By Bernhard Schlink
The bestselling detective novel from the writer of THE READER. to be had in paperback for the 1st time within the UK.
Sixty-eight years previous; a smoker of candy Aftons, a committed drinker of Aviateur cocktails, and the landlord of a charismatic cat named rapid, Gerhard Self is an unconventional deepest detective.
When Self is summoned by means of his long-time buddy and rival Korten to enquire numerous incidents of computer-hacking at a chemical compounds corporation, he reveals himself facing an unusual form of crime that throws up many demanding situations. yet in his look for the hacker, Self stumbles upon whatever way more sinister. His research finally finds darkish secrets and techniques which were hidden for many years, and forces Self to confront his personal demons.
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Additional resources for Self's Punishment: A Mystery
Sample text
I pondered whether any of my friends understood computers, and noticed how old I was. There was an ornithologist, a surgeon, a chess grandmaster, the odd legal eagle or two, all gentlemen of advanced years to whom the computer was, as for me, a terra incognita. I reflected on what sort of person it is who can work with, and likes, computers, and about the perpetrator of my case – that it was a single perpetrator was becoming pretty clear. Belated schoolboy’s tricks? A gambler, a puzzle-lover, a joker, pulling the leg of the RCW in grand style?
The war was over in five weeks for me. A wound that got me home. Three months later they’d patched me together again, and I completed my legal clerkship. In 1942, when Korten started at the Rhineland Chemical Works in Ludwigshafen and I began at the public prosecutor’s office in Heidelberg, we shared a hotel room for a few weeks before we found our own apartments. The year 1945 saw the end of my career as a prosecutor in Heidelberg, and he was the one who got me the first cases in the financial world.
Doctor Self, may I introduce you to our Frau Buchendorff? ’ I turned around. There stood a tall, slim woman of about thirty. She wore her dark-blonde hair up, which lent her youthful face with its rounded cheeks and full lips an air of experienced competence. Her silk blouse was missing the top button, and the one below was open. Frau Schlemihl looked on disapprovingly. ’ Frau Buchendorff reached out her hand and looked at me squarely with her green eyes. I liked her gaze. Women only become beautiful when they look me in the eye.
