundings. He needed to keep his guard up and at all costs avoid being recognized by any on-duty cops. Even the guys from city services knew him. Berlin was a small town sometimes. You were always running into the wrong people at the wrong time.
    When Jan spotted Father Anberger, he exhaled with relief. Not much was happening in the Tiergarten on this Tuesday morning. People were riding bikes on their way to work, and the rain had scared off the stroller set. It was too early for tourists. The perfect time to meet.
    Father Anberger was walking a little stooped, so he didn’t notice Jan until the younger man was right in front of him.
    “Good morning, Herr Tommen.” The priest sounded happy to see him. Nothing in his demeanor suggested that anything about their friendly relationship had changed. Maybe he hadn’t heard yet? Jan wondered. On the walk over, he had thought about how to proceed with this conversation, and he had finally decided to just be direct.
    “Good morning, Father Anberger.” Jan had trouble looking him in the eye. “As you might have heard,” he began, getting right to it, “I’m under suspicion of murder.”
    “Yes. Your colleagues came to my place. They questioned me.”
    “I didn’t kill anyone,” Jan told him.
    “And I did not believe it,” Father Anberger said with such conviction that Jan got a lump in his throat.