"When the urge hits"-a wide smile-"but of course, you know that very well, Inspektor. Margot was quite lovely."

This time Berg didn't dare close his eyes, although the temptation was very strong. The unadulterated look of hatred in Britta's eyes was a knife through his heart. He deserved bitter condemnation. His stupidity had put his family in mortal danger. He couldn't live with such guilt-he was better off dead. Most likely that was going to be the outcome anyway, but why did he have to take down his family as well?

Roddewig was talking.

". . . out of our deep friendship, I told Rolf that I'd take care of it. Obviously I knew how the others had been slain. . . ."

Because you had murdered them.

". . . replicated the exact marks on Gottlieb with the same necklace as on Marlena. I knew that the hook-nosed Jew Kolb would be shrewd enough to pick it up."

There it was. That click from behind again.

Stall him.

Berg had to make his plea. "The police and the public have already decided that Anton Gross was responsible for Anna's death. All we have to do is make Schoennacht responsible for the others, Herr Kommandant. That will not be difficult at all."

"And that's exactly what I plan to happen, Inspektor. Rolf will take the blame. Unfortunately, that will not help you at all. You know too much about the murders, and more important, you know too much about me. It is too dangerous to keep you alive. But I am a man of mercy, my friend. I'll kill you before I kill your family, so you won't have to watch. And as far as my aunt goes, she will meet with a very gentle death." A grin. "Gentle because she is family."

The noise coming from behind had stopped.

Keep stalling.

"Just between us, sir. How did you intend to blame Schoennacht for the murders of Edith and little Johanna Mayrhofer?"

"Rolf was supposed to leave for Paris. He didn't. His change of itinerary makes him look utterly guilty."

"Why didn't he leave?"

"Hitler asked him to attend the rally. Schoennacht was honored. The man is a dupe for anyone of prominence. That is why we got on so well. He felt he had the police in his pocket, idiot that he is."

The gun fell off Joachim's jawbone and was now pointed across his chest at Monika's head. Berg could possibly save his son, but it would most likely kill his daughter. He'd have to be patient. "I see."

"Rolf Schoennacht is a bully, Inspektor . . . a very disturbed man. Once I bring official charges against him for the murders of Marlena and Regina, the public will have no problem believing the two other murders were from his hand as well. They will want to believe it, I think."

Roddewig was right about that. The citizens of Munich demanded answers. The problem was that any answer would suffice. If the police blamed Anton Gross for the murder of his wife, then Anton Gross was the murderer. If the politicians claimed the monster was Rolf Schoennacht, then it was Rolf Schoennacht. Honesty was a virtue, but if the truth was not easily found, a scapegoat would do. Such was the national mentality: a people too proud to admit defeat, too haughty to assign rightful blame.

It was always someone else's fault.

Roddewig was talking. ". . . be regarded as a hero, as the one who has solved these terrible crimes and restored order to our city. I will be the one who has brought a murderer to justice. The politicians will flock to kiss my feet, the selfsame politicians who have lost regard for Herr Direktor Brummer because he failed to keep order at Hitler's latest rally. Did you know that he is being asked to resign?"

"And you will be the logical one to take his place."

"Just as you predicted this afternoon. I must admit, Berg, that you are a very clever man."

Predicted this afternoon?

How could Roddewig know what I said this afternoon . . . to Georg?

Unless . . . ?

How could he?

Seeing the utter dismay on Berg's face, Roddewig laughed out loud. "It's a very sad state when strong alliances just can't be trusted."

The betrayal was too much to fathom. Berg had worked with Muller for almost two years. They ate together, they drank together, they had even stolen money together. Their wives knew each other. Their children played together. Berg even knew the whores Georg frequented. How could Muller have perpetrated such an act of disloyalty . . . such treason?

Roddewig smiled. "Muller has always had ambitious designs, but unfortunately he is very lazy. Did you know that he was quite put out when Volker assigned you to head the Mordkommission? Of course, it was the proper choice, but that doesn't mean he accepted it. After all, he is five years your senior, and he is Bavarian and you are not. He came to me in secret, asking me how he could get promoted. I told him what he had to do for me, and we struck a deal. He was getting impatient, but then these murders came up. This entire episode was very fortuitous. With you gone and Storf incapacitated, he will be first in line for promotion."

Berg was numbed by Roddewig's words.

How could this be true?

But of course, Roddewig's invasion into Berg's home bespoke the absolute truth. Again Berg heard a single click of the doorknob, followed by the very soft creak of the door opening. It snapped him back to the present, to how stupid and foolish he was for nursing betrayal when the lives of his family were at stake.

Keep talking. Don't let him hear what I hear.

"So . . ." Berg cleared his throat. "Georg told you everything."

"He phoned the station-house emergency line the moment you were out the door. It was fortunate that it took you some time to come to the truth. If he had still been in traction, he would not have been able to get to the telephone so easily. Now he can sit up in a wheelchair."

Keep him talking.

"So tell me, Kommandant, exactly how close was I to the actual truth?"

"You were wrong about the murder of Regina Gottlieb."

"I know that now, but what about the others? What about Anna Gross? The child was yours, of course."

