‘For me, for meeee,’ Nina couldn’t help singing in response. ‘But there’s no such thing as demons – I’m more worried about bullets than brimstone. That’s everything he said?’ she demanded of Krämer.

‘That is all,’ he replied. ‘If you want to know anything else, you will have to speak to him in person. But I understand he is not very talkative. He has gone completely mad.’

They headed down another street, busy bars on both sides. The crowd grew thicker again, but now had a different feeling, contrasting with the out-for-a-good-time vibe of the Große Freiheit. While most of the men – and they were nearly all men here – moved with purpose, many kept their heads down almost furtively. ‘The red-light district?’ Nina asked disapprovingly.

‘Yeah,’ said Eddie, ‘but don’t worry, I didn’t bring us here to go window-shopping. Reason I did is ’cause there are always cops around. They’re probably not keen on the place, but prostitution’s legal in Germany, so they’re not here to bust the girls – but they will bust the heads of any punters who try anything funny. There’s a street down here that’s like hooker central, so die Polizei’ll be keeping an eye on things.’

‘Do I even want to know how you’re so well informed?’

‘I told you, I was a twenty-year-old squaddie when I came here last! Anyway, it’s just here.’

A side street had a tall barrier blocking its end, men going in and out through gates. Whatever was happening behind it was hidden from view, but from the lurid red lighting cast over the buildings beyond, Nina could take a pretty solid guess.

Krämer indicated a sign. ‘You will not be able to go in,’ he told Nina. ‘Women are not allowed. Except for the whores.’

‘I wasn’t planning on visiting,’ Eddie said impatiently, continuing past. ‘See? Cops.’ Several police officers were outside a nightclub ahead, two questioning a pair of worried-looking young men while the others stood in a loose cordon to deter onlookers from getting involved. ‘If you’ve just run through a crowded theatre with a gun, you won’t want to stroll right past a bunch of armed coppers who’ve probably got your description already.’

‘They might have our descriptions as well,’ said Cheng nervously.

‘Maybe, but cheerful bald guy who bows to the drag queen when she takes the piss out of him? Not threatening. Ivan Drago-looking arsehole waving a gun? Threatening. Only one of ’em’ll make people call one-one-zero.’