‘Commissioned?’

‘Sergeant.’ I heard him smile.

‘I was a major,’ he said, and that was me put firmly in my place. ‘And you became a policeman after the war?’

‘No, not right away. I was a civil servant for a while, but I couldn’t stand the routine. I didn’t join the force until 1922.’

‘And when did you leave?’

‘Listen, Herr Doktor, I don’t remember you putting me on oath when I got into the car.’

‘I’m sorry,’ he said. ‘I was merely curious to discover whether you left of your own accord, or…’

‘Or was pushed? You’ve got a lot of forehead asking me that, Schemm.’

‘Have I?’ he said innocently.

‘But I’ll answer your question. I left. I dare say if I’d waited long enough they’d have weeded me out like all the others. I’m not a National Socialist, but I’m not a fucking Kozi either; I dislike Bolshevism just like the Party does, or at least I think it does. But that’s not quite good enough for the modern Kripo or Sipo or whatever it’s called now. In their book if you’re not for it you must be against it.’

‘And so you, a Kriminalinspektor, left Kripo,’ he paused, and then added in tones of affected surprise, ‘to become the house detective at the Adlon Hotel.’

‘You’re pretty cute,’ I sneered, ‘asking me all these questions when you already know the answers.’

‘My client likes to know about the people who work for him,’ he said smugly.

‘I haven’t taken the case yet. Maybe I’ll turn it down just to see your face.’

‘Maybe. But you’d be a fool. Berlin has a dozen like you private investigators.’ He named my profession with more than a little distaste.

‘So why pick me?’

‘You have worked for my client before, indirectly. A couple of years ago you conducted an insurance investigation for the Germania Life Assurance Company, of which my client is a major shareholder. While the Kripo were still whistling in the dark you were successful in recovering some stolen bonds.’