‘I know,’ Anna replied. ‘I see that. But thanks for keeping an open mind on MacSwain.’

‘That’s okay.’ Fabel took in Anna’s face. She looked totally drained. Fabel had never been undercover but knew many officers who had. It was one of the most physically, emotionally and mentally exhausting challenges for a police officer to undertake. The image of Klugmann, sitting opposite him in the interview room at Davidwache, slipped to the front of his mind. He remembered attributing the red-rimmed eyes to drugs. But it had more probably been stress. And the traces of amphetamine found in his autopsy would have probably been Klugmann’s way of taking the edge off it. Now Fabel detected the same leaden edginess in Anna’s movements, the same red rims and dark shadows around the eyes. ‘Listen, Anna. I’ve made sure you’re clear of duties for the next twenty-four. Go home and get some sleep.’

Saturday 21 June, 10.00 a.m. Polizeipräsidium, Hamburg.

At least Fabel felt cleaner. A change of clothes had been like sloughing off a layer of crumpled skin; but the couple of hours’ sleep hadn’t dispelled the shadow of tiredness that still clung to him, and he had to make an effort to shake it from his movements and thoughts. As promised, Werner had picked up Wolfgang Eitel shortly before eight a.m. and a second team, led by Paul Lindemann, had brought in his son at the same time. Eitel father and son were being kept apart, but their furious threats of litigation against individual officers, the Polizei Hamburg and the state government had been almost identical. Fabel knew that if they didn’t turn up something solid on the Eitels, these threats would have to be taken very, very seriously indeed.

To underline the fact, a small cluster of legal types, including Waalkes, were waiting in the main waiting area of the Präsidium when Fabel arrived. Waalkes spotted Fabel just as he was about to step into the elevator and set off full steam towards him. Fabel called out an enthusiastic ‘Good morning, Herr Waalkes!’ as the elevator doors closed, Waalkes halfway across the reception area and halfway through an infuriated protest.

Fabel called Werner out of interview room one, where he had been stalling Wolfgang Eitel, who was demanding immediate access to counsel.

‘There are enough of them downstairs,’ said Fabel. ‘Tell him he’s entitled to one legal representative to be present, but let the Corporate and Financial boys soften him up first. Same deal with Norbert.’

Fabel went to his office and closed the door behind him. He picked up the phone and called Susanne at the Institut für Rechtsmedizin. He had phoned her after he left the Speicherstadt the night before and a strained cord of worry had been stretched through her voice. He had reassured her that he was fine but that he would have to head off to the Präsidium and that she should sleep. As he had hung up, he felt slightly guilty about the warm glow he experienced from having someone to worry about him again. Now he called her to give her a summary of the evidence he had uncovered and to outline his theory about Vitrenko and his ‘spiritual father’ Blot-Sven.