He’d moved to Berlin in the spring of 1938 after the Anschluss. Part of the idea had been to give a fresh start to Friedrich, who’d predictably continued to get into trouble in Vienna and only stayed out of prison thanks to his father’s growing influence once the Nazis came to power. Soon after arriving in Berlin, he met Martin Bormann, Hitler’s personal secretary, and when in 1941 Bormann became head of the Parteikanzlei – the Party Chancellery – he asked Steiner to join him. It suited him perfectly: an important job with a lot of influence but not necessarily a high profile, and one fitting his capacity for hard work. He began to develop an influential circle of acquaintances, people he was assiduous at keeping in touch with and doing favours for. He’d hesitate to call them friends; few people in Berlin were trusting enough of others to regard anyone as such. But Bormann had shown faith in him and afforded him status and respect, and he worked hard to repay that. Bormann was often described – though not to his face – as Hitler’s shadow, and soon Wolfgang Steiner became known as Bormann’s shadow. He recognised that as the fortunes of war began to turn against the Reich, being seen as the shadow’s shadow was a good reputation to have.

The enduring unfortunate aspect of Wolfgang Steiner’s life was his son, Friedrich. No one knew of his reputation when they arrived in Berlin, and he was sufficiently in awe of his surroundings at first to behave in an acceptable way. In 1939, he joined the SS; though he had failed the initial selection, his father knew who to speak to and he was given a second chance.

He only lasted a few months. A senior officer – a fellow Austrian, naturally – had a quiet word with Wolfgang: Friedrich was selective about which orders he chose to obey. Indeed, he even occasionally tried to give orders to his superiors. The officer suggested it would be less embarrassing all round if he left the SS before he inevitably faced a court martial.

Fortunately, Wolfgang had done a number of favours for the head of the Gestapo, Heinrich Müller, and he was persuaded to recruit Friedrich. After a spell at the Gestapo headquarters in Prinz-Albrecht Strasse, the young man was sent to Norway, a move engineered by his father, who felt it was a posting where he could do least damage.

It turned out to be a disaster. After a brawl with a local policeman, Friedrich was transferred – again thanks to his father’s intervention – to Denmark, where he served for just over a year and didn’t blot his copybook, assuming one ignored the unsolved murder of a fifteen-year-old girl found in an alley close to his apartment in Copenhagen.

Next Wolfgang managed to arrange for him to be transferred to Paris, the most desirable posting for any German officer. It wouldn’t be enough to stay out of trouble there; he’d also have to impress the Gestapo bosses, and that meant catching Allied spies and breaking up resistance groups.