o, you are to answer our English problem?' he said, his voice a challenge.

'I think we can be of mutual assistance, yes.

'Caroline needs workers and she has a source of paperwork that's far better than anything Colin Osborne ever came up with. All we need to do now is to arrange a schedule for delivery and payment,' Tadeusz said, his manner businesslike as he sat down and lit a cigar.

'Tadeusz has shown me how your operation works. I'm impressed with how well organized the system is.' She gave Krasic an encouraging smile. 'I only work with people once I'm satisfied they can deliver what they promise, and I've seen enough now to know that's true of you guys.'

'We also work only with trust,' Krasic said. 'Do we trust you?'

'Come on, Darko, stop being such a hard-nosed bastard. We've checked Caroline's credentials, we know she's one of us. Now, how soon can we deliver her first load?'

Krasic shrugged. 'Three week?'

'It's going to take that long?' Carol asked. 'I thought you had a pretty streamlined operation going.'

'Things are difficult after Osborne has died,' Krasic said.

'What about the ones we're warehousing in Rotterdam?' Tadeusz butted in. 'Can't we move some of them into England sooner than that?'

Krasic frowned. 'I suppose so. You are in hurry?'

Til take delivery whenever you can arrange it. But if you've been warehousing the goods, I want to check them for myself before they leave. I don't want a container-load of corpses on my hands.'

Krasic darted a look at his boss. Tadeusz spread his hands. 'Of course, Caroline. Darko, why don't you set up a trip for the beginning of next week. Caroline and I will meet you in Rotterdam at the weekend before you load, and she can check it out for herself.'

Krasic stared at Tadeusz in disbelief, then spoke in German. Carol wished she knew the language better. Her verbal memory only worked in English; there was no way she could reproduce conversation in a foreign language. Tadeusz replied in a tone of rebuke, then returned to English. 'I apologize, we shouldn't exclude you from our discussion, but Darko's English isn't as good as mine. He's simply being over-protective. He's always anxious when I step out of my administrative role and get involved in the action. But sometimes I like to see things for myself. So, are you able to come to Rotterdam at the weekend to inspect your goods?'

She nodded. 'I'd like that. And that gives me enough time to have things in place at my end. I need to make sure my people have everything ready.'

'How many can you take?' Tadeusz asked.

'Thirty, to begin with,' she said. It was a figure she'd agreed with Morgan. Not too many for safe passage in a container, not so few that it wouldn't be worth Tadeusz's while. 'Then, after that, twenty a month.'

'That's not so many,' Krasic objected. 'We can supply many more.'

'Maybe so, but that's all I need. If this goes as well as I expect, it's entirely possible that I will expand my operation. A lot depends on my source for the paperwork. I'm getting top-class documentation, and I don't want to risk that by taking the pitcher to the well too often. So, for now, it's twenty bodies a month. Take it or leave it, Mr Krasic.' Carol had no difficulty in sounding tough. She'd spent enough hours in interview rooms with hard cases to have honed her skills in that area. She accompanied her words with a level gaze and unsmiling expression.

'Those numbers will be fine,' Tadeusz said. 'Thirty in the first shipment followed by twenty a month. Yes, we could use an outlet for more than that, but frankly I'd rather ship twenty knowing it wasn't going to backfire than send sixty with no certainties. Now all we have to settle is the financial arrangements.'

Carol smiled. She'd done it. And in record time. She wished she could see Morgan's face when he got her next email. Everything was in place. This weekend in Rotterdam they would finally nab Tadeusz Radecki and bring his empire crashing down around his ears. 'Yes,' she said cheerfully. 'Let's talk money.'

Tony had encountered plenty of clinical psychologists - and cops too - who had built walls between themselves and the distressing experiences their work exposed them to. He couldn't find it in his heart to blame them for imposing that distance. No sane person would seek out the sights they had to see, the verbal torrents of pain and anger they had to hear, the fractured remnants of human beings they had to deal with. However he had promised himself at the start of his clinical career that he would never shy away from empathy, whatever the cost. If the price became too high, he could always do something else for a living. But to lose the capacity to comprehend the pain of others, perpetrators as well as victims, was a kind of dishonesty, he believed.

The sheaf of papers he had brought back from Schloss Hochenstein stretched that credo almost to breaking point. The dispassionate lists of names, diagnoses and so-called treatments conjured up such a vision of hell that he found himself wishing he could assimilate the material with calm scientific objectivity. Instead, he felt harrowed to his very core. Simply being in possession of this information was enough to steal sleep from his nights for a long time to come, he knew only too well.

