Hanne began to spend more time in the apartment, stopping by most evenings. By the end of the second week, with his beard making good progress, he felt emboldened to ask her some questions.

‘Do you live nearby?’

‘You want to know where I live?’

‘Well, yes.’

‘You have no idea?’

‘No, how could I know?’

‘Go over to the window and have a peek through the curtain.’ She waited until he was there. ‘What can you see?’

‘The courtyard and more of these apartment blocks.’

‘And what’s the apartment block directly opposite this one?’

‘B, I think it is. Yes, B…’

‘You’re telling me you’ve never watched me leave to see where I go?’

‘No, you tell me to stay away from the window.’

He returned to sit opposite her. She lit a cigarette and one for him. ‘I live in block B. My apartment faces this one, though I’m two floors below you, on the sixth floor. This apartment belongs to my father. He’s in a home now, and that’s where he’ll remain, but I’ve told people he may return here, which gives me an excuse to keep the flat on. It also gives me an excuse to keep popping over, to check everything is all right. I rented a flat in the block opposite so I could keep an eye on him.’

‘And Weston doesn’t mind you using this place?’

‘He just said find a good safe house, and as far as I’m concerned, this is a good safe house. The only other apartment on this floor is empty too: the couple who live there spend all their time in the country. They only come back for a few days in the summer. So this really is ideal.’

At the weekend, Hanne spent most of Sunday in the apartment. They had lunch and then spent a long afternoon talking about their police work, both genuinely interested in what the other had done. Prince mentioned how he had at one stage been responsible for keeping an eye on political extremists in his area.

‘Another coincidence! When was that?’

‘Around 1938, 1939.’

‘I was involved with political extremists in 1934. There was a group of students at Aarhus University who’d broken away from one of the traditional nationalist clubs and set up what was basically a Nazi cell. The local police were concerned enough to want to infiltrate the group, but middle-aged policemen tend not to make very convincing students. I was younger and a woman, and no one there knew me, so I enrolled at the university and managed to infiltrate the group. They were very hard-line, a really nasty bunch. I know we Danes have a reputation as decent people, but I can tell you our Nazis are as bad as the German ones; it’s just fortunate there are so few of them.’

‘So what happened?’