As he had sat down in front of the computer, Ansgar had told himself that he wouldn’t visit the website again. He had promised himself that the last time he had been on it. And the time before that. But his computer’s screen glowed malevolently, opening up a window on another reality for Ansgar. A way into abandonment and chaos.

Ansgar let his fingers hover above the keyboard. He could still walk away. He could switch off the computer. He struggled so hard to keep the chaos within himself contained. Karneval was coming. And during Karneval … well, everybody let themselves go. But this little screen was dangerous: it allowed the chaos within to connect with a greater, wider chaos. Ansgar realised that this didn’t satisfy his hunger. It sharpened it. Turned it ravenous.

His fingers trembled with delicious anticipation, disgust, fear. He typed in the website address and gave an anguished cry as the images opened out before him. The women. The flesh.

The biting teeth.

6.

The first thing that struck Fabel about Criminal Commissar Benni Scholz’s office was how untidy and disordered it was. The second thing was the large dummy head that sat in the corner. Fabel found himself looking at it involuntarily, as he tried to work out exactly what it was. He decided it was some kind of moose.

‘I cannot tell you how pleased I am that you could come,’ said Scholz, beaming as they shook hands. Scholz was about ten years younger than him, Fabel reckoned, and about ten centimetres shorter. But what Scholz lacked in height he made up for with a stocky, muscular frame. ‘I see you were admiring the bullhead for our Karneval outfit. I’m organising it this year.’

‘Oh …’ said Fabel, suddenly enlightened. ‘It’s a bull! I thought it was a moose …’

Scholz scowled at the dummy head and muttered something that Fabel couldn’t hear but thought might have been ‘Fuck.’ Scholz let his scowl go. ‘Please, Principal Chief Commissar, take a seat.’

‘Call me Jan,’ said Fabel. ‘We are colleagues.’ There was something about the ebullient Scholz that Fabel found immensely likeable. Fabel also resented him a little, in the same way that he resented his brother Lex for being so at ease with strangers, for being so laid back about life. It was then that it clicked what it was he liked about Scholz: he reminded him of a younger Lex.

‘Okay … Jan,’ said Scholz. ‘I’m Benni. Have you eaten?’

‘On the way down.’ Fabel’s expression commented on the quality of his repast.

‘Oh … okay. I thought I’d take you out to a typical Cologne restaurant tonight, if you’re up for it?’

‘Sure …’ said Fabel. ‘But maybe we should see how we get on going over this case …’

‘Oh, we’ll have time …’ Scholz made an expansive gesture. ‘It helps me to think. Eating, I mean. Can’t think on an empty stomach, I always say.’