The Hôtel du Louvre on the rue de Rivoli was older than the Lutetia but not dissimilar, with four façades and several hundred rooms; with an international reputation for luxury, it was a natural choice for the Gestapo and the SD. Security was every bit as tight as at the Lutetia, and we were obliged to sign in at a makeshift guardroom inside the front door. An SS orderly escorted us through the lobby and up a sweeping staircase to the public rooms, where the SD had established some temporary offices. Kestner and I were ushered into a tasteful salon with a rich red carpet and a series of hand-painted murals. We sat down at a long mahogany table and waited. A few minutes passed before three SD officers entered the room—one of whom I recognized.

The last time I had seen Herbert Hagen had been in 1937 in Cairo, where he and Adolf Eichmann were attempting to make contact with Haj Amin, the Grand Mufti of Jerusalem. Hagen had been an SS sergeant then and a rather incompetent one. Now he was a major and aide to Colonel Helmut Knochen, who was a lugubrious officer of about thirty—about the same age as Hagen. The third officer, also a major, was older than the other two, with thick, horn-rimmed glasses and a face that was as thin and gray as the piping on his cap. His name was Karl Bömelburg. But it was Hagen who took charge of the meeting and came swiftly to the point without any reference to our former meeting. That suited me just fine.

“General Heydrich has ordered us to provide you with all available assistance in visiting the refugee camps at Le Vernet and Gurs,” he said. “And in facilitating the arrest of a wanted communist murderer. But you will appreciate that these camps are still under the control of the French police.”

“I was led to believe that they would cooperate with our extradition request,” I said.

“That’s true,” said Knochen. “Even so, under the terms of the armistice signed on June 22 those refugee camps are in the non-occupied zone. That means we have to pay lip service to the idea that in that part of France, at least, they remain in charge of their own affairs. It’s a way of avoiding hostility and resistance.”

“In other words,” said Major Bömelburg, “we get the French to do our dirty work.”

“What else are they good for?” said Hagen.

“Oh, I don’t know,” I said. “The food at Lapérouse is quite spectacular.”

“Good point, Captain,” said Bömelburg.