CHAPTER 19
On the drive back to Wiesbaden, I recalled some work I had commissioned for the bank once upon a time – by a private investigation company. I found the number in my smartphone directory and called on the off-chance. Karl Bissing was still in business and at his old address. I turned the car around and drove back to Frankfurt.
His agency specialised in corporate crime. He was in his mid-forties, of medium height with every-day looks, wore non-descriptive clothing. There was nothing about him which stood out. But he had a sharp mind and plenty of experience, especially in the Frankfurt metropolitan area. He was born and grew up there. He spoke the local dialect and, with his appearance, could disappear in a crowd of one.
We chewed the cud for a while over mugs of coffee. As he
