‘Just that he’s a part-time heavy for Ersin Ulugbay and a part-time pimp for himself. He’s strictly small time, but a nasty piece of work, by all accounts. He has a girlfriend … Sonja Brun, a dancer at the Paradies-Tanzbar. Used to be a hooker, working for Klugmann, but he took her off the streets. Love before business apparently.’

‘How do you know her?’

‘Elixir – you know, the hardcore magazine – they got me to do a couple of shoots about six months ago. Sonja was one of the girls. Nice kid … turned my stomach to see her do the kind of things I had to photograph. Anyway, Klugmann picked her up after the shoot. He was not a happy man – got a bit heavy with Sonja on the way out. It was after that that she came off the streets and stopped doing porn shoots.’

‘What about the Paradies-Tanzbar?’

‘Basically Klugmann’s the house heavy. The Paradies is an all-up-front, no-back-room operation. It makes money the usual way: fat, drunk businessmen up from Frankfurt or Stuttgart watching the acts on stage, too pissed to realise they’re being charged thirty euros for each glass of cheap wine. But there’s no screwing on the premises. Ulugbay bought the Paradies about a year ago, at a knockdown price, apparently. Then he moved Hoffknecht in to run it for him – which was like putting a vegetarian in charge of a butcher’s shop. Hoffknecht can be trusted to leave the girls alone. Apparently his taste runs more to eighteen-year-old boys. From what I can gather, Klugmann’s job is to keep troublemakers out and if any of the “patrons” kick up a fuss about paying extortionate prices, he helps explain the bill to them, if you know what I mean.’ Mahmoot paused, shook his head and gave a wry laugh. Then his face broke into its habitual broad smile. ‘Okay … I’ll sniff about and talk to Sonja. I’ll even chat up that old faggot, Arno Hoffknecht. I’ll see what I can turn up. No promises though.’

Fabel smiled. ‘Fair enough. Thanks, Mahmoot. Here’s the usual to cover expenses …’ Fabel took a swollen envelope from his inside pocket and handed it to Mahmoot who quickly slipped it into the pocket of his leather jacket.

‘There’s one other thing about the Ulugbay mob you should know if you don’t already …’

‘Oh, what?’

‘They’re under a bit of pressure. A lot of pressure in fact. There’s talk of a new Ukrainian outfit in town …’

‘I thought there was an ongoing turf war between the Turks and the Ukrainians anyway …’

‘Not any more. This new outfit has taken total control of all the existing Ukrainian gangs. The old gangs still exist and they still have their old bosses, but they pay “taxes” to the new outfit and they’re not allowed to fight among themselves or with the Turks. The rumour is that Yilmaz, Ulugbay’s cousin, has been forced to strike a deal with the new lot. There’s talk that Yilmaz is under pressure to speed up his plan to legitimise the Ulugbay business … retire, as it were, from illegal business. Apparently Ulugbay himself is very pissed off about it all.’