Free 1503954692 by Steve Robinson Page A

passers-by, looking back at him as if wondering what the upset was about.
    ‘They told me to go home, and to take you with me. They said if we didn’t they’d find me again.’ Jean paused, still shaking from the shock. ‘They said if we didn’t they were going to rape me. One of them started to pull my dress up, and then he laughed and they went.’
    Tayte shook his head. ‘Someone must have followed us after we left those offices earlier,’ he said, thinking that whoever it was, they hadn’t wasted any time in trying to warn him and Jean off asking questions about Volker Strobel. So much for leaving my business card , he thought.
    ‘Two of them had shaved heads,’ Jean said. ‘I saw a few tattoos. The one with the knife who did all the talking had dark hair, and he had a black skull tattooed on one side of his neck with Nazi SS Sieg runes tattooed low on the other.’
    ‘He clearly wasn’t worried about you being able to identify him.’
    ‘No, and that’s what’s so frightening about it. They didn’t seem to give a damn.’
    ‘Neo-Nazis?’
    ‘I would imagine so.’
    ‘They’re cowards, whoever they were. Singling you out like that.’
    Jean reached into her jacket and pulled out a red-and-white-striped paper bag. ‘I bought you this,’ she said, handing it to him.
    Tayte removed the contents and it practically fell apart in his hands. It was a giant Hershey’s Mr Goodbar.
    Jean tried to laugh at it. ‘I know it’s your favourite,’ she said. ‘I couldn’t believe it when we passed the shop and you hadn’t noticed.’ Jean pointed to a small shop front behind them with the words Welt der Schokolade —world of chocolate—above the window. ‘They sell chocolate from all over the world. I’m sorry it’s broken. It must have happened when they shoved me against the wall.’
    A part of Tayte wished the people who had done this to Jean were there now, but the sensible part of him hoped they never came within a hundred feet of Jean again.
    ‘Come on,’ he said. ‘We passed a taxi rank soon after we left the palace. We’ll go to the police and report what’s happened, and then we’ll go and check in at the hotel. We’ve got some serious decisions to make.’

Chapter Eight
    Tayte and Jean were staying at the Hilton Munich City hotel, which was located close to the city centre to the southeast. Tayte preferred the anonymity of larger establishments, where you didn’t have to share a table at breakfast with anyone, or get into small talk over dinner with the other guests. It was a failing of his, he knew that, but it was how he liked it and Jean didn’t seem to mind.
    Their visit to the local police station had been perfunctory at best, but they had reported the incident and Jean had described her attackers to them. There was little the police said they could do, and they seemed to take a less serious view of the incident when they knew Jean had not been physically harmed in any way. They ate as soon as they had checked into the hotel and had dropped their bags off in their room, although Jean had had little appetite. She’d given most of her meal to Tayte, and she’d spent the remainder of their short time in the hotel restaurant pushing the rest of her food around her plate, clearly deep in thought. Tayte had supposed she was going over what had happened, trying to decide whether she wanted to go on or go home.
    They found a table in the hotel’s Metropolis cocktail bar and lounge and sat down with two large glasses of Jack Daniel’s on ice.
    ‘Cheers,’ Tayte said, and they both took a big sip. ‘Welcome to Munich,’ he added with more than a hint of sarcasm.
    Jean settled back in her seat. ‘At least we learned something after we left Johann Langner at the hospital.’
    ‘We did?’
    Jean nodded. ‘His old wartime friend, Volker Strobel, must still be alive. Why else would Die Freunde der Waffen-SS Kriegsveteranen send a gang of neo-Nazi thugs to warn us off?’
    ‘Hey,