Giddy with naked spite, Dorn happily took a sip of what would be the best cup of black coffee in a long time, flavored with schadenfreude. After several ups and downs these past stressful few weeks, he finally could enjoy his favorite drink in peace again without the thought of a certain journalist crossing his mind with worry.
When Gessler entered his small office with the usual smug grin plastered onto his lips, the hot beverage tasted even sweeter. Soon that sneer of his would vanish.
"Please take a seat, Gessler." Henning motioned to the chair opposite of him behind the desk.
The journalist sat down, legs crossed. Like he had promised and without hesitation, he pulled out a file out of his black briefcase and shoved it with one single finger across the table.
Dorn sighed and picked up the folder. "I assume that is the result of your research."
"Ja."
The policeman flipped through the pages to skim over well documented details about the two Rhine cases and how the police department not only withheld information, but also failed to investigate a missing person case properly. Figures like Schneider and Kühn were mentioned casually, but most of the blame was put on the policeman himself and his superior Eckert.
One thing was for sure: The solid amount of sensible intel would certainly cause immense reputation damage once it got released to the public.
And yet, Henning wasn't fazed in the slightest.
Dorn dropped the file on the table, shrugging in contentment. Gessler only arched his eyebrows.
"Too bad for you I did my homework as well, Gessler."
The moment he had been waiting for finally arrived. With as much power as he could, Henning slammed his own file on the table – his so called "proof of Gessler's doom".
"But I have to commend you. That report of yours was the first one in your life that has absolutely no forged evidence or was exaggerated to the point beyond realism." Dorn clapped his hands. "Nicht schlecht."
'Not bad' – probably the best compliment one could receive from a very stern German, even though in this case it was meant in the language Dorn happened to speak fluently: sarcasm.
Slightly concerned, Gessler picked up the policeman's file.
"I am certain this is nothing more than a bluff." He opened the file and began reading. "After all, I haven't done anything that would cause harm to my caree-"
His voice caught in his throat. Henning could see how Christian's expression became gradually more horrified each time his eyes danced from left to right.
Henning leaned forward, his chin resting on top of his intertwined fingers. Behind them, he hid his smug grin.
"Got you."
Eyes widened, Gessler looked up. He opened his mouth to speak, but no words came out.
"What did you expect? That I do nothing and simply wait until you walk into my office to display your arrogance, just because you came across another scandal your career can thrive on? I think you forgot you started an argument with a policeman."
Like a little boy, the journalist pouted. "I thought you were an easy target ..."
Now Dorn was rendered speechless. The audacity. That jerk should be frightened at the possibility to be banned from his line of work and here he was, sulking he lost a battle he had provoked.
Henning contemplated whether his opposite was just presumptuous or plain stupid.
The policeman sighed heavily. "I'll ignore that last remark for now. You're lucky I'm gracious enough to make you an offer, so your reputation won't get ruined."
Surprised, the auburn-eyed male raised both eyebrows. "And that would be?"
"I want you to tell me everything you know and how you acquired that knowledge. Down to the smallest detail – even the information you might still keep from me," Dorn continued in a serious tone, "In return the police department is willing to overlook your ... mistakes, as long as you swear to not pull any of them again in the future."
Few moments of silence passed. He could literally see how the cogs in his opponent's brain turned as if he was balancing the pros and the cons. The journalist narrowed his eyes in suspicion.
"This is a deal I can't really reject, can I?" he asked.
"You can. Just have fun in jail then."
As ready as ever, Dorn pulled out a pair of shackles from his nearby drawer.
"Wait!" Christian Gessler threw his hands in the air in defense. "Okay, deal! Deal! I'll tell you everything I know!"
The policeman stowed the metallic pair away with a chuckle. One warning of imprisonment and even a man's highest ego would falter at its mere mention. Easiest interrogation of his life.
"I'm listening."
"I actually witnessed the turmoil at the Rhine site that day in April," Christian began to confess, head hung low, "At first, I didn't think much of it, until it was briefly mentioned in the news that a woman was found on the police department's doorstep. I recognized her features and a few days later I came back and tried impressing that salvage team's boss with a crate of beer to get more information."
"I have a hard time picturing you drinking beer, let alone with a man like Dieter Kühn. How'd that Bitburger taste?"
