‘You’re not in trouble, are you?’ Neumann’s face adopted a phlegmatic expression.

‘I owe some people some flea, that’s all.’

‘How much?’

‘Couple of hundred.’

‘So you’re going to Karlshorst to try and win some of it, is that it?’

He shrugged. ‘And what if I am?’ He put out his cigarette and searched his pockets for another. ‘You got a nail? I’ve run out.’ I tossed a packet across the table.

‘Keep it,’ I said, lighting us both. ‘A couple of hundred, eh? You know, I just might be able to help you out there. Maybe even leave you some on top. That is, if I get the right information.’

Neumann raised his eyebrows. ‘What sort of information?’

I drew on my cigarette, and held it deep within my lungs. ‘The name of a puzzler. A first class professional nutcracker who might have done a job about a week ago; stolen some bells.’

He pursed his lips and shook his head slowly. ‘I haven’t heard anything, Herr Gunther.’

‘Well, if you do, make sure you let me know.’

‘On the other hand,’ he said, lowering his voice, ‘I could tell you something that would put you well in with the Gestapo.’

‘What’s that?’

‘I know where a Jewish U-Boat is hiding out.’ He smiled smugly.

‘Neumann, you know I’m not interested in that crap.’ But as I spoke, I thought of Frau Heine, my client, and her son. ‘Hold on a moment,’ I said. ‘What’s the Jew’s name?’ Neumann gave me a name, and grinned, a disgusting sight. His was an order of life not much higher than the calcareous sponge. I pointed my finger squarely at his nose. ‘If I get to hear that U-Boat’s been pulled in, I won’t have to know who informed on him. I promise you, Neumann, I’ll come round and tear your fucking eyelids off.’

‘What’s it to you?’ he whined. ‘Since when have you been the knight in Goldberg armour?’

‘His mother is a client of mine. Before you forget you ever heard about him, I want the address where he is so I can tell her.’

‘All right, all right. But that’s got to be worth something, hasn’t it?’ I took out my wallet and gave him a twenty. Then I wrote down the address that Neumann gave me.

‘You’d disgust a dung-beetle,’ I said. ‘Now, what about this nutcracker?’

He frowned exasperatedly at me. ‘Look, I said I didn’t have anything.’

‘You’re a liar.’

‘Honest, Herr Gunther, I don’t know nothing. If I did, I’d tell you. I need the money, don’t I?’ He swallowed hard and wiped the sweat from his brow with a public health-hazard of a handkerchief. Avoiding my eyes, he stubbed out his cigarette, which was only half-smoked.