‘I don’t believe it would have changed the outcome. They were marked, and had been for a long time.’

‘What will you do?’ said Ross.

‘Are you asking in your official capacity?’

‘What do you think?’

‘Then you know what I’m going to do,’ said Louis.

‘When do you leave?’

‘Tomorrow.’

‘I’ll be at the bar of the St. Regis in an hour. Meet me there.’

‘Why?’

‘Don’t be obtuse. It won’t benefit you.’

Ross hung up.

‘What did he want?’ said Angel, who had returned to filling his own case.

‘To talk. In person.’

‘Is he going to warn you off?’

Louis carefully folded another white shirt.

‘No,’ he said, ‘I think he wants to help.’

Before departing for the St. Regis, Louis contacted Charlie Parker, who had briefly met De Jaager, Paulus, and Anouk in Amsterdam earlier that year.

‘Do you want me to come with you?’ said Parker. ‘Because I will.’

‘No, or not yet. The offer is appreciated, though. I just thought you’d want to know.’

‘I’m grateful, and sorry, too.’

‘I know, but this isn’t on you or me.’

‘The Zemuns?’ said Parker.

‘Someone involved with them from way back. The Zemuns, it seems, are yesterday’s news.’

Louis told Parker about the imminent meeting with Ross.

‘It won’t hurt to hear what he has to say,’ said Parker.

‘You think he’s acting out of the goodness of his heart?’

‘Not exactly, unless he’s received a transplant. On the one hand, he did try to warn you.’

‘Yes.’

Parker heard the doubt in Louis’s voice, and couldn’t blame him for it. Louis was right to be cautious about Ross, not least because of Louis’s own past. It wasn’t clear how much Ross knew about it, but he knew enough. Killers and FBI agents made uneasy bedfellows, and Ross probably had the word ‘expediency’ embroidered and framed above his bed.

‘But on the other,’ said Parker, ‘it’s always an exchange with Ross. If he offers assistance, it’s because he sees an advantage that can be gained – and not just a favor he can call in down the line, but a direct benefit.’

‘Meaning?’

‘Meaning it may suit him to have you go after whoever did this.’

‘Well that’s okay,’ said Louis, ‘because it suits me too.’

The King Cole Bar at the St. Regis was quiet, with only a handful of people scattered amid the wood and brass. Ross was seated at the far end, drinking a dirty martini. Louis joined him and ordered the same. They did not exchange pleasantries, but Ross raised his glass, said ‘To De Jaager,’ and Louis did likewise.

‘I met him once,’ said Ross.

‘I didn’t know that.’

‘It was a long time ago, in Berlin, as we were witnessing the end of the Cold War – or the First Cold War, as I think we’re now obliged to call it.’