Indignant, Gessler lifted a finger and wagged it in the air to object.
"I beg of you, Dorn. Of course I don't drink beer. I drank wine! What kind of man do you think I am?"
Judging by his red attire, Dorn wasn't surprised to hear he was the type to indulge in wine rather than beer. Going by that logic, cherry must have been his favorite fruit.
"To be honest, I don't think about you at all. I'd like to keep things that bother me out of my mind." Henning shrugged.
"You don't have to be so harsh ..." Gessler looked a bit insulted, as if he just became aware of his own insignificance in the scheme of it all.
Dorn tended to matters more important than his rival's feelings.
"So that explains you knowing about the first salvage. Honestly, judging Kühn, I'm not surprised he told you everything he knew as soon as a bottle of beer was involved. What about the second one? My only guess is Schneider tattletailed."
Suddenly, the journalist fell quiet and avoided eye contact. Dorn furrowed his brows. It wasn't her? Then who ...?
"Gessler," the policeman warned, glaring. He'd force the answers out of him if needed.
Christian feigned great interest at the floor. "It's a bit complicated."
"Stop beating around the bush and tell me already." Henning pointed at the file in front of him. "Or do you want a copy of this to be released to the public?"
The journalist's auburn eyes quickly shot upwards. A brief moment of panic flashed across them and when Dorn mouthed the word 'jail' his opposite decided to spill the beans in an instant.
"Truth be told, I got a clue from someone."
Dorn rolled his eyes. "From who?"
"... Ich weiß es nicht."
Both of Dorn's hands banged on the table. It was a move he once saw Eckert do when he had dealt with a conceited prosecutor, but seeing his opponent on the other end of the table flinch at the suddenness of his action definitely let the policeman understand its appeal. Doing that more often when interrogating someone would surely put a good amount of pressure on a suspect, considering it worked on even the most self-opinionated men like the one in front of him.
"What do you mean 'you don't know'?" he interrogated.
Hastily, Christian threw up his hands.
"It was an anonymous hint. No name, no address. Only a letter delivered to my mailbox. Nothing more, nothing less."
Dorn leaned back in his chair. Great. Another mystery to uncover. As if he didn't have enough things on his mind to get to the bottom to.
"Any clue who it could have been? Did you see anyone?" he asked, even though he was sure he already knew the answer.
Gessler's lips twitched. "I'm kind of famous as of late. It could have been anyone at this point."
Exhausted, Dorn rubbed the side of his temple with index and middle finger. "If you try to lie to protect someone -"
"I'm not lying." The answer came as quickly as a shot being fired. For a second, it left the policeman dumbfounded.
On one hand, the journalist's answer seemed sincere, but on the other hand it was Christian Gessler, whom Henning had exposed to be a lying fraud. It was questionable if said note even existed.
Dorn sighed. "I'm not the one who will decide if you tell the truth or not. Surely my superior will know how to proceed with you from now on."
His fingers tapped on the journalists document's surface.
"Before I forget: Your folder also accuses us of failing to search for a person who went missing. How is that correlated to everything else?"
Gessler crossed his arms. "Actually, the wife of said husband approached me and asked me to call the department's inactivity out. I couldn't decline a desperate woman's plea and I figured including the police's inability to work properly would boost my credibility."
Even though he wasn't responsible for said case, Dorn briefly remembered the reports. A search had indeed been conducted, but no trace of the man was ever found. It was as if he had melted into thin air. With very little evidence to go on, the case was given less priority and eventually, it had grown cold and it would probably stay that way.
"... We'll stay in contact, Gessler."
𝕹 𝕴 𝖃𝕰 𝕿 𝕺 𝕽 𝕰 𝕿𝕰𝖄
When Henning collapsed into his bed sheets that evening and threatened to doze off, he became aware of a realization that would let him sleep peacefully again.
Christian Gessler had officially been taken care of. He no longer posed to be a threat to his investigation.
No more nights would be spent excessively worrying or scrambling for clues into the late hours. No more starting his work day more tired than needed. No more juggling between focusing on Gessler's interference and Fräulein's case.
It turned out even a clever mouse can intimidate a fox when the predator's not careful enough.