‘I have an officer out in the field,’ he explained. ‘And I can’t say I’m totally happy with the situation.’

‘Is it to do with the Son of Sven case?’

Fabel nodded. ‘At least, it could be. I’ve let a young woman officer allow herself to be used as bait.’

‘For Son of Sven?’ Susanne was genuinely shocked. ‘We’re dealing with a highly dangerous, unpredictable and intelligent psychotic. You’re right to be worried, Jan. I have to say I think it’s bordering on the irresponsible.’

‘Thanks for that,’ Fabel said, gloomily. ‘That makes me feel a lot better. But I’m not at all sure that this is our guy. Although he could well have something to do with the date-rape abductions.’

‘All I can say is I hope your officer can take care of herself.’

‘It’s Anna Wolff. She’s a hell of a lot tougher than she looks. In fact, she’s a hell of a lot tougher than most of us. And she’s got a full team backing her up.’

Susanne looked unconvinced. Her concerns spurred Fabel to phone Werner, who was monitoring radio traffic from the surveillance team. Nothing to report as yet. This was Fabel’s third call and Werner’s tone was that of a babysitter reassuring an overanxious parent. He told Fabel that Anna was in place and waiting for MacSwain to show, and reassured him once more that if there was anything significant happening then he would let Fabel know right away.

After their meal, Fabel and Susanne walked through the park and town to the waterfront and sat on one of the benches that looked out over the water. The sun was setting behind them and stretched their shadows out before them.

‘I’m sorry I’m not much company.’ He smiled weakly at Susanne, who leaned across and kissed him softly on the lips.

‘I know. It’s this case.’ She kissed him again. ‘Let’s go back to your place and get a little drunk.’

Fabel smiled. ‘Okay.’

They had just stood up when Fabel’s cell phone rang. Fabel snapped it open, expecting to hear Werner’s voice.

‘Jan … it’s Mahmoot.’

‘Christ, Mahmoot, where have you been? I was getting—’

Mahmoot cut Fabel off. ‘Jan, I need you to meet up with me now. It’s important and I don’t want to talk on the phone.’

‘Okay.’ Fabel looked at his watch and then at Susanne, making an apologetic gesture. ‘Where are you?’

Mahmoot gave an address in the Speicherstadt.

‘What on earth are you doing there?’ Fabel laughed. ‘Stocking up on coffee?’

Mahmoot’s usual good humour seemed to have deserted him. ‘Just get over here. Now.’

‘Okay, I’ll be there in ten minutes.’

‘And, Jan …’

‘Yes?’

‘Come alone.’

The line went dead. Fabel snapped his cell phone shut and stared at it. In all their dealings Fabel had never once compromised Mahmoot’s vital anonymity by bringing another officer along. Mahmoot could not have thought of a more redundant thing to say. The only way it made sense was if someone had told Mahmoot to say it: someone who wanted to make sure they got Fabel alone. He turned to Susanne.