Another hitched lift, as uncomfortable as the flight and through a city with streets as ruined as Berlin’s, took him to US Military Headquarters.

‘I’m here to see Major Gleeson,’ he said when his identity papers had been inspected.

‘Is he civil affairs or military government affairs?’ the Magnum-toting officer asked.

‘Civil affairs,’ Max snapped, having done his homework on Chuck Gleeson before leaving Berlin.

There was much scrutiny of US paperwork before he was eventually advised that Major Gleeson was in Zone 2.

‘He’s only just arrived here,’ said the officer who tracked down the information, adding with a grin, ‘and he brought his own little German girl with him. He says she’s his interpreter.’ He gave Max a knowing wink. ‘If she is, she’s a darn sight prettier than the Brunnhilde battleaxes we’ve been foisted with.’

Max clenched his teeth, knowing that now was not the time and place to be entering into a confrontation and drawing undue attention to himself.

Taking his cap off and shaking the rain from it, he proceeded to follow the directions he’d been given for Zone 2.

There was a maze of annexes and corridors to navigate before he came to an office with ‘Major Charles Gleeson—Civil Affairs’ on it. The placard bearing the name had been taped to the door with what looked to have been more speed than care, and the door was wide open. Beyond it, a crew-cut American was unpacking boxes of documents.

Max eyed the pips on the American’s shirt and tucked his cap beneath his arm, well aware that the next few minutes might be a little tricky.

‘Major Gleeson? Major Max Remer, British Intelligence.’

Chuck Gleeson straightened up and faced him, an eyebrow quirking perplexedly.

‘Yes, Major. What can I do for you?’

‘This isn’t army business, Major Gleeson. It’s a personal matter,’ Max said, wondering who it was Chuck Gleeson reminded him of. ‘I believe Fräulein Lotti Remer, who acted as your interpreter in Berlin, is acting as your interpreter here, in Frankfurt?’

‘That’s correct.’ Chuck Gleeson frowned. ‘I don’t understand this “personal matter” stuff, Major. Could you be a little more explicit?’

Max breathed in hard, hoping to goodness Gleeson wasn’t going to cause waves when he knew why he had come. ‘Lotti Remer is my cousin,’ he said. Seeing no reason to beat about the bush, he added, ‘And she’s also the woman I shall be marrying in a few days’ time.’

Chuck Gleeson’s eyebrows rose in bafflement. ‘Your cousin? She can’t be. She’s German. Her file was very carefully checked over before she was engaged to work for me. She’s a Berliner, born and bred, though a Berliner with no background of Nazi activities. She was never a member of the Nazi Party. She wasn’t even a member of the girls’ section of the Hitler Youth.’

‘I know that because she is, as I said, my cousin. I was born in Berlin too.’

‘You were?’ Deeply intrigued, Chuck Gleeson forgot all about the boxes he’d been unpacking. ‘And so you’re the person Lotti was expecting to show up in Berlin? The person who was the reason for her originally refusing to transfer down here with me?’