Dr Wertheimer had been right about the obsessive record keeping of the Nazi medical establishment. There were hundreds of names, spread out across the whole country. Every child had its accompanying set of vifcd statistics - name, age, address, names and occupations of parents. The reason for their hospitalization came next. Most common was 'mental retardation', closely followed by 'physical handicap'. But some of the explanations for removing children from their families were profoundly chilling. 'Congenital laziness.' 'Anti-social behaviour.' 'Racially contaminated.'

What must it have been like for the parents of such children, having to stand by while their offspring were dragged from them, knowing that to protest would be to bring retribution crashing down on their own heads without any prospect of saving their child? They must, he thought, have entered a state of denial that would have destroyed them emotionally and psychologically. No wonder post-war generations of Germans didn't want to be confronted with what had been done to their own children with their apparent consent.

At least the profoundly handicapped among the children would have been spared any real understanding of what was happening to them. But for the others, watching as their fellow inmates perished around them, daily life must have shrunk to the pinprick of relief when another day dawned and their eyes were open to see it.

The fate of many of the children was listed very simply. 'Treated with injections of experimental drugs. Failed to respond.' Followed by the date and time of death. It was code for euthanasia, that much was obvious. This was a rare example of a point where the arrogance of the regime had faltered. Even though they were convinced they would never be called to account for what had been done to these children in the name of Aryan purity, they'd felt the need for euphemism here.

That didn't mean there was much residual respect for the innocence of their victims, however. The destiny of other chil *dren was catalogued in brief terms that left Tony feeling ashamed to belong to the medical profession. Some had died in agony after being injected in the eyes in a series of experiments relating to eye colour. Others had been subjected to research into sleep cycles that had driven them mad. The list went on, sometimes with references to scientific papers where the results could be seen.

And no one had been punished for this. Worse, there were cases where a tacit deal had been done between the Allies and the defeated Nazis. Research conclusions would become the property of the victors in return for the silence of the perpetrators.

If Geronimo had paid some terrible personal price for what had been done in the name of science sixty years before, it didn't surprise Tony that he would be consumed by rage and bitterness. All those victims, and not a single person called to account. He was a rational man, and it enraged him. How much worse would it feel to be a second or third generation victim of such viciousness?

Geronimo was going for the wrong targets, it was true. He might deplore its end result, but Tony couldn't find it in his heart to condemn unequivocally the desire for vengeance that fuelled him.

P: you're right, the case notes are very chilling, are there any forensic traces on the file?

M: Too early to say. It's with the document examiner now. And I had an idea myself this afternoon. So many of our major traffic intersections are covered by CCTV now, I've asked for all the tapes from the day of de Groot's murder and I'm going to get my team to go through them all to see if they can spot a dark-coloured VW Golf with German plates.

P: great idea.

M: Maybe. It will really only be any use if we can cross-match it with one of the other lists. It's going to take ages to get anything comprehensive about the boats.

P: tony's been pursuing the idea of victims of psychological torture, today he picked up lists of child victims of the nazis. he's spending this evening scanning in all the names on to a master list, so he'll be able to let you have that as well, another possible list for cross-matching of names.

M: It's hard to feel that we're moving forward, all the same.

i P: the stories in the papers this morning haven't helped either.

M: At least they don't seem to have picked up on the connection to our case, so we're being/left in peace. Has it provoked more co-operation among the German forces?

P: i don't really know, i'm too far out of the loop, you'll probably hear before i will, but the tv news this evening ran a piece about university lecturers living in fear of a serial killer, i'm afraid he's going to go to ground.

M: Either that or take more risks. If he can't rely on his usual method of setting up his victims, he'll find some other way. It's all very depressing. Cheer me up. How are things with your other undercover operation?

P: it looks like we've located marlene krebs' daughter, what we're going to do is simultaneously raid the place where the daughter is being kept AND put marlene in protective custody out of radecki's reach, once we have him behind bars, we'll get everything else we need, clever, no?

M: As long as you don't compromise Jordan in the process.

P: trust me, it's all sorted, or it will be, anyway, i'm thinking we can organize it all for the same time, the sting goes off with Jordan and we do our stuff, so nobody compromises anybody else.

