An hour later, Kiselyov returned and told him his tribunal had been arranged and he was being moved.

The two prisoners shook hands and wished each other luck, Schweitzer managing a whispered ‘Heil Hitler’ just before his new friend was led out.

Franz Rauter was taken to Orlov’s office, where Hanne and Prince were waiting for him. He greeted them both and gratefully accepted a glass of cognac and a cigarette from the governor.

‘The Ferret’s real name is Friedrich Steiner; he is the son of Wolfgang Steiner, who was a Nazi Party official here in Berlin. Funnily enough, his name rings a bell, but I never met him – as you know, I didn’t mix in those circles.’

Prince said how pleased they were, and Rauter finished his cognac and allowed the glass to be refilled, then asked whether they’d be leaving straight away. ‘The sooner I’m out of this place, the better.’

‘The governor thinks it would be safer if you’re kept here until after Schweitzer’s execution. If he somehow catches wind that you’re no longer around, he may suspect something and somehow get a message to his fellow Nazis. I know that’s unlikely, but it’s not impossible: this place is full of Nazis on the lookout for anything.’

‘And I should add that when he’s taken out to be shot, he will get to see a Catholic priest. You never know what he might say. It’s going to be safer to let you go after he’s been executed.’ The governor was speaking slowly, allowing Kiselyov to translate.

Rauter looked disappointed. ‘I’m not keen on staying here: this isn’t my idea of a holiday.’

‘Don’t worry,’ said the governor. ‘This afternoon I’ll tell Prisoner Schweitzer that his petition to Marshal Zhukov has been denied and he’s being executed in the morning. We’ll move him straight back to Block D. Once he’s dead, we’ll have you out of here.’

It was a mistake no one could have foreseen; a coincidence more than anything else, something that happened by chance and could be put down to sheer bad luck, though it was to have dreadful consequences.

Prince and Hanne left the brick building by a side entrance and paused in the doorway to say goodbye to Franz Rauter. They joked that this time tomorrow he’d be enjoying a fine lunch in the best restaurant in Berlin, and Rauter said they’d be lucky to find any restaurants left. There was much slapping of shoulders and laughter as he finished his cigarette and then allowed the guard to put him in handcuffs prior to the walk back to the block.

Watching all this from his cell window was a young SS major awaiting his tribunal, where he fully expected to be sentenced to death. Hauptsturmführer Klaus Böhme had been an aide to SS-Brigadeführer Walter Schellenberg when the latter had taken control of the much-distrusted Abwehr in July 1944. He had been appalled at the attitude of many of the Abwehr officers, some of whose loyalty he seriously doubted.