One policeman stood guard outside the front of the building, also keeping watch on Goebbels’s propaganda ministry next door. He made no attempt to stop Wilde from entering the embassy. Nor did the doorman. Wilde turned to shake hands with Offenbach.

‘I will see you at lunch perhaps, Herr Esser,’ the German said.

Wilde had loosened his tie. He was enjoying the cool autumnal air on his neck. He smiled at his escort. Could this confident official of the Nazi regime really be as confused and deflated as he seemed, as if he didn’t know quite what to make of the American visitor? Wilde gave him a questioning look.

‘Why don’t you come in with me?’ he said, as certain as he could be that Offenbach would decline the invitation. ‘I’m sure you’d be very welcome – you’re not at war with us, you know.’

‘No, I will wait for you at the Adlon.’

‘Could be hours. I may have lunch here. We’ll see.’ Wilde took pity on the man. ‘Look, buddy, I know this isn’t easy for you. But the Reichsminister said I should enjoy your fine city, and I intend to do so. This is just my first stop – I don’t need my hand held.’

Offenbach stared at him, unsmiling, for several seconds, then clicked his heels together, stiffened his spine and threw out his right arm.

‘Heil Hitler!’ he said.

*

Wilde told reception that he was an American citizen, Tomas Esser, and that he wished to speak with Mr James Vanderberg. After a brief internal phone call, an ancient and tortoise-slow porter showed him upstairs and along a corridor to a large office. As the door opened, Jim immediately got up from behind his desk, thanked the porter and bustled him out, closing the door after him.

‘Tomas Esser, old buddy, it’s wonderful to see you. What in God’s name are you doing in Berlin?’

He immediately put a finger to his lips, and indicated various points in the room which Wilde took to be the locations of concealed microphones, then embraced his old friend.

‘Oh, you know, I like to turn up in curious places. Never liked bandwagons – if everyone else is going one way, I go the other. Sorry if I gave you a shock.’

‘Shock’s only the half of it. Don’t get a lot of visitors here these days. Well, I’m damned, it’s been years.’

‘Too many, Jim.’

‘I’ll say. How’s the motorbike business? Come on, spill the beans – what exactly are you doing here, Tom? You didn’t come for your health, old man – bombs have been falling hereabouts.’

‘I’m on holiday.’

‘That won’t wash, Tom. I know you too well.’

‘Nothing illegal – beyond that I’d rather not say.’

Vanderberg sighed audibly. ‘Have it your own way. I’ll let it ride for the moment, but you know our top men here might inquire a little more deeply. Until then, it’s just damned good to see you. Coffee?’

‘Is it real?’