On the way out Fabel nodded to the two Financial and Corporate Crime detectives who rejoined Markmann in the interview room.

‘We’re clutching at straws, Chef,’ said Maria.

‘You’re right,’ Fabel said grimly. ‘Let’s try Eitel number two.’

This time, when Fabel stepped into the interview room, he did so without speaking, taking a place leaning against the rear wall. Maria stood next to him. The intention was to signal that he was an observer and not a participant in the interview, but also to disquieten Norbert Eitel. After all, why would a murder-squad officer be interested in a fraud inquiry?

Another lawyer and another expensive suit sat next to Norbert Eitel. The two Corporate Crime Kommissars were going through a copy of the transaction sheet. After about ten minutes, Fabel moved over to one of the officers and whispered in his ear. The policeman nodded and they swapped positions with Fabel and Maria.

‘Thanks guys …’ said Fabel. ‘This won’t take long.’

Norbert made an expression of patient indulgence as Fabel once again asked about the connection with the Sturchaks. This time, however, Fabel failed to ignite anything other than an irritated impatience in Norbert.

‘This is getting nowhere,’ said Norbert’s counsel. And Fabel couldn’t help but agree. He had absolutely nothing on either father or son that could lever out information about Vitrenko. Fabel got to his feet and nodded to the two fraud officers that they could resume their questioning. It was at that point that Norbert Eitel smelled victory. He dropped his disinterested tone and stood up, his face contorted with a mixture of hatred and contempt. He jabbed Fabel in the chest with the index finger of his left hand.

‘I am going to ruin you, Fabel,’ Norbert spoke through tight teeth. ‘You are not going to get away with this.’

He jabbed Fabel in the chest again, giving an extra push as if dismissing something worthless. Fabel’s hand shot up and seized Norbert’s wrist.

‘Keep your hands to yourself.’

Norbert tried to wrench his hand away but Fabel held it fast. He looked down at it and was about to throw it back into Norbert’s chest. Instead he froze. Fabel stared blankly at Norbert’s now clenched fist and Norbert tried to wrench it free again. Again it merely wobbled from side to side in a mini arm-wrestling tussle. Fabel’s grip tightened around Norbert’s wrist, turning the captured fist an angry red. Fabel looked up from the fist and into Norbert’s eyes. He smiled. Coldly and malevolently.

‘I’ve got you,’ said Fabel and his voice was filled with a quiet, bitter triumph. ‘Now I’ve got you.’

Norbert Eitel’s eyes searched Fabel’s face for some sort of meaning. Fabel allowed himself one more look. There, on the back of Norbert Eitel’s left hand. A scar. Or more like two scars that coincided to form a slightly distorted wishbone shape. Just as Michaela Palmer had described it.

Fabel managed to force the grin from his face before he swung open the door of interview room number one. He didn’t enter but merely leaned in. Wolfgang Eitel, Waalkes and the two corporate-crime officers stopped their exchange and all turned to the door, as if caught in the headlights of an oncoming vehicle.