‘That’s a fair criticism. I ride one myself, but then I’m not looking to race it. We sold a few in Germany. Not enough, I’m afraid. And since November 1938 it has been nigh on impossible to trade here.’

Todt was a handsome man. He wore a military uniform which Wilde couldn’t identify; it looked lived in, worn and a little shabby, rather than purely ceremonial. Todt was clearly not afraid to get his hands dirty. He had the look of a hard-driving foreman rather than a company chairman.

Wilde, by contrast, wore a tailored New York suit, made of fine wool. And a silk tie. He didn’t look scholarly today; he looked businesslike, and he didn’t feel entirely comfortable playing the part.

‘A shame,’ the Reichsminister said. ‘It is a machine of some quality. That’s why I was interested when you said you believed you might have something to offer us. By the way, who is Trautmann?’

‘Oh, he’s long deceased. He was my father’s partner. It’s fully Esser-owned now. No sense in changing the name, though.’

‘But you are not a big company?’

Wilde shook his head. ‘Not big enough. We have good products but not enough cash to expand as fast as we’d like.’

Todt’s office was an unpleasant room, full of heavy, dark furniture which did not match the practical air of the man who sat behind the dreadnought-like desk. Behind him – all-seeing perhaps? – was a painting of the Führer astride a horse, in the full armour of a knight of legend, complete with lance. Did Todt actually like the picture? Difficult to imagine of a man with such achievements, both civilian and military, to his name.

At Todt’s side, just at his shoulder, stood Offenbach, mostly silent but interpreting when necessary.

‘Now then,’ Todt said. ‘to business. What do you have to offer me – and how much do you want for it?’

Wilde sipped the coffee. This was the real deal. Strong, black and fresh-roasted. Just what he needed on this grim, grey morning.

‘I’m offering you fuel – gasoline.’

‘And you can ship that to Germany?’

‘No, I can’t do that. But there are many different ways of looking at a problem. Correct me if I’m wrong, Herr Doktor Todt, but you could do with a great deal more gasoline than you have. You may be winning the war in Russia, but your men and machines have to travel enormous distances.’

Todt frowned. ‘We have enough oil.’

‘OK, but you could always do with more. Word from the Russians is that your advance is stalling.’

‘Of course they would say that. You should not listen to such things.’

‘But if it was true, then what? They have an endless supply of men. They are building planes and tanks faster than you. So are the British. They both have greater fuel reserves than you, do they not? The longer this war goes on, the more you’re going to be stretched.’

‘Where do you hear this nonsense?’