M: Congratulations! I know how hard you've worked for this!

P: i think we need to celebrate in person, marijke. will you come to berlin?

M: I'd love to. But right now I'm too wrapped up in this case. Why don't you take some days' leave after you take Radecki down and come to Leiden?

P: i don't know, it'll be crazy here after we nail him. let's just leave it that we'll crack open the champagne in one city or other once we've both got our cases out of the way.

M: OK. But I want you to know that I feel confident about meeting face to face at last.

P: me too. scared, but confident too.

M: I need to go now, I'm actually still at work and there is more stuff I need to do.

P: ok. the harder you work, the sooner the case will be solved and we can plan getting together.

M: You think so?, ''

P: i know it.

Under different circumstances, Carol would have found it hard to fault the evening. An attentive, handsome host, gourmet food, an array of remarkable wines, and surroundings that would have been the envy of the production editor of any interior design magazine. Not to mention conversation that had ranged across politics, music and foreign travel before taking roost in the more intimate territory of past relationships.

But these were not consolations enough to overcome Carol's underlying feeling of unease. She could never afford to let her guard slip for a moment, never forget that she was wearing another woman's past instead of her own, never react to any comment of Tadeusz's without weighing and measuring her response. She was so close now, and a single slip could undo everything.

And at the back of her mind was the constant disturbance created by the resurfacing of Tony in her life. It made this elegantly controlled flirtation with Tadeusz feel doubly duplicitous. Knowing she would end the evening with Tony and not the man who was trying so hard to woo her gave everything strange undertones and layered meanings.

Now, he returned from another trip to the kitchen with a laden tray. He stood in the doorway of the dining room and smiled at her. 'I thought we could take our coffee in the living room. It's more comfortable, and the view is prettier.'

Good pitch, she thought. What he meant, of course, was that it would be easier to pounce there than across a table littered with the detritus of a five-course dinner. 'That sounds nice,' she said, rising and following him.

Carol checked out the room as she entered. Two sofas in an obvious conversational grouping and an armchair set off to one side. Taking the armchair would be a statement that put distance between them, and while she didn't want to offer too much encouragement, she was still a long way from home and dry with this sting. Until they had Radecki and Krasic in the bag, she needed to keep him feeling close to her.

Tadeusz had placed the tray on a low sculpted steel and glass table that sat in the angle between the two sofas. He glanced up at her, his eyes lingering over the close-fitting lines of the cocktail dress. 'Make yourself comfortable,' he said, bending over to pour the coffee into paper-thin bone china cups.

Carol sat down on the sofa nearest the coffee, crossing her legs in the hope that it would send out the right signals, but failing to realize how it emphasized the smooth curve of her calf and the neatness of her ankle. Tadeusz leaned across the table, one hand on the top to balance himself as he handed over her coffee. 'Brandy?' he asked. 'It can't be too early now.'

With a slight nod and smile, she acknowledged his reference to their earlier meeting, the first time he'd hinted at business all evening. 'I'd prefer Grand Marnier, if you have it. \

'Your wish is my command.' He crossed to the drinks tray and returned with a balloon of brandy for himself and a liberal Grand Marnier for her. As she'd feared, he took the chance to sit next to her. She was effectively trapped between him and the arm of the sofa. They're so predictable, she thought wearily.

She hung on to her coffee cup. Nobody would be crazy enough to lunge at a woman clutching hot coffee. 'That was a beautiful meal,' she said. 'I feel completely spoiled. Thank? you for going to so much trouble.'

He put his drink down, leaving himself unencumbered. 'It really was no trouble. A phone call, then the simple adherence to instructions. Turn on the oven at such a temperature. Insert dish A. Wait ten minutes. Insert dish B. That sort ojf thing.'

Carol shook her head. 'I'd have been just as happy with takeaway pizza, you know.'

'That dress deserves much more than a takeaway pizza.' His hand strayed to her thigh, his fingertips brushing the delicate linen and silk mixture.

Oh shit, here we go, she thought. 'Both the dress and its owner are honoured,' she said.

He shifted so he was facing her. Gently, he took the cup from her hands and placed it on the table. 'The least I could do for the woman who has reminded me that it's possible to laugh.' He leaned forward and kissed her.

