‘Lacrosse stick.’

‘Isn’t that for girls?’

‘You obviously haven’t played it, Herr Doktor Todt.’

The Reichsminister laughed. ‘You Americans and your games! When will you stop playing and join the real world?’

*

Wilde realised he had gone into the meeting as good as naked. The truth was he had nothing to offer Todt except the vague promise of a good idea. The figures were invented, the proposal insubstantial – and it was an indication of Germany’s fuel shortage that Todt was willing to listen. If there was anything at all in the idea, even if the figures were over-egged, it would be transformative for the Third Reich.

For Wilde, the longer the meeting had gone on, the more he had sweated. As for the head wound, it had been caused by a bullet, an attempt on his life five years earlier. But that was not something he could tell Todt, for his very own regime had been behind the attack. Wilde took a deep breath. God, he was glad to be out in the fresh air.

Yes, he knew just about all there was to know about Tomas Esser. He had worked damned hard on every detail of the man. But that didn’t mean he couldn’t get caught out. Given Esser’s German background, it was also a horrifying possibility that Wilde might run into someone in this city who knew him. Or that Todt might know a mutual acquaintance.

Yes, he also knew about motorbikes. He could maintain one and strip it down if need be. He had even ridden an Esser Trautmann Brooklyn 650 for a couple of days in Massachusetts during his last visit to the States in 1939. He hadn’t liked it much. Todt was right – it was underpowered.

But the very idea of having to discuss complex technologies with Ferdinand Porsche was too much. Which meant Wilde had to move fast – get the package and somehow get out of this hellhole of a country.

CHAPTER 5

Romy Dietrich was carried in the back of a black delivery van deep into the farmlands and forests of northern Germany. She was bound, but not gagged. Otto Kalt sat on a bench seat watching her the whole time, while Brunner drove.

‘Frau Dietrich,’ Kalt said. ‘You know very well what I am looking for – who I am looking for. If you tell me now, it will save me time and you considerable pain.’

Romy swallowed. Deep down, she knew there was no hope, but she had to keep trying.

‘I think you have the wrong person.’

‘You are Romy Dietrich?’

‘But maybe there are others with the same name?’

‘Romy Dietrich, midwife at Friedrichshain hospital, home address in Kreuzberg, originally from Upper Austria.’

‘Yes, I am a midwife.’

‘Father Peter Huber called you from Braundorf on the day he died.’

Romy shuddered. Tears began to fall.

‘You seem upset, Frau Dietrich.’

‘Of course I am upset – I have been abducted.’

‘So it is not the death of Father Huber that distresses you?’