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worthwhile.’ As she said it she ran a finger nail down the V of his shirt through the hairs on his chest. There was a promise in her eyes that made his blood fizz like champagne.
    ‘Two weeks,’ he promised. ‘Quicker if I can make it so.’
    ‘Just see that you do, lover boy.’
    Jamie flew into Tegel airport three days later, refreshed and full of enthusiasm thanks to the unfamiliar experience of Devlin’s promised First Class all the way. The ten-thousand-mile journey had been broken by a day’s lay-over in Abu Dhabi where his clothes had been ironed by a smiling Pakistani girl while he showered and he’d even been able to catch up on a bit of sleep in a proper bed. No queues for the First Class traveller. By the time he cleared customs his baggage had already been collected and placed in a waiting limousine. Outside the terminal he stood for a moment taking in the peculiarly distinctive scent of a central European autumn; the promise of rain despite the eggshell-blue sky, and the lingering warmth that paradoxically contained a warning that it wouldn’t last. The driver was a big man in a too-tight suit who wore an expression that said he’d seen it all before. Jamie gave him the name of his hotel and relaxed in the rear of the big Mercedes.
    ‘Can we take the scenic route, please?’ he suggested in German.
    ‘Sure.’ The driver nodded and took the first exit off the autobahn. ‘My name is Max and I am at your service for the duration of your stay. We will go through Charlottenburg and then head for Tiergarten, yes?’
    Jamie had mixed memories of Berlin, but there was something about entering a great city that made him feel like an explorer starting a journey of infinite possibility. He found himself grinning. Out there, beyond the apartment blocks and the factories, were some of the world’s most wonderful art collections: hundreds, maybe thousands of years of potential and endeavour. The greatest heroes and villains in history had lived here, experiencing triumph and tragedy in equal measure.
    Their route took them down the east bank of the River Spree, with the Schlosspark an island of green on the far side. That was what Jamie liked best about Berlin, the open spaces and broad avenues and the way it could always surprise you. As they drove, he kept up a stream of small talk with the driver, testing his German and re-attuning himself to the rhythm and cadence of the language. By the time they reached the Tiergarten, Berlin’s sprawling central park, he didn’t even have to think about his replies. They talked about the weather and whatever they were passing at the time. This arrow-straight avenue had not long ago been at the heart of a tiny effervescent bubble of capitalism in the turgid Communist sea of eastern Europe. At the far end, beyond the column of victory, the road had come to an abrupt end at a twelve-foot concrete wall, a sanitized, mined death zone, and towers manned by guards who would shoot first and not bother asking questions after.
    They passed the familiar silhouette of the Brandenburg Gate and drove down the Unter den Linden. He’d had his pick of the city’s hotels, but Jamie had opted for a modern hotel on Karl-Liebknecht Strasse, within a grenade throw of the city’s museum district. His gaze swept over the brightly lit upmarket shops thronged with late-afternoon crowds. He remembered walking along this same street with Detective Danny Fisher. It occurred to him that an hour later he’d been chest to chest with a knife-wielding maniac surrounded by men with guns. Perhaps he’d give the sightseeing a miss this time round.
    Seconds later Max drew up in front of what looked like a futuristic shopping complex and jumped out to open Jamie’s door before darting to the boot to retrieve the Englishman’s luggage. Jamie put out a hand for his backpack, but the driver was already on his way to the hotel entrance with it.
    Inside was an enormous glass-roofed entrance hall. Max