Which brings us to 1941. It seems Martin Bormann has discovered the trail. And he’s closing in on little Klara. There may already have been deaths. That’s where you come in, Tom. You’ve got to get her out of the country to safety. But that has been arranged – and you will have assistance.

Wilde looked at Vanderberg open-mouthed. So this was ‘the package’.

‘Finished, Tom? Good coffee, huh?’

‘Extraordinary.’

Vanderberg gathered up the papers, struck a match and burnt them over a metal wastepaper bin, until they were nothing but blackened ashes. He opened a desk drawer and pulled out a small photograph of a girl. He turned it around so that Wilde could read the name Geli Raubal on the back, then handed the picture to Wilde to study.

The girl in the picture had a warm, friendly face with a little mischief in her smiling eyes. She didn’t have movie star good looks, but there was a sexual magnetism there, a sense that here was a girl who liked a good time, and all that that entailed. Jim Vanderberg took the picture back and replaced it in the drawer.

‘What are you doing for the rest of the day, Tom?’

‘Well, to be honest I’ve got time to kill, so I was going to do the tourist thing.’

‘I’ve got a better idea. George Kennan, our administrative officer, has offered me the use of his sailboat which he keeps out on the Havel at Wannsee – that’s Potsdam way. It’s going to be a fine afternoon. Want to come out with me, like the old days? Probably my last chance before winter sets in. We can chat some more. Shoot the breeze properly.’

‘You’re mad, Jim. Sailing in December?’

‘Where’s your sense of adventure? We can drive out there by way of my apartment. I’ve got spare waterproofs. I seem to remember we wear the same size shoes. You’ll be fine.’

‘And we can do this in the middle of a war?’

‘Why not, Tom? Life goes on.’

CHAPTER 6

Wilde wandered back to the Adlon, hands in pockets, as casually as though he were strolling through the streets of Cambridge. He checked in with Offenbach and told him he was going sightseeing in the afternoon.

‘I would very much like to accompany you, sir. I could show you the best that Berlin has to offer.’

‘I’m sure you could, but I have other plans.’

Offenbach gave a stiff nod of the head. ‘As you wish, Herr Esser. Won’t you at least join me for lunch first?’

Was it wise to alarm this man any more than necessary? Probably not.

‘OK,’ Wilde said. ‘But just something light. An omelette, perhaps.’

Offenbach’s shoulders relaxed. His relief was evident.

‘I’m sure the Adlon chef could manage that. Now tell me, did you meet your old friend in the embassy?’

‘I sure did.’

‘He must have been surprised to see you.’

‘That’s an understatement.’

‘And a little suspicious, perhaps?’

‘If he was, he was too much the gentleman to show it. To tell the truth, Herr Offenbach, I don’t care – I’ll deal with all that when I get home. Or who knows, I might decide to stay here for the duration if my negotiations go well – and if you’ll have me. Get my wife and kids shipped over. Germany is increasingly looking like the safest place in the world. Do you think the Reich would allow me to stay?’