‘Great – so I can go and enjoy the town then, take a bracing walk maybe?’

‘Yes, wander round the place and visit bars just like you did in Munich. And while you’re at it, don’t forget to tell whoever’s listening that you were in the Gestapo, and that you were known as the Ferret: I’m sure they will admire you all the more.’ Ulrich paused and pointed his cigarette at the younger man. ‘I don’t think you have any idea how dangerous things are for us now in Europe. We are all at great risk. Just because the Americans and the British aren’t quite as brutal as the Soviets doesn’t mean the situation is any less perilous. They may not rape our women, but… Why are you laughing?’

‘Because it sounds as if they’ve made rape legal. Maybe there’s something to be said for them after all!’

‘For heaven’s sake, Friedrich, you’re impossible. I was trying to explain that we’re still in great danger here. If you’re caught, they’ll throw the book at you. I doubt your father will be able to come to your rescue then. You don’t appreciate how fortunate you are that he’s sorting out an escape line for you. Very few are able to get on one of those. You need to be grateful he’s made arrangements. And you need to be patient too.’

Friedrich walked over to the window and opened the shutters to peer onto the quiet tree-lined avenue in front of the house. The previous day had been notable because five vehicles had driven past during the morning. Today he’d heard none. He closed the shutters and returned to the sofa, determined to be more conciliatory with Ulrich. He lit another cigarette for him and poured a beer; it was the only alcohol Ulrich would allow him to have, and even then he restricted him to three bottles a day.

‘I’ve been here how long now, Ulrich – at least two months? And nothing’s happened. I’m going to be forgotten about. I thought you were meant to be making plans – I mean, does my father know I’m still here?’

‘Of course he does, and yes, I am making plans, but these things take time. I have to be very careful – it’s not something we can rush into.’

‘But in Munich I heard all these stories about organised escape routes from the Reich.’

‘I’m afraid the Reich no longer exists.’

‘You know what I mean – escape routes through Europe into Italy. I met a man in Munich who told me he was an SS Obersturmbannführer and that he was going to Genoa, from where a boat would take him to South America and—’

‘I very much doubt that a genuine SS Obersturmbannführer would confide in a stranger like that, in Munich or anywhere else for that matter.’

‘He told me in confidence, Ulrich.’

‘Even if it’s true, Obersturmbannführer is a very senior rank. The escape lines that exist are for senior Nazis – SS, party officials, people suspected of major war crimes… To be blunt, Friedrich, you don’t qualify on any of those grounds, which is why you’re so lucky your father’s sorting something out for you. What’s the highest rank you reached in the Gestapo?’