‘There’s more,’ Petra continued. ‘There’s been another murder in Bremen. I pulled the files on it because it reminded me of the case in Heidelberg. The MO is identical.’

Plesch raised her eyebrows. ‘The same weird, fucked-up bastard?’

‘Looks like it. So what do we do?’

Plesch shrugged. ‘We get on to Heidelberg. It looks like that’s Case Zero. They probably haven’t read their Europol bulletin out there in the sticks. They’ll have to liaise with this Dutch cop through Europol. And talk to the people in Bremen.’ She blew a breath out through pursed lips. ‘Rather them than me. What a nightmare. All that red tape and diplomacy.’

‘Couldn’t we keep hold of it?’ Petra asked.

‘On what basis? It’s not organized crime, it’s not our remit.’

‘We made the connection. We’re experts in intelligence analysis. We’re used to working with Europol.’

‘You’re kidding me, right? As if you haven’t got enough on your plate with Radecki. Come on, Petra, this isn’t our kind of thing, and you know it. Let me call the chief investigator on the case in Heidelberg and set the ball rolling. You’ve done a good job, spotting this. But you’ve got to let it go now.’

Before Petra could argue further, the door burst open without ceremony and The Shark stood there, pink-faced and bright-eyed. ‘Sorry to butt in, ma’am,’ he gabbled. ‘But this case that Petra showed me the bulletin about – something’s just come in on the wire. It looks like there’s another one. Only in Köln this time.’

Chapter 26

26

Petra had been right about the boat, Carol thought. This was no rich man’s party toy. It was a wooden motor launch, perfectly proportioned, with a sloping roofed cabin amidships. Tadeusz told her he’d bought it as a virtual wreck because he’d fallen in love with its sleek clinker-built lines. He’d had it restored to its former glory, and now it was an immaculate museum piece that was as functional as when it had been built in the 1930s. Gleaming brasswork and polished mahogany caught the light wherever Carol looked in the small cabin. No space was wasted; the three-sided bench had slots for the table to drop into it, making a narrow double bed. The bulkheads had stowage space built in, using every nook and cranny without adversely affecting the elegant proportions of the compartment.

Above and behind the cabin, a tall, morose man leaned on the wheel, waiting for the word from Tadeusz to cast off. ‘He doesn’t speak more than two words of English,’ Tadeusz had said as he helped her aboard. ‘He’s a Pole, like me. We’re the best sailors in the world, you know.’

‘I think we English might want to dispute that,’ Carol said.