‘You can’t … you simply cannot …’ His words tripped over each other in a rush of outrage. ‘This is intolerable. I will not have you talk to my client in that manner. It’s abusive …’

Eitel smiled knowingly and indicated to Waalkes to sit down, which he did. It was like watching a shepherd silently control his dog. ‘It’s all right, Wilfried. I think Herr Fabel is deliberately trying to upset us.’ With that, Eitel retook his seat. Markmann nodded for the two interrogating officers to leave, and he and Fabel took their places.

‘A change of team, I see,’ said Eitel. ‘I now warrant a more senior level of interrogator.’

‘Which, Herr Fabel,’ said Waalkes, ‘would suggest that you are becoming increasingly desperate to find some grounds to continue harassing my client.’ Another hand gesture from Eitel silenced Waalkes once more.

‘I do not intimidate easily,’ said Eitel, again tilting his head back and making the most of his superior height, even when seated. ‘At the end of the war they all tried their little techniques. The Americans were crude and obvious: they also made much use of insult and threat. The British were altogether more subtle and professional: unfailingly polite but unremitting and relentless. They made you feel respected, even admired, while they tried to get you to give them enough to hang you. As you can see, Fabel, neither succeeded.’

Fabel did not appear to have heard anything Eitel had said. He picked up the phone and dialled Maria’s extension number. When she answered, he asked for the FBI and other files to be brought down to the interview room. He then sat in silence. Waalkes opened his mouth to protest.

‘Shut up,’ said Fabel, quietly and without anger.

‘That’s it.’ Waalkes said and stood up again. ‘We’re leaving.’

‘Sit down!’ Eitel barked. ‘Don’t you see that Herr Fabel is trying to provoke some kind of incident?’

By the time Maria arrived with the files, the atmosphere in the quiet interview room was electric.

‘Maria,’ said Fabel cheerfully, ‘why don’t you sit in on this too?’

Maria pulled a chair over from the wall by the door and placed it at the end of the interview table. It was an invasion of neutral territory that made Waalkes tut and edge his chair sideways slightly, towards Eitel. Fabel could see that Waalkes’ relinquishment of a centimetre of territory infuriated his client.

‘Can we begin now?’ said Waalkes. ‘Or do you want to invite the rest of your department?’

Fabel ignored him. He took the file from Maria, opened it, and spoke without looking up. ‘Herr Eitel … you deal with what our American friends call the Odessa Mafia, don’t you?’

Waalkes moved to speak. Another hand movement from Eitel.

‘I have no contacts whatsoever with any type of Mafia, Herr Fabel.’ His voice was quiet and calm, but heavy with menace. ‘And I suggest that you be a little more careful in your accusations.’

‘You deal with John Sturchak?’