right. It's a line of inquiry we're pursuing.'
'So, I thought it might be worth looking at traffic tickets?' He stood waiting for encouragement.
'Yes?' She was too weary to manage more than polite interest.
'So I went back and checked? And I found this -' With a flourish, he produced a sheet of paper from the folder he was carrying. He handed it over with the pride of a dog delivering a very slobbery stick.
It was a speeding ticket generated by one of the automatic cameras on the outskirts of the town. The date and time corresponded to Pieter de Groot's murder. The photograph showed a black Volkswagen Golf with German plates. Like the one Margarethe Schilling's partner had seen on her drive. Marijke felt her palms sweating as she read the details. The car was registered to Wilhelm Albert Mann. Twenty-six years old. His address was given as the Wilhelmina Rosen, care of a Hamburg shipping company. 'Unbelievable,' she breathed. It looked as if Tony had been rigjit all along.
'Does this help?' Daan asked eagerly.
'Oh yes,' she said, amazed that she could still sound calm. 'Yes, this helps a great deal. Thanks, Daan. Oh, and can you keep quiet about this for now? Confidentiality, and all that...'
He nodded. 'No problem, Brigadier.' He scuttled off, turning back at the door to give her a little wave.
The question was, what should she do now? Somehow, she had the feeling that the German detectives might be reluctant to see this as a high-priority solid lead. For one thing, it appeared to be nothing more than a combination of hunch and coincidence. There were plenty of innocent reasons why a German barge skipper's car might have been in Leiden. There wasn't even any proof that Mann himself had been driving it. More importantly, she understood only too well the politics of policing. No matter how eager the detectives were to clear their cases, there would be a reluctance on the part of their bosses to accept guidance from the Dutch police. They'd want the murders solved, sure, but they'd want the cases cracked by their own people. So while they might be glad of a lead on such a tough case, she didn't think it would be treated with the urgency she thought it deserved. Besides, this had been her case from the beginning. If it hadn't been for her and Petra, the German police would be a lot further behind than they were now. If anyone deserved the credit for solving these murders, it was them. She wasn't ready to give it away yet.
What she needed was for one of her unofficial allies to track down the Wilhelmina Rosen and check out Wilhelm Albert Mann. If Tony was right about the killer's boat being trapped by the floodwaters, it couldn't be too hard to search the Kohl area for Mann's barge.
She walked back inside, mentally composing the email.
Krasic looked down at the chubby young man who loomed over his keyboard like a miniature Jabba the Hurt. 'What do you think? Can you find out about this Dr Anthony Hill for me?'
Hansi the hacker smirked. 'Piece of piss. The public stuff I can get in minutes, but the private stuff, like address, bank details, that'll take me a bit longer. Leave it with me, I'll get you everything that's out there in a matter of hours.'
'Good. Oh, and while you're at it...' He read out the address Tony had taken a cab to that morning. 'I want to know who lives there. And what they do. OK?'
'And I get paid when?'
Krasic patted him on his greasy head. 'When I see the results.'
'I've never let you down yet,' the hacker said, his mouse pointer already moving across the screen.
'Now would not be a good time to start.' Before Krasic could say more, his phone rang. He stepped to the other side of the high-ceilinged room of the apartment in Prenzlauer Berg, where counter-culture wannabes rubbed shoulders with the real thing like his man in the corner. 'Hello?' he grunted.
'Darko, it's Arjouni.' The heavy Turkish accent was unmistakable, Krasic thought, wishing his new middle man would remember not to use names on the phone.
'What can I do for you?'
'We're short. The supplies that were due, they've not come in.'
'I know that. Don't you have enough to be going on with?'
'I'm nearly out. There's no way I can make it through the weekend.'
'Shit.' Krasic muttered. 'OK, leave it with me.' He ended the call then dialled Tadeusz. 'BossiWe've