As he followed the big SS man into the building, Vanderberg saw that Romy was now just one place away from the checkpoint. He wanted to smile at her, to reassure her, but he couldn’t communicate with her in any way without endangering them both. The hut was warmed by a pot stove, that steamed up the windows and made him sweat even more. Vanderberg knew the game was up, that he wouldn’t be leaving Germany any time soon. If only he’d left a day or two earlier, everything might have been OK. He stood by the window as the SS man put a telephone call through, occasionally looking his way.

The call took several minutes. At last he put the phone down.

‘I am sorry, Herr Vanderberg, but your exit visa is indeed cancelled. You are to be escorted back to Berlin. Did you leave any further luggage on the train?

‘No, just this bag. I travel light.’

‘Please take a seat while an escort is found for you.’

‘Are you serious? I’ve got to take that damned train all the way back to Berlin?’

‘I’m afraid so – it’s out of my hands.’

‘Then so be it. Can I at least phone the chargé at the embassy? Let him know what’s going on.’

‘I’ll take advice on that.’

Jim Vanderberg demisted the centre of the window with his hand, then glanced out at the long line of people hoping to succeed where he had failed. He almost gasped with pleasure. Romy was through. She was in Switzerland. She was free. He felt like crying with relief. He wanted to shout out loud. Instead he smiled and chuckled. The bemused SS man shook his head and shrugged.

*

‘Gott in bloody Himmel, Tom, I’m sorry. I never intended to get anyone into a situation like this! I thought it would be all so easy.’

‘We’re still alive, Sunny.’

‘I should take the other oars, but my stomach . . .’

She lurched towards the side and tried to puke again.

‘Don’t worry about the oars, Sunny. You look after yourself and Klara. I’m OK.’

He was about to say that he had had a good feed, but it was probably the last thing she wanted to hear in her current condition.

The trawler and the E-boat had long since disappeared into the lashing rain and sleet. Wilde had been rowing for an hour now, studying the compass, but without sight of land, he couldn’t know for certain where they were heading. It was all very well being told in which direction to row, it was quite another actually holding a course amid the surging waves.

At least he felt the storm was easing a bit; it definitely wasn’t getting any worse and he no longer feared they would capsize. The wind had dropped considerably and the rain wasn’t whipping into his face quite so fiercely.