Standing outside the front door, my nose caught the smell of cooking meat, pork I thought, and suddenly I realized how hungry I was; and how tired. I wanted to be at home, or seeing some easy, brainless show with Inge. I wanted to be anywhere other than confronting the flint-faced brunette who opened the door to me. She wiped her mottled pink hands on her grubby apron and eyed me suspiciously.

‘Frau Buverts?’ I said, using her new married name, and almost hoping she wasn’t.

‘Yes,’ she said crisply. ‘And who might you be? Not that I need to ask. You’ve got bull stapled to each dumb ear. So I’ll tell you once, and then you can clear off. I haven’t seen him in more than eighteen months. And if you should find him, then tell him not to come after me. He’s as welcome here as a Jew’s prick up Goering’s arse. And that goes for you, too.’

It’s the small manifestations of ordinary good humour and common courtesy that make the job so worthwhile.

Later that night, between 11 and 1 1.30, there was a loud knock at my front door. I hadn’t had a drink, but the sleep I’d been having was deep enough to make me feel as if I had. I walked unsteadily into the hall, where the faint chalky outline of Walther Kolb’s body on the floor brought me out of my sleepy stupor and prompted me to go back and get my spare gun. There was another knock, louder this time, followed by a man’s voice.

‘Hey, Gunther, it’s me, Rienacker. Come on, open up, I want to talk to you.’

‘I’m still aching from our last little chat.’

‘Aw, you’re not still sore about that, are you?’

‘I’m fine about it. But as far as my neck is concerned, you’re strictly persona non grata. Especially at this time of night.’

‘Hey, no hard feelings, Gunther,’ said Rienacker. ‘Look, this is important. There’s money in it.’ There was a long pause, and when Rienacker spoke again, there was an edge of irritation in his bass voice. ‘Come on, Gunther, open up, will you? What the fuck are you so scared of? If I was arresting you, I’d have busted the door down by now.’ There was some truth in that, I thought, so I opened the door, revealing his massive figure. He glanced coolly at the gun in my hand, and nodded as if admitting that for the moment I still had an advantage.

‘You weren’t expecting me, then,’ he said drily.

‘Oh, I knew it was you all right, Rienacker. I heard your knuckles dragging on the stairs.’

He snorted a laugh that was mainly tobacco smoke. Then he said: ‘Get dressed, we’re going for a ride. And better leave the hammer.’

I hesitated. ‘What’s the matter?’