‘We still on for tonight?’

Fabel grinned. ‘You bet.’

‘I’ll meet you there at eight.’

He watched her walk up the steps to the lobby of her apartment building, admiring the sleek curves of her body. She turned and waved at the door and he waved back. He sat for a moment after the door closed behind her, then took out his cell phone and called Werner at home. When Werner answered, Fabel thought he could hear children in the background. Werner’s eldest daughter, Nadja, had made Werner a grandfather twice over. Fabel apologised for disturbing him on a Saturday.

‘No problem. What’s up, Jan?’

Fabel told Werner about his interview with Michaela Palmer. He included the description she had given of the eyes of the man at the club. Fabel deliberately did not stress this element: he wanted to see if Werner’s reaction matched his own. When Werner fell silent for a moment, Fabel guessed that he was indeed thinking the same.

‘Our guy from last night? Mr Anglo-Saxon cool?’

‘Could be. Maybe we should go back and see him.’

‘Careful, Jan,’ said Werner, ‘you don’t want to spook him. MacSwain’s under round-the-clock close surveillance. If he puts a foot wrong we’ll have him. But the fact that he buys books and has green eyes is flimsy stuff to re-examine him on. We were on pretty thin ice before. If he went to his lawyer and complained about harassment, I don’t think that our evidential trail would stand up to scrutiny.’

‘You’re right, Werner,’ said Fabel. ‘But phone around the team … and send Van Heiden an e-mail … I’d like a case conference first thing Monday.’

‘What about Dr Eckhardt? Shall I contact her as well?’

‘That’s okay, Werner, I’ve got that covered.’

Werner laughed at the other end of the phone. ‘I bet you have, Chef. I bet you have.’