“Frau Mendler has a long police record. She was afraid to come to us. Last night she told her boyfriend what had happened, and this morning they decided to call us.”
They had reached the Wannsee. The car pulled up a block away from the entrance to the Gassner estate, behind an unmarked sedan. A man got out of the sedan and hurried toward Major Wageman and Max. “He’s still inside the house, Major. I have men all around the grounds.”
“Do you know if the woman is still alive?”
The man hesitated. “No, sir. All the blinds are drawn.”
“All right. Let’s make it fast and quiet. Get everyone in place. Five minutes.”
The man hurried off. Major Wageman reached into the car and pulled out a small walkie-talkie. He began rapidly to issue orders. Max was not listening. He was thinking of something that Major Wageman had said to him a few minutes ago. Something that made no sense. But there was no time to ask him about it now. Men were starting to move toward the house, using trees and shrubs as cover. Major Wage-man turned to Max. “Coming, Hornung?”
It seemed to Max that there was an army of men infiltrating the garden. Some of them were supplied with telescopic rifles and armored vests; others carried snubnosed tear gas rifles. The operation was carried out with mathematical precision. At a signal from Captain Wageman, tear gas grenades were simultaneously hurled through the downstairs and upstairs windows of the house and at the same instant the front and rear doors were smashed in by men wearing gas masks. Behind them came more detectives with drawn guns.
When Max and Major Wageman ran through the open front door, the hallway was filled with acrid smoke, but it was rapidly being dispersed by the open windows and doors. Two detectives were bringing Walther Gassner into the hallway in handcuffs. He was wearing a robe and pajamas and he was unshaven and his face looked gaunt and his eyes swollen.
Max stared at him, seeing him for the first time in person. Somehow he seemed unreal to Max. It was the other Walther Gassner who was real, the man in the computer, whose life had been spelled out in digits. Which was the shadow and which was the substance?
Major Wageman said, “You’re under arrest, Herr Gassner. Where is your wife?”
Walther Gassner said hoarsely, “She’s not here. She’s gone! I—”
Upstairs there was the sound of a door being forced open, and a moment later a detective called down, “I’ve found her. She was locked in her room.”
The detective appeared on the staircase, supporting a trembling Anna Gassner. Her hair was stringy and her face was streaked and blotchy, and she was sobbing.
“Oh, thank God,” she said. “Thank God you’ve come!”
Gently the detective led her downstairs toward the group standing in the enormous reception hall. When Anna Gassner looked up and saw her husband, she began to scream.
“It’s all right, Frau Gassner,” Major Wageman said soothingly. “He can’t harm you anymore.”
“My children,” she cried. “He killed my children!”
Max was watching Walther Gassner’s face. He was staring at his wife with an expression of utter hopelessness. He looked broken and lifeless.
“Anna,” he whispered. “Oh, Anna.”
Major Wageman said, “You have the right to remain silent or to ask for a lawyer. For your own sake I hope you will cooperate with us.”
Walther was not listening. “Why did you have to call them, Anna?” he pleaded. “Why? Weren’t we happy together.”
“The children are dead,” Anna Gassner shrieked. “They’re dead.”
Major Wageman looked at Walther Gassner and asked, “Is that true?”
Walther nodded, and his eyes looked old and defeated. “Yes…They’re dead.”
“Murderer! Murderer!” his wife was shrieking.
Major Wageman said, “We would like you to show us the bodies. Will you do that?”
Walther Gassner was crying now, the tears rolling down his cheeks. He could not speak.
Major Wageman said, “Where are they?”
It was Max who answered. “The children are buried in Saint Paul’s graveyard.”
Everyone in the room turned to stare at him. “They died at birth five years ago,” Max explained.