Tom Gilbey had reluctantly remained in the safe house in Wilmersdorf. He’d thought about coming to the east of the city to meet Gurevich but decided it wasn’t worth the risk of exposing himself. He was as upset as Prince and Hanne were at the news of Franz Rauter’s death, but soon turned his attention to Friedrich Steiner.

‘At least we now know who the Ferret is, so we should be able to pick him up soon enough. Now that his name’s on our watch lists, it should only be a matter of time before we find him.’

Both Hanne and Prince looked surprised at his optimism.

‘What do you make of the note on the file about the Kestrel escape line?’ Prince asked.

‘May be something in it – but then where on earth do you start?’

‘Frankfurt? That seems to be the first place mentioned. Perhaps we should…’ Prince stopped himself.

‘Perhaps you should what?’

‘Nothing, sir, just a thought.’

‘Which was?’

‘I was going to suggest that maybe Hanne and I ought to go to Frankfurt; there might be some kind of clue there about Steiner and the Kestrel escape line.’

‘I think that’s a good idea.’ Hanne looked interested. ‘We came over here to find the Ferret: I never like leaving a case only half investigated for someone else to solve.’

‘Very well then: you can go to Frankfurt – but only for a few days, and then that’s it. I’d imagine you’d want to be getting home anyway, eh?’

Chapter 12

Frankfurt, Germany, October 1945

‘How much longer am I expected to remain in this prison?’

‘It’s hardly a prison, Friedrich – how many prisons have carpets, and pictures on the wall? Before the war this was a smart guest house.’

‘So you keep telling me, Ulrich – and one frequented by Jews: I imagine you chose it as some kind of joke?’

‘I know we had to get you out of Munich in a hurry, and Frankfurt didn’t feel much safer, to be honest, but this place does. And it’s ideal: it’s set apart from the neighbouring houses, so no one can see what’s going on, and because of the damage to the roof, the Americans won’t requisition it. Can you please take your feet off that table? People eat from it.’

The younger man gave the older one a dirty look, clearly resentful at being told what to do. ‘People! What, you’re planning to hold a dinner party, eh? At least I’d then have someone else to talk to. Maybe you could even invite a woman. Apart from you, I’ve not seen a soul for weeks.’

Ulrich asked Friedrich to light him a cigarette: it was an action he still struggled over with one arm. Friedrich lit one for himself first and took a few drags from Ulrich’s before passing it to him.

‘I keep telling you, Friedrich, you don’t appreciate how ideal this place is. Even though we’re just, what, ten, twelve miles north of Frankfurt, no one’s going to think of looking for Nazi fugitives here in Königstein. These Taunus mountain resorts have a reputation for being quiet and healthy.’