‘Ask her about Dijon.’ It was the first time Prince had spoken, and Lefebvre raised her eyebrows.

‘Ah, yes – he was involved in a case in Dijon where he raped a British agent and then shot her dead.’

A slight narrowing of the eyes as if this had rung a bell, but still Lefebvre said nothing as she finished her cigarette.

‘Let me say this.’ Prince was speaking in a friendly manner, smiling at her. ‘I think I understand your situation. You may well have been junior in the Gestapo, but I find it very hard to believe that in the nearly three years you worked for them, you never came across that nickname.’

Lefebvre shrugged. Hanne lit another cigarette for her.

‘But you are probably wondering whether we’re telling you the truth – whether if you give us the information, we really will ensure your charge will be reduced. Is that the case?’

Lefebvre nodded.

‘You’re not exactly in a position to bargain with us. If you know anything, tell us and we can assess how helpful it is. After all, your life is at stake – why should you risk it to protect a Gestapo officer who’s probably living it up somewhere?’

Anna Lefebvre ran her fingers through her hair in a more agitated manner and sighed as she looked up at the ceiling. ‘He didn’t work at rue de Saussaies.’

‘So you had heard of him?’

‘I heard this nickname but I don’t know his real name. He had a reputation for being both violent and incompetent. I think when he first came to Paris he was based at Avenue Foch, but then he was moved. As you know,’ she looked at them, ‘or maybe you don’t, each of the twenty arrondissements in Paris has its own town hall, a mairie. The Gestapo had an office in each mairie. If my memory serves me correctly, this Ferret character was based in the mairie of the 15th arrondissement. That is all I can tell you.’

Marguerite started to speak, but Hanne placed a hand on her arm to stop her and whispered in English, ‘Tell her that’s not good enough. She’s no fool. She’s obviously holding something back.’

‘Did you understand that, Lefebvre?’

The woman nodded her head.

‘We need something more than that.’

Her shoulders dropped as if in resignation.

‘Ask Charles Girard… and give the bastard my regards.’

Chapter 9

Paris, September 1945

No one in the mairie of the 15th arrondissement admitted that they’d heard of a Charles Girard or come across a blue-eyed blonde German who answered to the nickname of the Ferret. No one even knew about a Gestapo bureau in the building.

There was much shaking of heads. Try rue de Saussaies – number 11.

‘No, we understand this man worked here, in the mairie.’

Of the 15th? Not possible.

‘Are you certain – we were told the Gestapo did have an office here: perhaps a small one?’

More shaking of heads. Avenue Foch – that was Gestapo too, have you tried there?