IT IS IN THE NATURE OF A WOMAN TO DECEIVE. THEY ARE BORN POISONED WITH GUILE AND FALSITY AND SPEND THEIR LIVES REFINING THEIR SKILLS AS LIARS AND DECEIVERS. IT IS POETIC, IS IT NOT, THAT THE SON OF SVEN WILL SPREAD THE WINGS OF THE DAUGHTER OF DAVID.

SON OF SVEN

Saturday 21 June, 10.00 p.m. Harvestehude, Hamburg.

Fabel had fought to keep the team within the boundaries of urgency without crossing over into outright panic. The meaning in the e-mail had been crystal clear. The Daughter of David. The deception she had attempted on MacSwain. He was going after Anna. Maria had tried to get Anna on the phone. No reply. Fabel ordered a team to go round immediately to Anna’s apartment in Eimsbüttel and force entry if necessary. In the meantime, Fabel led the assault on MacSwain’s home.

The surveillance officer outside MacSwain’s apartment block confirmed that the Briton had not come out since he returned at 5.56 p.m. There had been no obvious movement in the apartment other than the lights coming on at 7.30. The surveillance officer had even wandered over to check that MacSwain’s Porsche was still in its parking bay in the Tiefgarage. Fabel sent half the team, led by Maria, up the stairwell while he and Werner took the other half, plus the heavy door-ram, up in the brushed-steel elevator.

There was only one door in and out of the apartment. The only other way out was onto the balcony and the three-storey drop to the pavement outside. Two body-armoured MEK officers swung the metre-long door-ram between them, silently counting out the beats until, on the fourth swing, it slammed into the door and splintered the lock. MacSwain’s door flew inwards and the armed MEK team burst in, fanning the empty space of the apartment with their Heckler and Koch sub-machine pistols.

Fabel knew instantly that the apartment was empty. Within three or four minutes the team confirmed his feeling.

‘Fuck!’ said Werner. ‘How could this happen again?’

‘Because we were looking the other way,’ said Fabel. ‘I should have listened to Anna and kept a full surveillance team on the bastard.’

At the mention of her name the two officers exchanged a knowing, almost frightened look. ‘Chase up the team and see if they’ve found Anna.’

Werner snapped open his cell phone.

‘Chef … come and see this …’ Maria beckoned him over to a small box room, more a large storage cupboard, off the main living area. MacSwain had managed to squeeze a small computer table and chair into the tiny space. The walls were covered with photographs, cuttings and handwritten notes. Two ceiling spotlights illuminated the mural displays, as if they were some kind of museum exhibit. The focus was a carved wooden mask. It was a close replica of the carving Fabel had seen in the book that Otto had given him. The book that MacSwain had too. The bearded mouth was twisted in a berserker’s snarl, the one eye hole shadowed black by the angle at which the spotlights cast their beams.