I nodded, satisfied, and leant back on the sofa, wondering what it would have been like to have had her after all. For the first time I noticed the yellowish discoloration of her hands which wasn’t nicotine, jaundice or her temperament, but a clue that she’d been working in a munitions factory. In the same way I’d once identified a body pulled out of the Landwehr. Another thing I had learned from Hans Illmann.

‘Hey, listen,’ said Helene, ‘if you get this bastard, make sure that he gets all the usual Gestapo hospitality, won’t you? Thumbscrews and rubber truncheons?’

‘Lady,’ I said, standing up, ‘you can depend on it. And thanks for helping.’

Helene stood up, her arms folded, and shrugged. ‘Yes, well, I was a schoolgirl myself once, you know what I mean?’

I glanced at Evona and smiled. ‘I know what you mean.’ I jerked my head at the bedrooms along the corridor. ‘When Don Juan’s concluded his investigations, tell him that I went to question the head-waiter at Peltzers. Then maybe I thought I’d talk to the manager at the Winter Garden and see what I could get out of him. After that I might just head back to the Alex and clean my gun. Who knows, I may even find time to do a little police work along the way.’

9

Friday, 16 September

‘Where are you from, Gottfried?’

The man smiled proudly. ‘Eger, in the Sudetenland. Another few weeks and you can call it Germany.’

‘Foolhardy is what I call it,’ I said. ‘Another few weeks and your Sudetendeutsche Partei will have us all at war. Martial law has already been declared in most SDP districts.’

‘Men must die for what they believe in.’ He leant back on his chair and dragged a spur along the floor of the interrogation room. I stood up, loosening my shirt collar, and moved out of the shaft of sunlight that shone through the window. It was a hot day. Too hot to be wearing a jacket, let alone the uniform of an old Prussian cavalry officer. Gottfried Bautz, arrested early that same morning, didn’t seem to notice the heat, although his waxed moustache was beginning to show signs of a willingness to stand easy.

‘What about women?’ I asked. ‘Do they have to die as well?’

His eyes narrowed. ‘I think that you had better tell me why I have been brought here, don’t you, Herr Kommissar?’

‘Have you ever been to a massage parlour on Richard Wagner Strasse?’

‘No, I don’t think so.’

‘You’re a difficult man to forget, Gottfried. I doubt that you could have made yourself look any easier to remember than if you had rode up the stairs on a white stallion. Incidentally, why do you wear the uniform?’

‘I served Germany, and I’m proud of it. Why shouldn’t I wear a uniform?’