The visitor said nothing, merely stirred his coffee and kept his eyes fixed on the priest, waiting like a hyena.

‘What can I say, sir?’ Huber realised he was babbling, but he could not work out whether it was better to be silent or garrulous. ‘If there was such a person baptised here, she is not here now. I know every boy and girl in the village, you see. No, no one of that name. Never to my knowledge. Really, your time has been wasted, Herr Kalt.’

‘Oh, my time is nothing. I have all the time in the world. My instructions are to find her at all costs, given the importance of my mission. So I will be staying in the village for the foreseeable future, talking to everyone. Perhaps you would continue to rack your brains, Father. I am sure it will all come back to you in due course, for I have seen the baptism certificate and it is clear that you carried out the ceremony.’

Huber could feel his heart pumping, his lungs and throat constricting.

‘No, I am sure I would remember.’

‘Check the register. You’ll see I’m right. Ten years is not so long ago that you can have completely forgotten.’ He drank his coffee, rose from the table and held up his hand in farewell. ‘My thanks for your hospitality. The coffee was excellent. I will see you again soon, I am sure.’

And then he was gone.

*

For a full minute, Peter Huber was transfixed with terror and indecision. These past ten years he had feared this day would come, and now it had. What to do? Men like Kalt did not simply accept a denial, shrug their shoulders and go away empty-handed.

He could not deal with this alone. His hand trembled as he picked up the telephone and asked the operator for a number in Berlin – a number he had not called for years and had intended never to call again.

The phone seemed to ring for an age. He was about to hang up when it was answered.

‘Hello?’ A sleepy voice. Not yet dawn.

‘Frau Dietrich?’

‘Who is this, please? Do you know what time it is?’

‘Father Huber. You know, from Braundorf . . . Peter Huber.’

Silence.

‘Frau Dietrich, are you there?’

‘Peter, did you really give the operator this number?’ The woman’s voice was wide awake now, and incredulous. ‘And you just said my name!’

‘I didn’t know what to do. There is a man here, asking after Klara. He says he is a lawyer with a bequest for her. But I think he is Gestapo. I thought you needed to know.’

‘God in Heaven, Peter, how could you do such a thing – call me like this?’ He heard a deep groan. ‘Oh, Peter, it’s closing in now. You have to get out of there – fast. Don’t call me again.’

The line went dead.

*

Get out fast? How could he get out at all? It would be hard enough to leave the church and the village – but to abandon Trudchen was unthinkable and he could not ask her to go on the run with him; she knew nothing of this.