Shit, thought Anna, what now? If he goes I can’t follow him, and I can’t stay with him for the rest of the night. Think.

‘I’ll be here Friday night … if you want to buy me another,’ she said without turning to face him. ‘About eight-thirty.’ She turned. Maybe Friday was too long-term for MacSwain’s agenda; maybe she should have said tomorrow night. But if Fabel were to go for this spontaneous idea, they would need time to assemble a plan and backup team.

MacSwain hit her again with a smile. ‘I’ll be here. But I’m here now …’

‘Sorry,’ said Anna. ‘Got things to do tonight.’

‘Eight-thirty Friday it is then.’

He didn’t show any signs of moving. Anna drained her drink too fast and it burned all the way down. Again she didn’t let it register on her face.

‘See you then.’

She could feel MacSwain’s eyes on her as she walked away, giving Paul a look as she passed. Paul read the signal as ‘You’re on your own.’ He stood up and walked over to the steel rail that bounded the dance floor, passing close to Anna without looking at her and allowing her to palm the car keys he passed to her.

Anna sat cramped in the car for two hours before she saw MacSwain walking back towards the Spielbudenplatz Parkhaus. He had a girl with him, a tall, attractive blonde who leaned into him and giggled or kissed him every few steps.

‘Ahhh …’ Anna said to herself, ‘so you’re cheating on me already …’

She saw Paul some distance behind them. There were quite a few night owls out on Spielbudenplatz and Paul was keeping a few of them between himself and his target. Anna slunk down into her car seat as MacSwain and his trophy passed by on the other side and went into the Parkhaus. Paul dropped into the passenger seat.

‘What do you reckon? Should I go in on foot and keep an eye on him?’

‘No. We might lose them on the way out. We have to make sure his date makes it home.’

Paul laughed bitterly. ‘Well, that all turned to crap. Your cover’s blown completely.’

‘I wouldn’t say it was a complete wash-out,’ replied Anna with a self-satisfied smile. ‘After all, I got a date out of it …’

Wednesday 18 June, 11.00 a.m. Polizeipräsidium, Hamburg.

Fabel’s eyes were shadowed and sunken into his skull. The only other evidence of the attack was the bronze and purple bruise on the side of his neck and the stiffness with which he moved his head, tending to shift his shoulders in whichever direction he wanted to look in. After being discharged at eight-thirty that morning, he had gone home to shower off the taint of the hospital and change his clothes. He had spent the last hour reading through the file on Klugmann and Kramer’s covert operation.