Carol tried to find the appropriate response. She could taste brandy on his breath and it revolted her. But she dared not show that. Equally, she dared not allow herself the luxury of relaxing into an embrace that she found hard to resist. Her _ body's response to him was automatic, animal. In spite of I herself, she found him attractive, and her hormones were f responding independently of her brain. She was kissing him ; with as much heat as he was kissing her. [

His hands were on her body now, pulling her closer. She | didn't resist, running her fingers over the long muscles of his back. Still they were kissing, tongues flickering in and out of . each other's mouths, breath coming harder and faster. Now f he was moving on top of her, his hand moving under her dress, a burn against her skin. She didn't want him to stop, she realized with a shock.

Her reason staged a rearguard action against her body's desire. Images flashed across her brain. The corpses spilling out of a shipping container. Morgan's mouth telling her Radecki's human trafficking had to be stopped. The assassinated man on the steps of the GeSa. Then Tony's face, the eyes reproachful, the mouth rueful. Suddenly, Carol Jordan was back in control of Caroline Jackson. She pulled away from Tadeusz's eager mouth. 'No, wait,' she gasped.

He froze, his hand halfway up her thigh. 'What's wrong?' he panted.

She closed her eyes. 'I can't. I'm sorry. I just can't.'

He leaned into her more closely, his fingers pressing more firmly into her flesh. 'You want to, I know you do.'

Carol squirmed as far as she could get from him, thrusting his hand away from her leg. 'I did. I mean, I do. It's just... I'm sorry, Tadzio, it's all too fast. Too sudden.'

He smacked the palms of his hands hard on his thighs. 'I don't understand. You kissed me like you wanted me.' His voice was raised, his eyebrows lowering over narrowed eyes.

'It's not that I don't. Please don't think that. But... this is very strange for me. I've never had a relationship with someone I'm doing business with. I'm not sure if I can handle it. I need time to figure this out.'

'Jesus Christ.' He jumped to his feet and took a cigar from the humidor. He fussed over lighting it, as if making an opportunity to collect himself. 'I've never wanted to do this with anyone I was doing business with,' he said, his words far more reasonable than his tone. 'But I don't see w^y it should interfere with our professional relationship. It could make it stronger. Working as a team. We'd be great, Caroline.'

She reached for her drink and took a sip. 'That's what I'd like too. But I need a little more time to get used to the idea.

I'm not saying never, I'm just saying not tonight.' She looked away. 'And there's another thing too.'

'Oh? What might that be?' He glared mutinously at her.

'Katerina,' she said softly.

His face dosed down in the tight mask she'd seen the first time they'd met. 'What about Katerina?' he eventually said.

'You're the one who said how much I look like her.' Carol tried for a pleading expression. 'I need to be sure it's really me you want to sleep with, not another version of Katerina.'

His eyes clouded and his shoulders drooped. 'You think I haven't asked myself the same question?'

'I don't know.' Realizing she'd found the button to push that had turned his anger to vulnerability, Carol let herself relax a fraction.

'The first time I saw you, once I got over the shock, I told myself I would never lay a finger on you because it would be sick. But the more I've got to know you, the more I've got to like you. Now when I look at you, I see Caroline, not Katerina. You have to believe that.'

'I want to believe it, Tadzio. But I think I need a little more time.'

He folded his arms across his chest. 'I understand. Take the time you need. It's not like there's any rush. I'm sorry if I came on too strong.'

She shook her head. 'There's nothing to apologize for. At least it's made us clear the air. Find out where we stand.'

He managed a faint smile. 'I have a good feeling about this, Caroline.'

The too, Tadzio. But I want to be sure.' She straightened her dress and stood up. 'And now I think I should go home.'

His light was still burning, the curtains wide open. It had been the first thing Carol had checked as she stepped out of

Tadeusz's Mercedes and said good night to his driver. She felt dishevelled and faintly dirty from her scramble on the sofa, but she didn't care. The need to see Tony was too strong for her to want to waste time restoring herself to a pristine state.

The door opened so swiftly she could almost have believed he was waiting for her knock. Tony smiled appreciatively at the sight of her. 'You look stunning,' he said, ushering her through to the living room. 'How did it go?' he asked as he followed her through. They stood inches away from each other. She looked breathtaking, he thought, her hair gleaming against the darkness of the window, her lips slightly parted in a tentative smile. There was an air of arousal about her that gave him a pang of distress. He recognized it as jealousy. He wanted her to feel that way about him, not a creep like Radecki who was nothing more than a gangster with a veneer of sophistication.

