Death

offered no relief.

And now its sound was changing, still as powerful and as pulsing as ever, but now something more, something else… and suddenly she recognized the dark and terrible music of Siegfried's funeral with a shock of fear that woke her.

The dancing shadows of the bonfire were replaced by the still white walls of her bedroom and its searing heat by the sharp chill of an English January night.

But the music remained. Those shuddering glooms of sound which roll down the margins of mortality into the underworld still reverberated in her mind. And in her ears.

She sat up.

Still it was there.

Slowly she got out of bed, fumbled in her bedside drawer, found what she was looking for, and moved towards her bedroom door. Beneath it she could see a line of light, red and faintly flickering as if the bonfire she had dreamt about lay just beyond this portal.

Dauntless, she took the handle, turned it and pushed the door open.

From her tape deck the music boomed, while from her gas-fire the flickering orange flames cast just enough light to trace the outline of a monstrous figure whose bulk spilled over the edge of the old armchair in which it sat. Her nerveless fingers sought but could not find the light switch.

'Who's there?' she demanded shrilly. 'Who is that? I warn you, I have arms.'

'Good job I'm 'armless then’ said the figure. 'It's all right lass, it's only me, the Ghost of Christmas Past. Come in and shut that door. There's a hell of a draught.'

And the figure leaned forward till she was able to recognize the unwelcome welcome face of Detective Superintendent Andrew Dalziel.

Dalziel relaxed in his chair and watched the woman as she busied herself round the room, turning the music off and the lights on. The round anonymity of her face, which must be useful in her line of work, had somehow vanished. Perhaps it was the shock of sudden awaking to this strange invasion or the absence of make-up or the fact that her hair was no longer neat and carefully coiffed. Her round features now seemed sharp and well defined. She slept in nothing but a thin white T-shirt and it could be that the new awareness this gave him of her sexuality aided the defining process. He noted that, despite her delaying tactics, she made no attempt to get a dressing gown. Bright lass, he thought. Gets herself together, but reckons there might be some advantage in distracting me with her tits.

Finally she sat down opposite him, very demurely, pulling the T-shirt over her knees.

'So,' she said, 'Superintendent Dalziel, you have broken into my flat at one o'clock in the morning. You are drinking my whisky, which is theft, and as you've gone through my tapes, I presume you've performed an illegal search. Or is there something I have missed?'

'Nay, lass, that just about wraps it up. Nice whisky too. Was a bit worried you might have nowt but schnapps or some other Kraut firewater. Going to join me?'

She smiled and leaned forward to fill a glass and said, 'I'm really interested to know why a senior policeman should put his career at risk in such a way.'

'Aye, that's the tie-break question, isn't it? To tell you the truth, all I really came lor was to find out why you are leaving.'

'Leaving?'

'Come on, luv. You don't imagine someone with your record can book plane seats without half the police forces in Europe knowing.'

This was a lie. In the three days since getting Wield's report, the Fat Man had certainly spent a lot of time planning his strategy with regard to Richter, but he'd had no idea of her plans to return to Germany until he'd found the plane ticket in her desk drawer. It was for tomorrow, it was one-way, and it was first class.

His conclusion had been that she felt her job here was either over or getting nowhere and he'd been tempted to steal away as silently as he'd come, but only for a second. It was, he'd discovered in the course of a life packed, both professionally and personally, with problems, a delusion that they ever went away.

And Charley Penn certainly wasn't going away.

She said, 'So you have also been illegally accessing computer databases?'

'Not sure what that means, but I dare say you're right. So let's get down to it, Fraulein Richter. Here's what I know about you and what I want from you. You're an old mate of Charley Penn's, on good shagging terms, from the look of things. You came here at his instigation to see what you could sniff out via Miss Pomona about the circumstances of Dick Dee's death. Now, what I'd like for you to do is tell me what you imagine you've found out, then we can all get into our beds. All right?'

She shook her head in not altogether affected amazement.

'Charley told me about you, Mr Dalziel, but I did not altogether believe him. Now I realize he got it wrong. He told me you were arrogant and ruthless, but he did not tell me you were also stupid. Do you really think you can break your English law and violate my rights in this way and get away with it? You say you've studied my background. You must know I've helped put more powerful and important men than you behind bars.'

I'm sorry, luv,' said Dalziel, deliberately misunderstanding. 'My dad told me never to contradict a lady, but I've got to say that, when it comes to putting buggers behind bars, I reckon I’can give thee half the Sudeten-land start and still be in Prague afore ye. But why make such a pother? It's tit for tat, you help me, I'll help you, can't say fairer than that.'

'What could you help me with?' she asked mockingly. 'Are you going to fix a parking ticket, perhaps?'

'I can manage that too, but I were thinking more of keeping you out of jail’ said Dalziel, leaning forward to help himself to more whisky. 'Jail? For what?' she demanded. 'You got no laws in Germany then? Well, we've got enough to go round. First off, personation, forgery and deception. You took this flat telling the estate agent you were English and called Myra Rogers, and handing over a set of references to show what an upright British citizen you were. Want more? You've got a bagful of interesting-looking white powder in your fridge. And while you may have a licence back home for that natty little gun you were waving just now, I can't find any trace of anything which makes it legal here. Want more? You've employed Mr Tristram Lilley to introduce illicit surveillance equipment into a private dwelling which involved illegal entry. Yes, I've had a word with him I being a self-centred little scrote, he's talking so fast, his own equipment can't keep up. Want more? I haven't even started with the stuff I can heap on top of you yet.'

These are empty threats, Superintendent,' she said calmly. 'I have been hounded by experts and threatened with physical violence, death even, and I am still here. I know lawyers who will get me out of your clutches without even leaving their offices.'

‘I can believe it. They ought to geld one a day to encourage the others. Aye, the law's an ass, all right, but the good thing is it's a broken-winded and spavin'd ass. Now I'd guess that maybe one thing that's helped you decide to leave first class is someone back in Kraut-land has offered you a real job setting the world to rights.'

She was good at hiding, but he was better at seeking and saw he'd scored a hit.

He went on, 'I think I can guarantee you'll stay banged up long enough for your friends back home to find themselves another Mata Hari. And I'll make sure that you get such publicity all over Europe, you'll need to wear a beard next time you go undercover.'

She thought for a moment then she smiled at him.

'Perhaps you're right,' she said. 'Tell me what you want and I'll see if I can help you.'

Then she shivered and went on, 'It's so cold in these English flats, don't you think so? In Germany we know how to keep warm.'

As she spoke, she half turned to the gas fire and arched her body towards it as if in search of heat, hitching the T-shirt up as she did so.

Dalziel relaxed in his chair, nodded approvingly and raised his glass.

After a moment, Richter pulled her T-shirt back over her knees.

'Nice try, lass, but I've got one of my own at home that I'd like to get back to,' said Dalziel. 'Save it for Charley. Though I can't understand what you see in him myself. Thought you lot liked a bit more meat on your men.'

'Charley is a good man,' she said seriously. 'And not a stupid one. When he told me his story and asked for