Morgan knelt down by Tony and started massaging his legs. ‘It’s a bastard, but it passes quickly,’ he said.

Then Tony thought he was hallucinating. He heard Carol’s voice, riven with concern. ‘Tony? Tony, are you OK?’ He struggled to roll on to his back, but his arms had no strength. Gently, Morgan grasped his shoulders and turned him towards the door.

Petra jumped to her feet, astonishment on her face as she registered the arrival of Carol and Marijke. ‘What the fuck are you two doing here?’ she said, half-laughing, half-crying.

Carol ignored her, making for Tony like a pigeon for home. Gandle stepped into her path. ‘DCI Jordan?’ he said uncertainly, putting a hand on her arm.

‘Take your fucking hands off me,’ she snarled, brushing past him and continuing on her way. Unconscious of her own injuries, she knelt on the floor beside Tony, cradling his head against her breast. ‘I’m so sorry,’ she choked. ‘I’m so sorry.’

Words were beyond him. He simply clung to her. There they stayed, oblivious to the hubbub around them as paramedics and police swarmed into the building. They were impervious to everything until Radecki’s voice cut through the clamour in a roar. ‘You think you’ve won, bitch?’ Suddenly there was silence. ‘I might be going to jail, but compared to you, I’m free. You’ll never be free of me.’

Chapter 39

39

Petra let herself into her apartment and closed the door quietly behind her. It was early evening, but she didn’t want to risk waking Tony if he’d managed to fall asleep. He’d been staying in her apartment at her insistence ever since his discharge from hospital. They’d kept him in for a single night, out of concern about possible hypothermia rather than his acute injuries. Three broken ribs, two broken fingers and a shattered cheekbone weren’t enough to justify occupying a hospital bed, the doctor had firmly told Petra when she had protested against so swift a release. ‘He’ll probably need some reconstructive surgery on his cheek, but that’ll have to wait for a while,’ he’d said.

So Petra had brought him back to her place. She didn’t think he was fit to be left alone, and he didn’t want to return home until Wilhelm Mann had been arrested. Now his involvement in the case was out in the open, his profile had been shared with the German police teams investigating the murders. She knew, because he’d told her, that he’d been taking phone calls from the officers in Heidelberg, Bremen and Köln, but he’d said little about their content, merely that they seemed to be taking his analysis seriously. In truth, he’d not said much about anything, spending long hours staring into space, apparently oblivious to Petra’s presence.