Lex had no special reason for calling. It was just brother reaching out to brother: a traffic, Fabel guiltily realised, that tended to be too much one-way. Hearing his brother’s voice filled Fabel with an urgent desire to escape Hamburg and spend weeks staring at the ever-changing ocean; to abandon his sharp tailoring and city grooming and loaf around, stubble-jawed, in sun-faded sweatshirt, jeans and deck shoes. The image was clear in his head, to return to his favoured refuge, but this time his imagination painted a companion: Susanne. He made the decision there and then: whenever this hideous case was over, he would ask Susanne to come with him to Sylt.

Before returning any of his calls, Fabel called Mahmoot’s cell phone. Mahmoot had been there with Fabel when he first met Vitrenko’s father in the Speicherstadt. Two out of the four people who had been present were now dead: Fabel had to reassure himself Mahmoot wasn’t the third. He breathed a small sigh of relief when he heard Mahmoot answer. Fabel told Mahmoot what had happened on his return to the warehouse and was surprised to notice that his hands trembled as he related the events to his friend. Mahmoot had been silent for a while.

‘Christ, Jan. I thought I lived in a dark world,’ he said eventually, ‘but yours scares the shit out of me. I can’t believe they’re dead. I can’t believe he did that to his own father.’ Mahmoot paused, as if thinking something through. ‘Listen, Jan, I’m going to drop out of sight for a while. Get out of Hamburg. I don’t know if this über-Viking sees me as a loose end or not, but I don’t want to end up as some kind of Nordic kebab. I’ll get in touch when I get back. But Jan, in the meantime, don’t look for me.’

‘I understand,’ said Fabel.

Mahmoot hung up.

He phoned Gabi. It was the usual short, cheerful exchange that he tended to have with his daughter. There was a shorthand between them that squeezed paragraphs of history and meaning into a few words. Fabel was worried that this case would still be consuming nearly all his time, but he wanted her to come. She told him not to worry if he had to work. Fabel’s time with Gabi was more precious than gold and he treasured every opportunity to be with her. The same economy they managed with words allowed them to condense a lot of value into a little time.

After he came off the phone, Fabel realised he hadn’t eaten. He went into the kitchen and fixed himself a salad and a too-strong black coffee. As he prepared the meal he started to dial Lex’s number but hung up before it connected, realising that Lex would probably still be busy in the kitchen or dining room. He phoned Susanne instead. She was horrified to hear about the events in the Speicherstadt and insisted on coming round right away. Fabel put her off, explaining that he was going to have to return to the Präsidium for a case conference. She was clearly upset and worried, but when Fabel mooted his idea of their taking time out together on Sylt, her voice lightened.