‘No. Even to this day I don’t know where I was. I was in shock for weeks, perhaps months. My father and I never discussed it. I remember just the one conversation with him about it, very soon after my brother died. He said the only way we’d survive was by getting on with our lives and by not looking back, which is what we did. I do remember it was around then that I decided to become a police officer. I must have thought in my grief that maybe I could prevent that kind of thing happening.’

‘I’m sorry. I understand how dreadful it must have been for you.’

‘Really? But that’s the thing, Peter. People say they understand, but they can’t. Unless you have been through something like that, you simply have no way of understanding.’

She moved further away from him. She’d spoken in an admonishing tone and looked annoyed. She’d clearly felt he was being intrusive.

‘But you see, I have been through something just like that. My wife and daughter were killed in a car crash two years ago. And I have a son who wasn’t with them. He’s three. So I do know how you feel.’

They both sat in silence, during which time it grew dark, the room lit only by the light from the hall.

There was no need for either of them to say anything, but they did move closer to each other again.

It was perhaps not the best way for Prince to prepare for his meeting with Agent Horatio the following morning.

They’d agreed that this time he should approach Otto Knudsen well away from Kongens Nytorv, the square where he stopped for breakfast and where Prince had been arrested. They knew that after leaving the café Knudsen would head west towards his office, walking for about ten minutes in the direction of the university.

Not too near Kongens Nytorv. Not too near his office. Nowhere near his apartment on Nyhavn.

It wasn’t going to be easy.

He decided to wait on Gothersgade, which was the road Hanne had said Knudsen was most likely to take after leaving the café. It was a busy road, full of cyclists and people hurrying to work. Prince felt self-conscious and kept stroking his beard: it was the first time he’d been out for weeks, he was close to the place where he’d been arrested and he was dressed as a ship worker. It was half past eight and he hoped he’d got his timings right. If he had, Knudsen should be walking past in less than five minutes.