I shrugged. ‘That depends. Maybe we can figure out a story: crime of passion, or something like that. I’ve got friends down at the Alex. Perhaps I can get you a deal, but first you’ve got to help me. There was a woman working with me - tall, brown hair, well-built, and wearing a black coat. Now there’s some blood on the kitchen floor that’s got me worried about her, especially as she seems to be missing. I don’t suppose you would know anything about that, would you?’

Eva snorted with laughter. ‘Go to hell,’ said Haupthandler.

‘On the other hand,’ I said, deciding to scare them a little. ‘Premeditated murder, well, that’s a capital crime. Almost certain when there’s a lot of money involved. I saw a man beheaded once - at Lake Ploetzen Prison. Goelpl, the state executioner, even wears white gloves and a tail-coat to do the job. That’s rather a nice touch, don’t you think?’

‘Drop the gun, if you don’t mind, Herr Gunther.’ The voice in the doorway was patient, but patronizing, as if addressing a naughty child. But I did as I was told. I knew better than to argue with a machine pistol, and a brief glance at his boxing-glove of a face told me that he wouldn’t hesitate to kill me if I so much as told a bad joke. As he came into the room, two other men, both carrying lighters, followed.

‘Come on,’ said the man with the machine pistol. ‘On your feet, you two.’ Eva helped Haupthandler to stand. ‘And face the wall. You too, Gunther.’

The wallpaper was cheap flock. A bit too dark and sombre for my taste. I stared hard at it for several minutes while I waited to be searched.

‘If you know who I am, then you know I’m a private investigator. These two are wanted for murder.’

I didn’t see the India Rubber so much as hear it sweep through the air towards my head. In the split second before I hit the floor and lost consciousness I told myself that I was getting tired of being knocked out.

Chapter 16

16

Glockenspiel and big bass drum. What was that tune again? Little Anna of Tharau is the One I Love? No, not so much a tune as a number 5 1 tram to the Schonhauser Allee Depot. The bell clanged and the car shook as we raced through Schillerstrasse, Pankow, Breite Strasse. The giant Olympic bell in the great clock-tower tolling to the opening and closing of the Games. Herr Starter Miller’s pistol, and the crowd yelling as Joe Louis sprinted up towards me and then put me on the deck for the second time in the round. A four-engined Junkers monoplane roaring through the night skies to Croydon taking my scrambled brains away with it. I heard myself say:

‘Just drop me off at Lake Ploetzen.’