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his garages to fix their cars! He’s been here longer than I have!’

‘He’s still Wilhelm Müller,’ Declan insisted. ‘And I’m going to question him and get him to admit it. Then I’ll get him to admit to the murders of Nathanial Wing and Rolfe Müller, to start with.’

‘And how will you do that?’ Freeman shook his head. ‘You going to beat it out of him? You’re known for punching suspects almost as much as killing them!’

Declan bit his tongue.

‘I’ve seen Monroe’s report too,’ Freeman muttered. ‘I know he has friends in high places. Kept in the loop, remember?’

‘You gave me a day,’ Declan reminded.

‘A bloody mistake, it seems!’

‘My mistake to make,’ Declan replied. ‘Not my teams. You just saw Doctor Marcos advise against it.’

‘You’re risking your career for this?’ Freeman was genuinely surprised. ‘Because that’s what you’re doing here. If Schnitter raises a complaint, or if some agency kicks off about us harassing an asset for murders he didn’t commit, or can’t be proven to have committed, you’re finished.’

‘Let’s see what happens by the end of the interview,’ Declan gave a smile, but it was an uncertain one, mainly because Declan wasn’t confident that he could do this. Freeman muttered to himself, half-mumbled words that sounded more like expletives, and nodded.

‘Last ball, Declan,’ he said. ‘One more strike and you’re out.’

And with a final shake of his head, Freeman walked through the doors at the end of the corridor, leaving Declan alone.

‘A baseball reference?’ Declan muttered. ‘You could have at least made it bloody cricket.’

Karl Schnitter was sitting in Interview Room 3 when Declan entered through the door. He was relaxed, smiling even as he leaned back in the chair, feet on the table, whistling to himself. PC De’Geer was standing by the wall, but when he saw Declan enter, he nodded and left the room, leaving Declan and Karl alone.

‘You’re pretty chipper for a man who just heard of a violent death,’ Declan said as he sat down in the chair facing Karl who took his feet off the table, straightening up in his chair as he faced his opponent, as if starting a chess game.

‘The man was hunting me,’ he said. ‘Why should I not be happy?’

‘What about the fact that Wilhelm Müller may have killed him, meaning that not only is Wilhelm still alive, but now may be targeting you?’

‘That is indeed a concern,’ Karl replied with the face of a man who didn’t seem concerned. ‘But I am sure you will save me.’ He smiled. ‘You save all the innocent people.’

Declan looked to the recorder at the end of the table. ‘The moment I turn that on this becomes official,’ he stated. ‘So before I do that, is there anything that you want to get off your chest?’

‘I am fine, Declan. Let us get on with this. Anything I can do to help.’

‘Is that you offering your help as Karl Schnitter, or as Hauptmann Müller?’ Declan asked, happy to see a flicker of surprise on Karl’s face. ‘We’ve been talking to some old soldiers. They had quite a few stories.’

‘I’d like to hear them,’ Karl said, the surprise now gone. Declan smiled.

‘Good, because I’ve got a great one for you,’ he replied as he pressed record. ‘Although you might really hate the ending.’

25

Inter-Viewed

‘The time is seven fifty-five, DI Walsh interviewing Karl Schnitter, AKA Karl Meier, AKA Wilhelm Müller.’

‘Alleged,’ Karl smiled.

‘Are you saying that you’re not Hauptmann Wilhelm Müller, formerly of the Grenztruppen, and stationed in Berlin before the fall of the Berlin Wall?’

There was a long moment of silence, as Karl considered the question. Declan wondered if he was working through scenarios in his head, deciding what the best option was to take, again like a chess player in a competition.

‘For the record, Mister Schnitter is not replying.’

‘I am thinking,’ Karl replied, and for the first time Declan heard irritation in his voice. ‘It is something I have hidden for a long time, my actual name, and I am aware of the diplomatic, or legal ramifications I create by admission.’

‘Is that a confirmation?’ Declan pushed. He wondered if this was the play Karl had to try for; to give up the truth of his identity while avoiding anything to do with The Red Reaper.

Karl nodded at this. ‘I thought you would find out,’ he replied. ‘I forget how good a detective you are. Much better than your father.’

‘You don’t get to mention my dad,’ Declan hissed. ‘You don’t get to say his name ever again.’

‘He was my friend, Declan,’ Karl replied, calm once more. ‘No matter what you think of me, he understood.’

‘You told him you were Müller?’

‘Yes,’ Karl said, looking directly at Declan as he spoke. ‘He asked for my advice when Dotty Brunel committed suicide. He recognised the symbol of the Ampelmännchen, and when I saw it, I recognised the symbol of my old unit.’

‘A symbol that you designed, after they named you the Reaper, correct?’

‘No,’ Karl shook his head. ‘Command created it, to strike fear into dissidents. The Reapers, the Wolves, the Inquisitors, all units named to scare.’

Declan stopped, watching the completely calm Karl. He was creating a new narrative right here, right now. One that made him into the victim.

Doctor Marcos and Freeman had been right. Declan was out of his depth here.

‘Why did they call you the Reapers?’ he asked.

‘Because we killed escapees,’ Karl admitted. ‘It was our job. But I always tried to save them. I would flip a coin, give them a fighting chance. In fact, over a dozen people escaped because of that coin.’

‘I heard you had a fake coin, one that always benefited you.’

‘Lies, spread by a guard that hated me.’

‘Meier?’

Karl nodded. ‘He wanted me removed. He was sleeping with my wife. Having me moved or even arrested for atrocities I never committed would have enabled him to be more open.’

‘From what I heard, he was pretty bloody open.’

‘Only at the end,’ Karl replied. ‘When Rolfe was three, maybe four years

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