‘Maybe,’ I said, and then: ‘One thing I can’t figure is you going straight, especially when you end up working here. How much do you make a week?’

Bock shrugged. ‘About forty marks.’ He caught the quiet surprise in my face. It was even less than I had supposed. ‘Not much, is it?’

‘So what’s the deal? Why aren’t you breaking heads for Red Dieter?’

‘Who says I ever did?’

‘You went inside for beating up steel pickets, didn’t you?’

‘That was a mistake. I needed the money.’

‘Who was paying it?’

‘Red.’

‘And what was in it for him?’

‘Money, same as me. Just more of it. His sort never gets caught. I worked that one out in the cement. The worst of it is that now that I’ve decided to go straight it seems like the rest of the country has decided to go bent. I go to prison and when I come out I find that the stupid bastards have elected a bunch of gangsters. How do you like that?’

‘Well, don’t blame me, friend, I voted for the Social Democrats. Did you ever find out who was paying Red to break the steel strikes? Hear any names maybe?’

He shrugged. ‘The bosses, I suppose. Doesn’t take a detective to work that one out. But I never heard any names.’

‘But it was definitely organized.’

‘Oh yes, it was organized all right. What’s more it worked. They went back, didn’t they?’

‘And you went to prison.’

‘I got caught. Never have been very lucky. You turning up here is proof of that.’

I took out my wallet and thumbed a fifty at him. He opened his mouth to thank me.

‘Skip it.’ I got to my feet and made for the hut door. Turning round, I said, ‘Was your Kurt the type of puzzler to leave a nut he’d cracked open?’

Bock folded the fifty and shook his head. ‘Nobody was ever tidier round a job than Kurt Mutschmann.’

I nodded. ‘That’s what I thought.’

‘You’re going to have quite an eye in the morning,’ said Inge. She took hold of my chin and turned my head to get a better look at the bruise on my cheekbone. ‘You’d better let me put something on that.’ She went into the bathroom. We had stopped off at my apartment on our way back from Brandenburg. I heard her run the tap for a while, and when she returned she pressed a cold flannel to my face. As she stood there I felt her breath caress my ear, and I inhaled deeply of the haze of perfume in which she moved.

‘This might help to stop the swelling,’ she said.

‘Thanks. A jaw-whistler looks bad for business. On the other hand, maybe they’ll just think that I’m the determined type - you know, the kind who never lets up on a case.’