Self's punishment - By Bernhard Schlink & Walter Popp Page 0,16

what to do. Then I recalled that the boys from Security would have set their trap and I went over to the computer centre to take a look. Oelmüller wasn’t there. One of his co-workers whose badge revealed him to be a Herr Tausendmilch showed me on screen the message sent to users about the false data file.

‘Should I print it out for you? It’s no problem at all.’

I took the printout and went over to Firner’s office. Neither Firner nor Frau Buchendorff were there. A typist regaled me on the subject of cacti. I’d had enough for one day and left the Works.

If I’d been younger I’d have driven out to the Adriatic regardless of the rain to swim off my hangover. If I could just have got into my car I’d maybe have done it anyway, regardless of age. But with my injured arm I still couldn’t drive. The guard, the same one as on the day of the accident, called a taxi for me.

‘Ah, you’re the fellow who brought in Schmalz’s son on Friday. You’re Self? Then I have something for you. He scrabbled beneath the control and alarm desk and came back up with a package that he handed over with ceremony.

‘There is a cake inside as a surprise for you. Frau Schmalz baked it.’

I had the taxi take me to the Herschel baths. It was women’s only day in the sauna. I had it take me to the Kleiner Rosengarten, my local, and ate a saltimbocca romana. Then I went to the movies.

The first movie showing in the early afternoon has its charm, regardless of what’s playing. The audience consists of tramps, thirteen-year-olds, and frustrated intellectuals. When there were still students who lived out of town, they went to the early showing. Pupils who matured earlier used to go to the early showing to make out. But Babs, a friend who’s headmistress of a high school, assures me that pupils now make out at school and are all made out by one o’clock.

I’d ended up in the wrong theatre – the cinema had seven of the things – and had to watch On Golden Pond. I liked all the actors but when it was over I was glad I no longer had a wife, and never had a daughter or some little bastard of a grandson.

On the way home I looked in at the office. I picked up a message that Schneider had hanged himself. Frau Buchendorff had spoken with extreme matter-of-factness on the answering machine and asked to be called back immediately.

I poured myself a sambuca.

‘Did Schneider leave a note?’

‘Yes. We have it here. We think your case is over now. Firner would like to see you to talk about it.’

I told Frau Buchendorff I’d be there straight away, and called a taxi.

Firner was light of heart. ‘Greetings, Herr Self. Terrible thing to happen. He hanged himself in the laboratory with an electric cable. A poor trainee found him. We tried everything to revive him of course. No use. Read the suicide note, we have our man.’

He handed me the photocopy of a hastily scrawled sheet of paper, apparently meant for his wife.

My Dorle – forgive me. Do not think you didn’t love me enough – without your love I’d have done this a long time ago. I can’t go on now. They know everything and leave me no option. I wanted to make you happy and give you everything – may God grant you an easier life than in these past dreadful years. You deserve it so much. I embrace you. Unto death – your Franz.

‘You have your man? This leaves everything open. I spoke with Schneider this morning. It’s gambling that had him in its clutches and drove him to death.’

‘You’re a defeatist.’ Firner bellowed with laughter in my face, his mouth wide open.

‘If Korten thinks the case has been solved, he can of course relinquish my services at any time. I believe, though, that you’re jumping to conclusions. And you yourself don’t take them that seriously. Or have you already deactivated the computer trap?’

Firner wasn’t impressed. ‘Routine, Herr Self, routine. Naturally the trap is still in place. But for the time being the matter is over. We just have a few details to clear up. How, above all, Schneider managed to manipulate the system.’

‘I’m quite certain you’ll be on the phone to me soon.’

‘Let’s see, Herr Self.’ Firner, honest to God, stuck his thumbs into the waistcoat of his three-piece suit