‘Well, I didn’t think you were just off for a picnic, officer. Whether you’re chasing murderers or fare dodgers, my answer’s the same. I don’t know who you’re on about. And you’re not the first to be asking, either.’

Müller’s ears pricked up. ‘I don’t suppose you can tell me what the other person questioning you looked like?’

‘Ah, well that’s where you’re in luck. If people actually talk to me, I always remember their faces.’ It turned out that lack of observation skill certainly wasn’t one of the boatman’s faults, even if general disinterest was. He proceeded to give a perfect description of the man identifying himself as Stasi officer Hauptmann Gustav Weiß – the man who, if Bahlow was to be believed, was in fact a British agent.

‘When was he here?’ asked Müller.

The man held her gaze. ‘Yesterday, officer. About this time yesterday.’

*

They followed the riverside path in a north-westerly direction. Thankfully, a renewed cold snap meant the ground was frozen under the covering of snow, otherwise Müller would have expected them to be sinking into mud. As it was, she could feel her feet turning numb as the cold penetrated.

The snow did have another advantage. If Lotti at some stage had turned off the path, into the surrounding snow-covered water meadow, then they might be able to pick up her footprints. Or at least, a set of footprints. They would have no way of telling if they belonged to the woman they were looking for.

After about 300 metres, after crossing a footbridge, the path split into two – with the main branch continuing to follow the river, and the other following the line of a drainage ditch towards the nearest settlement, the Dresden district of Tolkewitz. Both paths were reasonably well-trodden – there was no indication which way Lotti had gone.

‘How are we going to split it?’ asked Tilsner.

‘If you take that path, Jonas and I will continue along the river,’ said Müller.

Tilsner nodded and turned off the main route.

Müller and Schmidt continued along the path, keeping their eyes peeled for any footprints diverting either towards the river, or further into the meadows. There were none, save for a couple of tracks obviously made by animals. And no sign of anyone in the flesh, either.

‘What do we do, Comrade Hauptmann? We could perhaps take a look in the cemetery?’

Müller shook her head. ‘We seem to have lost her, Jonas, unless she went the way Werner’s gone. It might be worth getting sniffer dogs involved, but then it will become obvious to her that something’s wrong. I’ll try to raise Werner on the radio.’

She began to try to contact Tilsner, asking to be patched through via the People’s Police HQ. But neither they, nor she, were able to get a reply.