‘S’pose not.’

‘It’s an odd career move,’ said Werner, ‘from an elite police unit to the Turkish Mafia.’

‘I didn’t have much choice about my retirement from the police.’ Klugmann smiled cynically. ‘As you probably already know. Anyway, I don’t work for any “Mafia”. I know what Ulugbay’s into, but I’m not into it. Ulugbay may own the bar, but my boss is Arno Hoffknecht, the manager. It’s not much, I’m supposed to be an assistant manager but I’m really nothing more than a glorified bouncer. But I keep my nose clean.’

‘Really?’ said Werner. ‘Interesting choice of expression. I don’t know if your nose is really that clean.’

‘What d’you mean?’

‘When was your last line?’

The sinews on Klugmann’s thick neck tautened. ‘Fuck you, Arschloch.’

Werner’s eyes blazed and his huge frame seemed primed to explode into violence. Fabel took the initiative. ‘I hope you’re not going to prove uncooperative, Herr Klugmann. That could make things look worse for you.’

‘What do you mean “worse for me”? This has fuck-all to do with me. And you’ve got no proof otherwise …’

‘You’re holding something back.’

‘For instance?’

‘For instance, where is Monique’s appointment book?’

‘I don’t know what you’re talking about.’

‘Or the video camera that you had hidden behind the mirror? What was that about? Blackmail or just making porn?’

For an instant Klugmann seemed taken aback. ‘Look, I have absolutely no idea what you’re talking about. No fuckin’ idea at all.’

Fabel leaned back. Werner recognised the tag and leaned his bristle-haired bullet head forward, smiling. ‘I don’t like you, Klugmann …’

‘Oh really?’ Klugmann feigned hurt surprise. ‘And I was thinking maybe we had some kind of future together …’

‘I don’t like you because you’re a traitor and a crook. You crapped on this police service when you started selling your mouth to Ulugbay.’ Werner leaned back and twisted his face in contempt. ‘You stink. You smell of the fucking gutter, you live with a whore …’

Klugmann tensed and made a sudden movement forward.

Fabel held up his hand. ‘Easy …’

Werner continued, unfazed. ‘You live with a whore, you rented your home out to another whore so that she could be ripped apart by some fucking maniac, and you work in a cesspit for a Turkish godfather. What’s it like, Klugmann … what’s it like when you look in the mirror in the morning? For Christ’s sake you were a policeman – and, from what we can see of your record, a good one. You must have had ambition once. And now you’re …’ Werner gestured towards Klugmann, extending his arms as if he were holding something noxious at bay – ‘you’re this.’ He pushed his face even closer to Klugmann’s. ‘You are vermin, Klugmann. I don’t for one second think you’re beyond doing what was done to that girl. And I don’t for one second believe any of this line of crap you’re feeding us about not knowing anything about her except her first name.’