She allowed her gaze to return to MacSwain. His eyes were still fixed on her. The two blondes were engaged in a giggling conversation with each other. Shit, she thought, he’s sussed me. The corners of MacSwain’s lips curled in a knowing smile. All Anna could hope for was that if she slipped out of the picture, Paul could stay on him while she radioed up a new set of faces. She cursed silently to herself. They’d fucked up another surveillance. Fabel was lying in that hospital bed and when he got back to the Präsidium he’d discover she’d allowed MacSwain to eyeball her. The knowing smile on MacSwain’s face grew to a grin. Go on, you smart-assed bastard, thought Anna, rub it in. Then she realised: Shit, he hasn’t sussed me at all … the bastard’s hitting on me!

She smiled back. MacSwain said something to the two blondes and made an apologetic gesture; it was clear that they were not at all pleased and drifted off in search of less evasive prey. MacSwain took a few steps towards Anna and, without looking, she knew that Paul would have set himself on an intercept course. She stepped forward to the bar, wrong-footing MacSwain by passing him and leaning against the counter. She asked the bartender for a rye and dry. MacSwain turned back to the bar and smiled.

‘May I get this for you?’

‘Why?’ Anna responded in a cool, unimpressed tone. Over MacSwain’s shoulder she could see Paul approaching. She made the most subtle movement of her eyes which Paul read instantly, turning to conceal himself once again in the foliage of designer clubwear.

‘Because I’d like to.’

Anna shrugged and MacSwain paid when the drink arrived. She tried to make her movements relaxed, almost careless, but her brain was running on overload, playing catch-up with the situation. Surveillance had turned into undercover. And she hadn’t been prepared for that. All she had for backup was the tenuous line of sight that Paul maintained on her and, for all she knew, MacSwain could be the madman who was ripping women apart for kicks. Focus, Anna, she told herself. Keep breathing slow and easy. Don’t let him spot you’re scared. She sipped the bourbon and ginger ale.

‘I’ve never seen you here before,’ MacSwain said.

Anna turned to him, her face mocking. ‘Is that the best you can do?’

‘It was a genuine statement. I make conversation, I don’t do chat-up lines.’ As he spoke, Anna detected the hint of a foreign accent for the first time. His German was perfect, if a little stiff, and the accent was only just discernible under layers of learning.

‘You a foreigner?’ she asked bluntly.

MacSwain laughed. ‘Does it show that much?’

‘Yes, it does,’ said Anna, taking another sip of her drink.

You didn’t like that, did you? she thought. MacSwain clearly wasn’t used to women not hanging on his every word. His expression relaxed into one of resigned politeness.

‘Enjoy your drink,’ he said, ‘I’m sorry to have bothered you.’ And he started to walk away.