Dicte waited in the doorway, but he took his time. ‘Didn’t you used to know a Polish journalist? Back when you covered the election there?’ Bo glanced up at her for a quarter of a second before looking back at the screen and concentrating on the job at hand. Perhaps he wasn’t making a point. Perhaps he was genuinely preoccupied with picking out the very best photos to send to Avisen, but Dicte couldn’t help feeling like she was being punished. At length he finished and looked up at her. ‘Let me make sure I’ve got this right,’ he said and her skin began to tingle ominously. ‘First you identify a dangerous man both the police and PET are interested in, and then you make an amateurish attempt to tail him. You’re lucky you’re still in one piece. And you don’t tell anyone, least of all me.’ He took a deep breath. She wanted to say something in her defence, but she didn’t have time. ‘Then, God help us all, you tail him a second time, risking life and limb, only to learn that he’s meeting a couple of random mates in a pub.’ ‘I don’t think they were random mates,’ she cut in.
