‘Let’s hope he’s there.’

Since his last visit in June, the NKGB headquarters had been smartened up. Bemrose seemed annoyed when Prince told him to wait outside. They explained who they wanted to see and were shown to some seats, but less than five minutes later, there was a shout of joy and Prince looked up to see Iosif Gurevich bounding across the entrance hall towards them. The Russian grabbed him by the shoulders to look at him properly, and then enveloped him in a warm embrace, slapping him on the shoulder when he eventually released him. As he did so, he spotted Hanne.

‘Is this really you?’

She promised him it was, and tears streamed down his face. He kissed her on both cheeks and told her he’d done many good things in the war – along with one or two bad things, of course – but helping find her was undoubtedly the best.

‘Please, come with me. I imagine you want some favour?’

‘Why would that be the case, Iosif?’

‘Because why else would you come to this shithole?’

Iosif Leonid Gurevich occupied the same office where Prince had first met him, but he had some news, which he recounted with an air of considerable pride.

‘I’ve been promoted, my friends.’

‘Congratulations – to what?’

‘I’m now a commissar – a one-star commissar,’ he said, tapping the gold epaulettes on his green uniform.

‘Which means you’re a…’

‘A general! It was a big promotion, I didn’t expect it. They’re very pleased with how things have gone in Berlin. There have been some problems with discipline among our troops here and I’ve been effective in dealing with it; I seem to be able to get my way with you British especially – the Americans too. The French are more difficult, but… Imagine, after everything, a Jewish general in charge here in Berlin!’

The three of them laughed and Gurevich opened a bottle of German brandy and handed it round. They toasted his promotion, followed by a toast to peace between their nations, and when they told him they were now married, he poured more brandy and toasted that before going over to a wall piled high with boxes, oil paintings stacked alongside them.

‘Please, you must choose a wedding present.’

Eventually they got down to business. Speaking in German but dropping in the occasional word or phrase in Russian, Hanne explained everything. When she’d finished, the Russian nodded gravely and glanced at the notes he’d been making. ‘So this Alphonse Schweitzer is a prisoner of ours?’

‘Have you not come across him?’

‘Ha! Do you know how many Nazis we have in custody – thousands of them, literally thousands. We’re running out of prison space. If I’m honest with you, not all of those we’ve captured have gone through the system, so to speak. Many of them have been dealt with in a summary manner, much as they treated our troops they took prisoner. We’re processing the rest as fast as we can and sending most of them to camps in Siberia, so I wouldn’t know about an individual such as this. You’re certain he’s in Berlin?’