‘Probably not today, but I can have someone make a search.’ Before Tony could respond, the fax phone rang. Dr Wertheimer crossed the room and watched as the paper spewed out. ‘It looks as if your colleague has been successful,’ she said. ‘It’ll take a while for everything to be printed out. Would you like to take a tour of the castle while you wait?’

He shook his head. ‘I don’t feel much like a tourist experience right now.’

Dr Wertheimer nodded. ‘I quite understand. We have a cafeteria in the main courtyard. Perhaps you would like to wait there, and I’ll bring the material to you?’

Three hours later, he was back on the road, a thick bundle of papers in a padded envelope next to him. He wasn’t looking forward to reading the contents. But, with luck, it might take them a small step closer to a killer.

The wind tumbled Carol’s hair and dredged the stale city air from the depths of her lungs. She could imagine how easily Caroline Jackson might have succumbed to the delights of being whisked off into the spring sunshine in a BMW ragtop roadster. What woman wouldn’t? But although part of her was enjoying the sensation of racing down an autobahn at a speed far in excess of anything she could legitimately have experienced in the UK, there was nothing unalloyed about her reactions. Carol was subsumed in Caroline, but she knew who was firmly in control.

Tadeusz had called for her at half past ten, having phoned to instruct her to dress warmly but casually while teasingly refusing to tell her why. When she’d emerged on the street to find him at the wheel of a black Z8 with the top down, he’d taken one look at the thin jacket covering her sweater and pursed his lips. ‘I was afraid of this,’ he said, going round to the boot. He produced a heavy sheepskin bomber jacket and handed it to her. ‘This should fit you, I think.’

Carol took the coat gingerly. It wasn’t new. There were creases at the elbow that proved that. She took off her own jacket and slipped her arms into the sleeves of the sheepskin. He was right. It fit as snugly as anything in her own wardrobe. She detected the faint musk of a heavy perfume she would never have worn. She looked up at Tadeusz with a wry smile. ‘Was this Katerina’s?’ she asked.

‘You don’t mind?’ he said anxiously.

‘As long as you don’t.’ Carol hid her unease with a smile. There was something unnervingly creepy about wearing Katerina’s clothes. It felt as if somewhere in Radecki’s head, the boundaries were starting to blur. And that almost certainly spelled danger for her in one way or another.