‘Hooker?’

‘Looks like it, although she isn’t … wasn’t anyone Davidwache vice knew about.’ Anna’s face was pale beneath the shock of dark hair. Fabel noticed she was making an effort not to look in the direction of the devastated corpse. ‘But we do know the guy who called in.’

‘Oh yes?’

‘A guy called Klugmann. He’s ex-Polizei Hamburg.’

‘An ex-cop?’

‘In fact he’s an ex-Mobiles Einsatz Kommando officer. He claims that he was a friend … he has the lease on the flat.’

‘“Claims”?’

‘The local boys reckon he must have been her pimp.’ It was Paul who answered.

‘Whoa, hold on …’ Fabel’s impatient expression implied he held Paul responsible for his confusion. ‘You said this guy is a former Mobiles Einsatz Kommando member and now he’s a pimp?’

‘We think he may well be. He worked with the MEK special-operations unit attached to the Organised Crime Division, but he was kicked out.’

‘Why?’

‘Apparently he developed a taste for the goods.’ It was Anna Wolff who answered. ‘He was caught with a small amount of cocaine and sacked. He was charged and got off with a suspended sentence. The Staatsanwalt prosecutor was cagey about sending an MEK member to prison and anyway it was only a few grams of coke … personal use, he claimed.’

‘You seem to know the story pretty well.’

Anna laughed. ‘While Paul and I were waiting for you at Davidwache, we got the whole story from one of the guys there. Klugmann was involved in a couple of raids in St Pauli. Typical surprise attacks on Turkish Mafia drugs factories by MEK special units. Both times the premises were as clean as a whistle – they’d obviously been tipped off. Because they were joint operations with Davidwache KriPo, the MEK tried to pin the blame on Davidwache for being loose with security. After Klugmann was busted it all fitted together.’

‘He bought his drugs with something other than cash?’

‘That’s what they reckon. The MEK tried to prove he’d been passing information on to the Ulugbay organisation but couldn’t come up with any hard evidence.’

‘So Klugmann got off with a slap on the wrist.’

‘Yes. And now he works in an Ulugbay-owned stripclub.’

Fabel smiled. ‘And as a pimp.’

‘Like I say, that’s what the local police suspect … and more.’

‘I can imagine,’ said Fabel. A former special-forces policeman would be incredibly valuable to Ulugbay: muscle and inside information. ‘Should we look at him as a suspect for this?’

‘He needs checking out but no, I doubt it. Apparently, he was in genuine shock when the local uniforms got here. We talked to him briefly at Davidwache. He’s a tough-looking son of a bitch but he clearly hadn’t worked out a credible story. Just kept saying he was a friend and had called around to see her.’

‘Do we have a name for her?’

‘That’s the thing,’ Paul answered. ‘I’m afraid we have a mystery woman on our hands. Klugmann says he’s only ever known her as “Monique”.’