'It couldn't have gone better earlier in the day. He took me out into the country and showed me how he runs his trafficking operations on the waterways. And this afternoon, we had a meeting with his sidekick, Darko Krasic. God, he looks a total brute. Now there's a man who would make a girl think twice about breaking her cover. And he hates me. He'd snap my neck as soon as look at me if he thought I was going to do anything to damage his precious Tadzio.'

'God preserve us from male bonding. That must have been scary,' Tony said.

'It was. But it helped me concentrate on being Caroline. And it worked, Tony, it really worked. We've got a deal. We're off to Rotterdam at the weekend to check out the illegal immigrants he's going to supply me with and we can nail him hi the act. Morgan will be like a dog with two tails when he gets my report!'

Tony nodded. 'You've done really well.'

She shrugged. 'I couldn't have done it without your help.'

'Don't be daft, of course you could. So how did this evening go? Were you celebrating your new business relationship?' He couldn't keep an edge of bitterness out of his voice.

'He tried to jump me,' she said, with a moue of distaste. 'But I managed to fend him off. It's tricky, making sure I give him enough rope to hang himself without me getting entangled in it too.'

'It can't be easy,' Tony agreed, the words dragging out of him.

She took a step forward. 'He's an attractive man. My body seems to find that harder to resist than my head does. And that's very confusing.'

Tony stared at the floor. He was afraid to look at her. 'Just as well you're so thoroughly professional,' he muttered.

Carol put a hand on his arm. 'It wasn't my professionalism that got me out of it. It was because I kept thinking of you.'

'You couldn't stand my disapproval, huh?' His familiar lopsided smile crept out of hiding.

She shook her head. 'Not exactly. It was more about reminding myself what I really want.' She moved closer to him. He could feel the heat rising from her body. Without thinking, he opened his arms and she stepped into their circle. They stood together, hugging so tight they could feel the thud of each other's blood. He buried his face in her hair, inhaling the sweet smell of her. For the first time since his visit to Schloss Hochenstein, his mind was freed from the images of horror it had generated.

The reprieve didn't last for long. Carol ran her fingers through the hair on the back of his head and spoke softly. 'I'm sorry. All I think about is me. How has your day been?'

His body stiffened in her embrace, and he gently moved away from her. 'You don't want to hear this stuff,' he said, crossing to the table and picking up the bottle of Scotch sitting there. He raised his eyebrows at her and Carol shook her head. He poured a stiff drink and dropped into the upright chair by his laptop. He sipped at the whisky and shook his head. 'Trust me, you really don't.'

Carol perched on the end of the sofa, only a few inches separating their knees. Tm not exactly a horror-story virgin,' she reminded him. 'You know how this stuff eats away at you. So come on, share the burden.'

He stared down into his drink. 'Kids. They were just kids. It's not like I don't know in graphic detail what gets done to children.' He frowned. 'But that's individuals. One sick bastard preying on kids. So that's manageable, because they're beyond the pale. They're not like us. That's what you reassure yourself with.' He swallowed more whisky.

'But the terrible thing about this, Carol, the thing that makes me feel like I've swallowed some corrosive poison just by knowing about this stuff, is that it was a collaborative effort. Dozens, probably hundreds of people were involved in what was done to those children. Their parents hid behind their own sense of powerlessness and let those bastards take their kids away. And for what? Because they were physically handicapped. Or because they were mentally deficient. Or just because they were difficult little buggers who didn't stick to the rules.' He ran a hand through his hair, his face revealing his troubled bewilderment. Carol put a hand on his knee and he covered it with his own.

'And then the doctors and nurses. Not ignorant peasants, educated people. People like you and me. People who went into this line of work presumably because they had some desire to heal ?he sick. But an edict went out from on high and suddenly mey stopped being healers and started being torturers and murderers. I mean, how can you get your head round that? I've never had a problem understanding the self deception involved in being a concentration camp guard. When you feel vulnerable, demonizing some outsider groupin like Jews or gypsies or communists isn't such a big step for most of us. But these were German children. Most of the people who destroyed their lives were probably parents themselves. How could they dissociate what they were doing for a living from their own domestic lives? For some of them at least, it must have wrecked their heads.'

He shook his head. Tm good at empathy. I'm good at feeling the pain of people who can only function by transferring their own pain on to other people. But I'm damned if I can find a shred of pity for anybody who was involved in committing the acts I've read about today.'