"I don't know if it was mine, but it certainly wasn't from the Jew." Another smile. No more tic. He was perfectly comfortable. "The odd thing is, Berg, murder was not originally on my mind. Marlena had always given me money. She thought I was a good Schwabing Soviet who was using it to promote Kommunismus in Munich. I had intended to use some of it to provide Anna with an abortion."

"But Anna refused."

"Yes."

"She threatened to tell Marlena."

"She did tell Marlena, the bitch."

"So there went your money."

"The bitch!" Roddewig repeated. "It was only after I proposed marriage that Marlena calmed down."

"But you couldn't marry her."

"I couldn't marry anyone. I was playing the role of Kommunist count to several ladies. If Marlena or Anna had found out about my position in the police department, all my funds would have been cut off."

"So you had to murder her."

"I didn't want to, but . . ." Roddewig blinked several times. "I told Marlena I was planning a major Kommunist rally in Munich and needed a lot of money to finance it properly. I told her that if all went as planned, Munich would be in revolt, and then we'd be married."

"She believed you."

"I am from the Soviet Union. I can recite the Kommunist Manifesto verbatim. Why shouldn't she believe me?"

"You met her at her boardinghouse. You took most of the money but left some behind for the police to find. Then you killed her."

Roddewig's eyes glazed over. "I was not assigned to battle during the Great War, Berg."

"You didn't miss anything."

"On the contrary, I felt like an outsider. My idiot father used his considerable sway and money to ensure me a desk job. So unlike most of my Kameraden, I had never killed anyone before. I was surprised by how easily it can be done." Roddewig paused. "I have this rare gift, Berg, to kill and not to feel. Keeping the money and murdering Anna seemed like a much smarter thing to do than giving this stupid girl an abortion. And things would have died down if Rolf hadn't mucked it up by murdering that Jew bitch."

"And that's when you decided to blame both Regina and Marlena on Rolf."

"Precisely."

"Then why go after Edith Mayrhofer and her innocent daughter?"

Roddewig's eyes narrowed. "The appetite for Lustmord is very strong, Berg. You don't know until you've tasted it."

"I think I would find it repellent, sir."

"Thanks to God, most of your fellow beings feel as you do. Otherwise the women of the world would all end up dead."

"But why the child?"

"Because she was there." Roddewig stared at Berg with dead eyes. "No, Edith wasn't my first Lustmord." The barrel of the Mauser was now aimed under Britta's chin. "Nor will she be the last." A hand on her face. "But this one won't be blamed on Schoennacht." He started drooling with anticipation. "I've got it precisely planned, Berg."

Again Berg heard the door creak. "Tell me how, sir."

"Do you really want to know?"

"I am a curious fellow."

"That is true." Again his eyes narrowed. "Muller has been telling me how obsessed you've been with the murders. With your mistress dead, you had no place to go for relief. You had to depend on your wife. When she refused your advances . . . well, that was too much."

Berg nodded. "Ah . . . I see."

"No, you don't see everything. So I will tell you. First, you had your way with her. . . ." Roddewig began to stroke Britta's face. She was so quiet, so brave.

Berg's eyes dared to engage hers.

I'm so sorry, darling, so very sorry.

Tears rolled down her cheeks.

Roddewig went on. "The police will find proof that you forced yourself on her."

Another creak.

"You forced yourself on her with your children watching. They begged you to stop."

Now there was silence.

"Then . . . under the strain of what you had done to your own wife . . . you couldn't face her . . . you couldn't face your children. You simply snapped."

The door flew open with a gust of wind.

Instantly, Berg sprang up and slammed his family to the ground, shielding them with his body as the cross fire of bullets hummed over their heads. Instincts from his soldier days had taken over.

He remembered to duck.

FIFTY.

Roddewig had fallen backward, two holes in his chest, one in his face.

Martin Volker was unscathed. "That's the problem with those who have no combat experience." He picked up the Kommandant's guns and stowed them in his coat. "They don't know how to cover themselves, and they shoot like girls."

One by one, Berg brought his family to their feet. He hugged his children. To Britta he said, "Take them in the bedroom and shut the door." He kissed her cheek, hugging her while whispering, "Hide under the bed. Don't come out for anything." Aloud he said, "Go."

"I want to stay with you, Papa," Joachim said.

"You can't stay with him," Britta answered angrily.

Berg took his son's face and looked into his eyes. "It won't be more than a few minutes. Besides, you have to take care of your mother and sister." He kissed his forehead. "Always take care of your mother and sister."

"Why?" Tears were trailing down the boy's cheeks. "What are you going to do?"

"I'm losing patience," Volker told him.

Britta grabbed the children and disappeared into the bedroom. Several seconds passed, then Berg heard furniture being moved. They were barricading themselves in.

Berg regarded the Kommissar. "How did you know the Kommandant was here?"

"No great deductive feat." Volker held Roddewig's Mauser in his hand. "I overheard Muller talking on the telephone, actually shouting into the mouthpiece. The static on the line must have been terrible. I'm surprised at you, Axel. You didn't notice the motorcar parked across the street?"

"I did."

"How many people in your neighborhood own a motorcar?"

Again Berg cursed his stupidity. "How long have you known about Muller?"