‘A promise is a promise,’ Tayte had told Jean as soon as they sat back in the taxi on their way there.
Tayte had also wanted to get away from the hospital as soon as he could, and Jean was in complete agreement that they had spent far too many hours there between them already that week. Tayte’s side was still understandably sore from his ordeal the day before, but the bullet Rudi had meant for Strobel had passed cleanly through him, an inch or so below his ribcage, thankfully missing his stomach. He had a few stitches to scratch at, and he would no doubt have the scars to look back on once everything had healed, but it was nothing more than a flesh wound.
‘And you’re sure my briefcase is okay?’ Tayte asked as they walked, sounding more concerned for his old friend than he had been for himself.
‘It’s absolutely fine,’ Jean said. ‘I told you, you can have it back when we leave for the airport. I want you all to myself until then.’
‘Okay, I’m all yours,’ Tayte said with a grin. ‘You know, I must thank Mr Goodbar next time I see him,’ he added, his grin widening. ‘I know I’m trying to cut down, but apart from that bar you bought for me on our first day in Munich, I’ve missed him this trip.’
‘Thank him for what?’
Tayte patted his stomach. ‘Well, if I didn’t literally have a soft spot for Hershey’s, particularly Mr Goodbar, I wouldn’t have built up this protective cushion around me. He might just have saved my life.’
Jean shook her head, laughing. ‘If you didn’t have your “protective cushion” in the first place, that bullet would have missed you altogether. Have you thought about that? And I suppose I didn’t have anything to do with it?’
Tayte paused while he pretended to think about it. ‘Well, maybe just a little,’ he said, teasing.
Jean gave him a playful slap. Then she put her arm around his waist and hugged him closer. ‘Well, I rather like you as you are, so I’ll say it for you. Thank you, Mr Goodbar!’
They both started laughing then, until they realised they were the only people making any sound in the otherwise reverently quiet hall.
‘So,’ Tayte said. ‘Now we’re away from that hospital for what I hope will be the last time, I think you have some explaining to do. How did you find me? I’ve been trying to work it out all night.’
‘The money,’ Jean said. ‘When I finally cleared the hospital, I picked up your message. I knew you’d left the record office and I tried to call you, but after several attempts I started to worry.’
‘How are you? I’m sorry, I should have asked sooner.’
‘I’m fine. There was some internal swelling, but it’s okay. They wanted to run another scan to be sure. Anyway, when I couldn’t reach you I went to see Tobias. It was mid-afternoon by then and he said he’d been expecting us.’
‘I called him earlier in the day. I said we’d drop by and lend a hand with the tidying up. He was trying to find a report he wanted to show us.’
‘Well, he’d already found it by the time I got there. After we told him Langner had had a child with Trudi Strobel, and that he’d paid her off for the child, he’d had his government contacts look into Langner’s business accounts.’
‘Tobias said he was keen to follow just about any new lead that came along.’
Jean nodded. ‘And it proved worthwhile. They found that Langner was still making payments to Trudi and her daughter. He’d set up an account in the name of a bogus art restoration company, so that without further examination it wouldn’t be obvious who was getting the money. There were several business accounts, but this one stood out because the sums of money being paid into it seemed disproportionately high for the services being paid for.’
‘And on closer inspection,’ Tayte offered, ‘they found the company registered to Trudi Strobel and Ingrid Keller?’
‘I don’t think it was quite as straightforward as that, but that’s the crux of it, yes. They found that the money was ultimately being drawn by Trudi and Ingrid. It wasn’t a bad setup either. I doubt it was even illegal. It went unnoticed for so long because, until we connected Langner to Trudi Strobel through her daughter, Ingrid, no one had cause to investigate the reputable art dealer Volker Strobel was posing as.’
They were halfway along the expansive hall when Tayte paused beside a piece of illuminated statuary and gazed up at the colourful frescos on the ceiling, glad to see that not everything so beautiful had been destroyed by the war.
‘So, what did you do with this information?’ he asked.
‘I went back to see Trudi Strobel.’
‘You did? How did that go?’
‘It was quite confrontational to begin with.’