'I'm so sorry,' Carol said. 'I shouldn't have brought you into this.'

He forced a tired smile. 'No need to apologize. But, if I'm right, and our killer is a victim at one remove from what happened in those so-called hospitals, then I've got to say, he's not the only one who's to blame. The people who really carry the responsibility for these murders are way beyond the reach of our justice.'

In the street below, Radovan Matic couldn't believe his eyes. He'd spent a boring evening outside Tadeusz Radecki's apartment block, fully expecting to be there till the early hours at least. No red-blooded male would let a woman like that leave his apartment without giving her one. And from everything his Uncle Darko had said about Radecki, the man was no monk. He'd been mildly surprised when Radecki's familiar black Mercedes had pulled up outside the building just after ten o'clock, and astonished when Caroline Jackson had emerged alone a few minutes later.

He'd followed the Merc back to her place, and been lucky enough to find a parking space directly opposite as she walked inside. He decided to wait until he saw her light come on, then call his uncle in the hope he'd be allowed to go home to bed. Rado got out of his car and moved into the shadows of a florist's doorway so he could better see the apartment block.

Minutes ticked past, and no light appeared at the windows he knew to be hers. What was going on? He knew from watching her previously that as soon as she walked in, a glow from the hall could be seen at the living-room window. Yet the rooms remained in darkness. Had he made a mistake? Was he watching the wrong window? He counted them off from the first-floor corner window, just to be sure.

That was when he saw her. Unmistakably. But she was in the wrong place. Instead of being on the third floor, she was on the first. And she was with a man who definitely wasn't Tadeusz Radecki. As he watched, they moved closer together, clearly having some sort of intense conversation. Then they were in each other's arms.

The bitch had come straight from Radecki's apartment to this other man's embrace. Rado reached for his phone. This was something his uncle needed to know about. And fast.

Krasic was there inside twenty minutes. He'd run every amber light the length of the Ku'damm in his eagerness to discover Caroline Jackson doing something she shouldn't be doing. He parked across somebody's garage entrance and barrelled up the street to his nephew's vantage point. 'What's happening?' he demanded.

Rado pointed up to the' oblong of light on the first floor. 'That's where she was. Her and this bloke. Tadeusz's driver dropped her off/and her lights didn't go on. Next thing was, I spotted her in the first-floor window with him. They were talking, then they were snogging. Then they disappeared. So I'd say at a rough guess that they're shagging, wouldn't you?'

'I told him not to trust her,' Krasic growled. 'So what number is this apartment?'

'It's two floors below hers. If she's 302, he must be in 102.' As he spoke, the man came into view again. 'That's him, Uncle. That's the man she was with,' he exclaimed excitedly, pointing up to the window as Tony crossed from one side to the other before disappearing again.

Krasic chopped Rado's arm to his side with a savage blow. 'For fuck's sake, Rado, do you want the whole street to see us?'

Rado clutched his aching arm and squirmed with the pain. 'Sorry, Uncle.'

'Never mind. You did a good job, spotting the bitch. Now I need to find out who her fancy man is. It'll have to wait till morning.' He was speaking to himself more than to his nephew. Krasic stared up at the window like a moonstruck hare, an intent frown on his face.

Time passed. Rado fidgeted, but Krasic stood immobile as stone. His military training had taught him the importance of being able to watch without being seen. Then, his life had depended on it. He wondered if that might be the case again.

At last, his patience was rewarded. There was no mistaking Caroline Jackson with her poignant echo of Katerina Basler's beauty. She stood near the window, her mouth moving in silent speech. Then, right next to her, the man popped up again. His hands came up to the side of her head, holding her as they kissed. It wasn't, he thought, the sort of casual good night kiss friends might share. As they parted, Caroline rumpled his hair in a gesture of easy affection. Then they both moved out of Krasic's line of sight.

A couple of minutes later, the man reappeared. He walked across to the window and stared out. Krasic shoved Rado even further back into the dark recess, crushing him against the shop door. But the man showed no signs of noticing their presence as he gazed up at the sky.

Peering over his uncle's shoulder, Rado said, 'Look, she's back home.' A light had gone on two floors above. As they watched, the woman they knew as Caroline Jackson drew the curtains.

Five minutes later, the man on the first floor turned his back on the street and his light went out. 'Go home, Rado,' Krasic instructed him. 'There'll be work for you in the morning. I'll call you when I know what it is.'

