well, I’d be a fool if I didn’t leave March here with you, wouldn’t I? Just in case you’re the next one to disappear.”

Neumann nodded to March, who opened the door. Koehler took a step forward and then stopped. Their eyes met.

“You haven’t asked where the robbery was, or if anyone was injured,” Neumann said.

“I’m sorry.” Koehler touched his forehead and nodded. “I’m . . . I’m a little confused by this. Please, tell me what happened.”

Koehler saw the lump of the policeman’s tongue run across his teeth behind his closed lips as he thought.

“A man died in a tailor’s shop on Regent Street,” Neumann finally said. “A tailor’s shop you have an account with.”

“Brown’s?” Koehler remembered the name of the shop.

“Mr. Brown died.”

“Oh . . . oh, that’s such a shame.” Koehler felt his heart beating so hard he thought it was going to erupt out of his chest.

“I’m not sure it was just the tailor who died. Someone else took a round in the shop; I’ll wager they are hurt pretty bad, if not—­”

“Who?” The word came out, soft as a breath, as Koehler’s heart suddenly stilled.

“We only found blood. It wasn’t far from where your wife’s ID was lying.” Neumann shrugged. “There was no body, but a body’s worth of blood. I don’t know whose, but as soon as I do, Major, so will you.”

Neumann nodded to March and then walked away toward the lift.

He didn’t care who he woke up.

ROSSETT WAS FREEZING. He looked at the half-­frozen sentry standing on the step that he’d been watching for the last ten minutes and shook his head.

He took out his cigarettes and looked for his matches.

He didn’t have any.

The boy didn’t look old enough to smoke, let alone have any matches, but the heavy hangover Rossett was carrying around was craving nicotine.

The sentry eyed him as he approached, so Rossett forced a smile to relax the boy. He guessed he didn’t look his best, because the sentry took a half step backward.

“Do you speak English?”

“A little,” the sentry replied.

“Do you have a light?” Rossett held up his cigarette. The sentry’s eyes darted toward the door, then back to Rossett, who read the signal.

“There is nobody coming. I’ll keep a lookout.”

The sentry changed hands with the rifle, then took out some matches and passed them across. Rossett nodded thanks, struck up, and then gave them back.

Rossett offered a cigarette to the German, who took it and lit up.

“Cold,” the sentry said, his English clunky and simple, smoke slithering out of his nostrils as he stamped his feet in the snow.

“The major?” The sentry pointed over his shoulder. “You wait?”

Rossett nodded.

“The police.” The sentry rolled his eyes and jabbed his thumb back at the door again. “They talk and talk.”

“The police?” Rossett looked up at the building.

“Yes, police, inside, nice and warm.” The sentry smiled, but this time Rossett ignored him.

He took a few steps back toward the car and looked up to where he guessed Koehler’s flat was on the third floor. “Did they say what they wanted?” he asked while still looking up, blinking at the snow.

“No.”

Rossett flicked his cigarette into the snow, where it hissed, still smoking, sitting on the surface four inches above the blanketed pavement.

“How many?”

The sentry held up four fingers.

“You’re sure they didn’t come back out?”

“Yes.” The sentry was frowning now, uncertain about his new English friend.

Rossett didn’t try to reassure him; he walked into the foyer of the building through the revolving door.

IT WAS HOT.

So hot he had to pull at the scarf around his neck to get some air. He looked at the empty concierge desk and then carried on toward the lift. The indicator over the cage doors told him it was on the third floor; he reached for the call button, but before he had a chance to push it, with a noisy clatter the lift started to descend.

Rossett wavered, debating whether to walk back out to the car or stand his ground.

He stood his ground, just like he always did, for better or worse, for his friend.

The lift was coming slowly, banging in the shaft.

Rossett saw the bottom of the car rattling down. He stepped back from the cage doors and watched the sole occupant’s feet descending into view.

The man inside opened the cage and paused when he saw Rossett.

Plainclothes, fifty-­odd years old, gray mustache with a yellow tinge that could do with a trim, and a raincoat that could do with a wash.

Policeman, thought Rossett.

“May I help you?” said the man with fairly good English.

“You the lift operator?” replied Rossett.

“No.”

“No, then.”

Rossett moved to step past Neumann, who had taken a pace forward himself.

“I’m Generalmajor Erhard Neumann of the Kriminalpolizei.”

“Good for you.”

“It is gone midnight, and you don’t live in this building, and you are English. This is a German officers’ accommodation block. So, I’ll ask again, may I help you?” Neumann produced his ID from his pocket and flashed it at Rossett.

Rossett held up his own ID, finger carefully covering his name, years of practice coming into play.

Neumann squinted at Rossett’s warrant card and then smiled.

“I think you will find my card trumps yours, so once again, for the last time. May I help you?”

“I’m visiting a friend.”

“Who?”

“Major Koehler.”

“Why?”

“We have work to do.”

“At this time of night?”

Rossett looked at the floor, sighed, and then punched Neumann hard in the mouth.

The force of the punch drove the older man hard into the back of the lift, which rang like a bell in its shaft. For a split second Rossett thought he had knocked Neumann clean out and he looked over his shoulder toward the concierge’s office, half expecting a squad of policemen to come running out.

They didn’t, so he turned back to Neumann, who was folded at the waist, his left hand drunkenly reaching for the thin brass handrail that ran around the lift. Rossett was impressed Neumann was still functioning. He punched the German again, this time on the left temple with a chopping right hand at half power.

Just enough for the job.

“You ask too many questions,” Rossett said as Neumann finally went down, face sliding down the side of the cage with his feet sticking out into the hallway beyond.