‘And what if he is our guy?’ said Paul. ‘You could be the next victim.’

Fabel looked at the little-girl face behind the make-up, the small, defiant frame and felt a lurch of unease in his gut. ‘I don’t like it, Anna. I don’t want you in any jeopardy … but I’ll consider it.’

Paul Lindemann made a sound as if he’d tasted something noxious and threw his pen onto his desk. Fabel ignored him, but decided that, if Anna didn’t choose Paul herself, he would insist on him leading the back-up team: Paul would place Anna’s safety above his own life.

‘I want you to draw up an operational outline and have it on my desk today,’ continued Fabel. ‘And if it’s not watertight, we’re not going ahead. And, Anna, I want you to wear a wire. I want the back-up team to know everything that’s going on.’

‘Aw …’ Anna made a disappointed face. ‘You trying to cramp my style?’ Then, when she saw her joke was not appreciated: ‘Anything you say, Chef.’

Fabel felt a band tighten around his head. The stark strip lighting in the Mordkommission office seemed to sting his eyes. He checked his watch: it was nearly half past noon; it would be another hour before he could take his next set of painkillers.

‘What do we have on Angelika Blüm?’ Fabel massaged his temples as he spoke. ‘Do we know anything more about her?’

‘I’ve got a full breakdown of her work history,’ said Werner. ‘There are a couple of interesting things that have been flagged up. You know that exhibition in Bremen?’

Fabel nodded, intrigued at what possible link there could be.

‘Well, Marlies Menzel, before she graduated to a career planting bombs in the Alsterarkaden, worked as a journalist and satirical cartoonist on a left-wing magazine called Zeitgeist. Angelika Blüm was also on the magazine. Her boyfriend at the time was the editor.’

‘Were Menzel and Blüm friends?’

‘That I don’t know yet. I was hoping you and I could interview Blüm’s former boyfriend to find out.’

‘You hardly need me along to do that,’ said Fabel, puzzled.

‘Oh I think I do.’ The rugged topography of Werner’s features shifted slightly to make room for a wry smile. ‘In fact, I wouldn’t be surprised if Kriminaldirektor Van Heiden wanted to come along.’

‘Why?’

‘Angelika Blüm’s lover at the time … and for four years in total … was a young left-wing lawyer and journalist with political ambitions. His name was Hans Schreiber.’

Fabel stared at Werner. ‘Not the Hans Schreiber. Not the Erste Bürgermeister?’

‘One and the same.’

Fabel raised his eyebrows. ‘What else have you got?’

‘Blüm had a good friend who works for NDR Radio. Erika Kessler. I talked to her on the phone. A bit prickly but very upset about Blüm’s death. She seems to know something, but not much, about what Blüm was working on. I’ve fixed up a meeting with her too.’

‘Anything on the guy who attacked me at Blüm’s flat?’