He watched the boy leave, glad that he'd had the presence of mind to keep a tail on the two-faced bitch. Whatever she was up to with the man on the first floor, it wasn't something she had chosen to mention to Tadzio. In his book, that meant it had to be something she didn't want them to know.

Krasic didn't like other people's secrets. In his experience, they spelled danger. Before too long, he was going to uncover whatever skeletons Caroline Jackson was keeping hidden in Apartment 102.

The Shark hadn't been exaggerating about the pigs, Petra thought grimly as she shuffled along on her stomach in a muddy ditch beneath a thorn hedge. The stink was overpowering, and they definitely did seem to head deliberately in her direction before delivering up their wind with a satisfied grunt. What he hadn't mentioned was the rats. She'd already come eye to beady eye with one, and she could swear she felt them running over her lower legs. Just the thought of it made her flesh crawl.

Before Plesch would authorize a full-scale liberation operation to rescue Tanja Krebs, she had insisted on corroboration of The Shark's sighting. 'It's not that I doubt your abilities,' she'd lied. 'But it's easy to make a mistake, to see what you want to see rather than what is actually the case. So before we make a big song and dance about this, I want Petra to go out there and confirm that the girl is being held there. If you're right, we'll mount a formal surveillance and prepare a hostage release strategy.'

She'd never seen Plesch in such a good mood. She'd even agreed without quibble to Petra's suggestion about putting Marlene into a witness protection programme, and that they should move fast and aim to co-ordinate their raid with Radecki's arrest in Rotterdam. Even the rats and pigs couldn't dissipate Petra's feeling of imminent triumph.

And in spite of Marijke's pessimism, she couldn't help but feel they were making some progress on the serial killer front, thanks in part to Tony Hill. He was a strange guy, she thought. There was obviously some kind of history between him and Carol. They both had that slight awkwardness when they talked about each other, and Carol had been much more relaxed since he'd arrived in Berlin. Well, good luck to them. She knew what a difference it made to have a relationship with someone who spoke the same professional language.

She adjusted her position, making sure she could get her binoculars to her eyes with the minimum of movement. She'd been here for hours, and the only thing that had happened was that old man Matic had fed the pigs. She glared at a heavy old sow who was lumbering towards her in a purposeful way, and held her breath.

At least it wasn't raining.

Yet.

Tony lay on the comfortable bed, enjoying the feel of the cool white cotton on his body. He couldn't remember the last time he'd felt so genuinely at peace. Certainly never in the middle of a serial killer investigation. But this morning, he felt like a swimmer who has finally arrived at the shore after an interminable battle with the waves. Ever since he'd first met Carol, he'd been struggling to make sense of the feelings she provoked in him. At first, he'd tried denial, since he khew he was incapable of giving her the sexual satisfactio^i she deserved. Then he'd tried to force it into the box riiarked 'friendship' because he feared the work they'd done together had laid too great a burden of emotional baggage on them. Finally, he'd opted for distance on the basis that what the eye doesn't see, the heart can't grieve over.

Each of these strategies had failed. But now the combination of a little blue pill and his experience with Frances had overcome that first objection. The second objection had fallen to the realization that what they had endured together could make them stronger rather than damage their intimacy. And now the distance had been shattered, and the world hadn't ended.

In all his working life, he had never found it possible to talk openly to another human being about his feelings when confronted with the appalling things one person could do to another. Yet the night before, he'd spilled out the anguish in | his heart to Carol without a second thought. Even as he'd | spoken, there had been an admonitory voice in the back of his head, warning that he was saying far too much. But he'd ignored it and, instead of revulsion, he'd found compassion. After the, horrors of the Nazi records, he'd feared a succession of sleep- * less nights, afraid to close his eyes because of what dreams i could do to him. Somehow Carol had acted as balm, releasing him from the terrible power of his imagination.

For the first time in years, he had something to look forward to beyond the closure of the case that currently occupied his mind. It was a tantalizing prospect. But before then, he had work to do. Tony pushed himself into a sitting position. Something was niggling at the back of his mind and he couldn't quite put his finger on it. It was something he'd seen or heard in Bremen, a detail that hadn't seemed relevant at the time but which should mean something to him now. 'Where are you, Geronimo?' he said softly. 'Are you planning the next one? Where is it going to be next? Where is the water going to take you next?