He spotted the narrow opening on the right just in time to turn, though he had no opportunity to signal. He was concentrating too hard to notice the VW that swerved hastily into the turning behind him, Rado Matic at the wheel. The lane was almost a tunnel, with high hedges looming on either side, and Rado hung well back. After about a quarter of a mile, it opened out on to a wharf where half a dozen laden Rhineships were moored three deep.

Tony parked the car and climbed out again into the downpour, oblivious to the VW that carried on past his parking spot and disappeared behind a dilapidated building beyond. He scuttled across to the edge of the wharf where he could see the names of the first three boats across their sterns. No Wilhelmina Rosen. He ran down the quayside and checked the other three barges. No luck again. Back at the car, he called Marijke on his mobile. ‘You can cross number seven off the list,’ he said wearily as soon as she picked up the phone.

‘I’m sorry, Tony,’ she said. ‘You’ve been wasting your time.’

‘It had to be done.’

‘No, listen, you have been wasting your time. I got one of my boys to phone the bigger canal basins in the area, the ones where you have to pay fees. And he just came up with a location for the Wilhelmina Rosen.’

‘You’re kidding?’

‘No, it’s right. The Wilhelmina Rosen is tied up in the Marina Widenfeld. It’s on the Mosel, on the left bank, just outside Koblenz.’

‘Where’s that?’ he asked, shuffling through the large-scale local maps till he found a regional one.

‘Back the way you came from Bonn, down the Rhine to where it joins the Mosel. I think it’s maybe an hour or so, to look at the map here.’

‘Fine,’ he groaned. ‘Just about long enough to dry off before I have to get wet all over again.’

‘Good luck,’ she said. ‘You won’t approach him, will you?’

‘No. I’ll just watch. I promise.’ He hung up and started the engine. To his amazement, the rain suddenly stopped as he emerged from the lane on to the main road. Tony smiled. ‘That’s better,’ he said. ‘If it’s not raining, I can walk past and tell you what a beautiful boat you have. Hang on to your hat, Geronimo, I’m coming.’

Petra glared at Hanna Plesch across her desk. ‘You agreed it would make sense to co-ordinate this with Carol Jordan’s sting in Rotterdam. That’s not going to happen for a couple of days yet. If we put pressure on Radecki and Krasic now, they might call the Dutch trip off, and we could lose the chance to roll up their whole network.’