‘I’m Commissar Gunther, from the Alex,’ I said. There seemed no point in showing him my beer-token. ‘This is Inspector Lehnhoff and Sergeant Wurth. Who called it in?’

‘Me, sir.’ One of the cops moved toward me and saluted. ‘Sergeant Stumm.’

‘No relation, I hope,’ said Lehnhoff.

There had been a Johannes Stumm who had been forced to leave the political police by Fat Hermann because he wasn’t a Nazi.

‘No, sir.’ Sergeant Stumm smiled patiently.

‘Tell me, Sergeant,’ I said. ‘Why did you think that this might be a murder and not a suicide or an accident?’

‘Well, it’s true, stepping in front of a train is a most popular way to kill yourself these days,’ said Sergeant Stumm. ‘Especially if you’re a woman. Me, I’d use a firearm if I wanted to kill myself. But women aren’t as comfortable with guns as men are. Now with this victim, all of the pockets have been turned inside out, sir. It’s not something you’d do if you were planning to kill yourself. And it’s not something that a train would normally take the trouble to do, either. So that lets out it being an accident, see?’

‘Maybe someone else found him before you did,’ I suggested. ‘And just robbed him.’

‘A copper maybe,’ offered Wurth.

Wisely Sergeant Stumm ignored the suggestion.

‘Unlikely, sir. I’m pretty sure I was the first on the scene. The train driver saw someone on the track as he started to gain speed out of Jannowitz. He hit the brakes but by the time the train stopped it was too late.’

‘All right. Let’s have a look at him.’

‘Not a pretty sight, sir. Even in the dark.’

‘Believe me, I’ve seen worse.’

‘I’ll take your word for that, sir.’

The uniformed sergeant led the way along the track and paused for a moment to switch on his flashlight and illuminate a severed hand that lay on the ground. I looked at it for a minute or so before we walked on to where another police officer was waiting patiently beside a collection of ragged clothes and mangled human remains that had once been a human being. For a moment I might have been looking at myself.