He crawled snake-like, head down, out into the road on the far side of the jeep and went into a low crouch. The automatic pistol was in his hand now. He heard footsteps. Hard leather on asphalt. He ranged the barrel of the Walther, his finger about to pull the trigger the moment the man came to his side of the vehicle. He wouldn’t have time to negotiate.

A voice came from somewhere nearby. ‘Don’t shoot, Professor.’

Heck? Lieutenant Heck? What in the name of God was he doing here, and why was he shooting at him? ‘Drop your damned weapon, Heck.’

‘Take it easy. You’re OK.’

‘Throw it out. Throw the gun out where I can see it.’

Heck laughed. ‘I’m not the one firing at you. There’s a sniper on the roof. He fired, I took him out.’

‘Still, do as I say.’

The pistol slid along the ground towards Wilde. ‘OK, now step towards me.’

And then Wilde saw the crazy eyebrow, like a thick charcoal line across his brow. Heck was walking around the side of the jeep, arms up, grinning. ‘Happy now, Professor?’

‘What the hell are you doing here, Lieutenant Heck?’

‘Saving your life. But the question is: what are you doing here, Professor? No, save that for later. I want to check on our sniper.’ Heck picked up his pistol, put it into his pocket and began ascending a pile of rubble at the side of the Kabaret Lola building. At the top of the bricks and concrete, he managed to get a foothold on the downpipe that ran down the side of the dance hall, and shinned up to the top.

He saw the figure of a man at the edge of the flat roof and approached slowly, gun ready for the slightest threat. His eyes scanned the area around him; there was no sign of anyone else. The sniper lay stunned and unmoving on the parapet, head slumped across his hunting rifle. He had had a superb vantage point to take out anyone approaching the vehicles in the street below and it was difficult to see how he had missed Wilde. Either his rifle was badly calibrated, or Heck’s movement distracted him at the last second.

Heck pulled the man’s head back. In the silvery light a brutal crimson line seemed to indicate that his shot had cut a groove upwards through the front of the man’s skull, from just above the eyes, following the slope of the brow, but that it hadn’t passed into the brain. He was still alive, but dazed.