There he is – the man with the beard. But he doesn’t look at all like before, not nearly so driven and focused. On the contrary, he seems drunk or sick, and he’s leaning against the hood of his car, searching for her while struggling to take out his phone.

George’s pills have had the desired effect after all; the man is too inebriated to follow her. He’s fumbling with his phone now. Is he about to call a colleague? She’d better hurry before they find a replacement.

Then she sees another figure crossing the street, headed for the man. George. She turns around completely. George is there now and grabs the man’s hand, the one holding the phone. The last thing she sees before turning right onto Avenue Louise is George pulling the phone out of his hand, and then shoving him so he’s lying over the hood of the car.

‘Damn it,’ she mutters and starts to jog back down the street, back towards George and whatever bullshit he’s up to.

‘Seriously!’ she cries as she approaches. ‘What are you up to?’

George is just a dozen metres away and he turns to her with astonishment. He raises his arm and makes a shooing movement, while he’s staring down the street. ‘Get out of here,’ he hisses. ‘There could be more of them, for fuck’s sake.’

But Klara doesn’t listen. ‘What the hell, George?’ she says. She’s in front of him now, looking at him with equal parts irritation and frustration. ‘What are you planning to do?’

The man who was following her turns towards her, his face lost and confused. He opens his mouth to say something, but closes it again. George pushes him back into his car, and he falls onto the wheel with his eyes closed.

‘I’m trying to find out who these guys are,’ he says. Triumphantly, he holds up a small, old phone.

‘What are you gonna do with that?’ she says, pulling him by the shoulder, away from the car, back towards his door.

‘I haven’t thought through every detail,’ he says.

‘Quelle surprise.’

They’re at his door now, and Klara enters before George, heading up towards his apartment. ‘Why did you come back?’ he complains. ‘The plan was for you to get away.’

‘That was before you started mugging people,’ she mutters. She turns to him and gives him an annoyed look. ‘And his buddies call him, what do you do then?’

George’s eyes dart back and forth, struck by the holes in his plan. ‘I’ll figure it out,’ he says. ‘Just thought we might be able to use the phone. See who he is. His contacts.’

Klara shakes her head. ‘You asked him for the password too, right?’ she says.

She opens the door to the apartment and enters the living room, sits down on the sofa. ‘Give me that,’ she says.