The Carnival Master

4.

Fabel’s hotel room had the expected brightly coloured abstract print hanging on the wall. He sat on the edge of his bed and stared at it as if it would yield the knowledge or the strength to help him work out what to do next. His head ached. It was Vitrenko’s sheer arrogance that astounded him: grabbing a senior police officer on a busy street and demanding that he betray everything he believed in.

As Fabel stared at the painting, he thought of The Nightwatch hanging in his mother’s parlour; about how he had forgotten what he had seen in the painting as a small boy. The protection of others from harm.

Fabel knew what he had to do but dreaded doing it. It went against every instinct he had. He picked up the phone and dialled.

‘Hello, Ullrich, Fabel here. About the Vitrenko Dossier…’