“I can’t help noticing that this plane has only five seats,” I told Bömelburg. “How am I supposed to get my prisoner back to Paris?”

“That all depends. If we manage to pick up Grynszpan and Mielke and some of these others, we may have to have the French deliver them first to Vichy and then apply to have them extradited across the border. At least that’s what Commissioner Matignon thinks. So he’s arranged for a French lawyer to meet us on the ground in Biarritz.”

“It’s already looking more complicated than we had supposed,” complained Kestner. “It turns out that this damned Kuhnt Commission isn’t supposed to go into the camps until the end of August. Of course, if we wait that long these commie Jew bastards might easily give us the slip. So we’re treading on eggshells at the moment. We’re not even supposed to be here.”

The flight, at least, was much less complicated, and for the last forty minutes of a journey that lasted just under two hours we hugged the coastline of France and the Bay of Biscay. From the air the city of Biarritz appeared to be exactly what it was: a luxurious-looking seaside town. It was a hot day and the resort was packed with people intent on having a good time in spite of the new German government. I hadn’t enjoyed the flight from Paris. There were too many potholes in the air for me to feel entirely comfortable with the experience of air travel. But when I saw the size of the waves rolling onto the banded agate that was the beach, I felt very glad I hadn’t traveled there by boat. Under the cliff tops that adjoined the sand the ocean was like the milk in one enormous frothy cappuccino. Just looking at it made me feel seasick, although in truth that probably had a lot more to do with what I’d just learned about the two Rudolfs. That really made me feel sick.

“Münzenberg I can understand,” I said. “Grynszpan, too. But why the Rudolfs?”

“Hilferding is one of these Jewish intellectuals,” said Bömelburg. “Not to mention the fact that he was the finance minister who was in league with other bankers who helped bring about the Great Depression. Anyway, it’s not our problem. It’s a French problem. A test of their Vichy government’s resolve to become a German ally. It’ll be interesting to see what happens. Why? Do you have any objections to his being arrested?”

For a moment the plane dropped like a faulty elevator car. I felt my stomach rise in my chest. I wanted to puke right in the major’s lap. He fumbled in his tunic and produced a hip flask.

“Me? No, I’m just an old-fashioned copper. You know? Shortsighted. I see all kinds of things and I never do anything about them.”