‘There are quite a few of those …’

MacSwain brushed away Anna’s comment with a sweep of his hand. ‘Heimat. The concept of a place, a time and a people to which you belong. It lies somewhere between the concepts of home and homeland.’

Anna nodded vaguely. It was a word she associated with parochialism and narrow-mindedness; with the bland, politically bleached and mannered films that had been made in Germany in the period after the Second World War: a time when any sense of Germanness seemed inappropriate or even in bad taste.

‘There are relationships that you find and forge in life that give you that inner feeling of Heimat, of belonging. Except it is not necessarily anchored in one place. Whenever you meet – wherever in the world you meet again – you are at home.’ The intensity melted from MacSwain’s eyes. He shrugged and took another sip of his coffee. ‘That’s why my father is no longer a figure in my landscape, other than as an incidental character. I have learned that there are much more significant bonds between people than mere genetics. Anyway … enough about me …’

He moved over to the couch. Anna was forced to move to make room for him. He drew close and moved his face towards hers. Once again Anna took in his almost perfectly handsome features and was amazed at the lurch of disgust in her gut as he put his lips to hers. She eased back from him and smiled.

‘Time we set sail for shore, skipper,’ she said, hoping her jocularity didn’t sound as hollow outwardly as it did inwardly.

MacSwain smiled dryly and sighed. ‘Sure …’

MacSwain had been polite and courteous but perceptibly cool on the return to the jetty. Anna felt a surge of energy and relief as the lights of shore drew closer. She declined MacSwain’s invitation of a lift home, claiming her car was parked near the nightclub; he insisted on dropping her there instead. Paul Lindemann and the surveillance team had withdrawn from sight as MacSwain had pulled into his berth, picking up the trail again on the way back to the nightclub.

‘Here’ll be fine …’ said Anna as they pulled up outside the nightclub.

Again, MacSwain smiled a polite smile. ‘Where’s your car?’ he asked.

Anna made a vague gesture with her hand. ‘Around the corner.’ She took a small notepad from her clutch handbag and noted down the number of the cell phone she’d been allocated for the operation. ‘Listen … I don’t think I’ve been the best company tonight … Give me a call and we can arrange something some other time.’

‘I was beginning to think you didn’t like me, Sara. You seemed … well, uneasy or something.’

Anna leaned across and gave MacSwain a lingering kiss on the lips. She withdrew and smiled. ‘I told you … I’m not good on boats. That’s all. Call me.’ She opened the Porsche’s door and swung her legs out. ‘Next time let’s make it on solid ground …’