The waiter arrived with Krasic’s order, temporarily silencing him. He took a mouthful of Jack Daniels while he wondered how to react. Had his boss finally lost it? ‘What do you mean?’ he stalled.

‘Exactly what I say. She could be Katerina’s twin. I nearly had a heart attack when she walked into my box last night. I thought I was seeing a ghost till she opened her mouth and this English voice came out. So you see, Darko, I can’t be responsible for making any decisions about whether we trust this woman or not. Because every time I look at her, my heart stops.’

‘Shit.’ Krasic poured the rest of his drink into his coffee and drained half of it in one. ‘You sure you’re not suffering from some kind of delusion?’

‘No. That’s why I arranged to see her again today, to confirm that I wasn’t dreaming. But it’s not just me she freaks out. I saw the way people’s heads were turning last night outside the Staatsoper and today at lunch. Like they couldn’t believe their eyes. It’s a complete mind fuck, Darko.’

‘So you want me to check her out?’

‘Till the pips squeak.’ Tadeusz reached into his inside pocket and drew out an envelope. ‘Inside here, there’s an Italian passport she gave me as proof that she can do the business. Also, her address in Berlin. I got the car to take her home last night. And I’ve made a note of everything I can remember that she told me about herself. I want you to find out all you can about her. Either this is the weirdest fucking coincidence or else there’s something very dangerous going on here. Find out which one it is, Darko.’

‘I’m on it already, boss.’ Krasic finished his drink and slid to the edge of the booth, gathering his coat as he went. ‘If she’s dodgy, we’ll nail her. Don’t you worry about it.’

Tadeusz nodded, satisfied. He watched Krasic leave, butting through the crowd like a bull with a destiny. Darko would sort it out. Either Caroline Jackson was up to something shady. Or else she was possibly, just possibly his salvation.

The Rhine was in spate. The skipper of the Wilhelmina Rosen stood on the massive steps of the Deutsches Eck monument at the confluence of the Rhine and the Mosel and glared at the racing brown flood tide, now closed to commercial traffic. If he was honest, he’d been expecting it. These days, it was a regular spring occurrence, not like in his youth. Global warming, he supposed. But it felt like another element in a giant conspiracy to thwart him.