‘No, he was definitely alone. His papers were in order – his name was Sable. Thomas Sable. I remember being a little surprised that his residence card gave an address in Potsdam. He said his mistress was waiting with the car. We offered to go with him and see if we could help him fix it – but then we saw the plane coming down and the parachutist baling out and so we rushed to make the arrest, as is our duty. The parachutist was already dead. We reported the burning plane to the nearby village. We helped the fire brigade, of course.’

Having started, he was now gabbling, talking too much, his eyes fixed on the firearm.

One of his comrades stepped out of the ranks.

‘There were others – two women, I think. One of them small.’

The leader turned on him.

‘What do you mean, Hamer? There was just the Frenchman, that’s all.’

Hamer was standing to attention. ‘No, forgive me for contradicting you, but I looked back after we had crossed the field. I saw the Frenchman joining the women at the edge of the wood on the other side of the railway line.’

Kalt took a photograph of Klara from his pocket. He had found it in the Riegers’ front room and had removed it from its silver frame. He held it in front of the boy’s eyes.

‘Was this one of them?’

‘It’s possible. They were some distance away, but it could be so.’

Kalt put the picture back in his pocket, then lifted the muzzle of the MP 40 and pointed it at Hamer.

‘Take me to Frau Spitzweg’s house. All of you. Now!’

*

Frau Spitzweg was beside herself with anger.

‘We have been robbed, sir. My daughter’s JM skirt and blouse and some of our precious bacon. Bread, too!’

‘And you didn’t see the man?’

‘No, but my husband’s old fool of a father saw the thief. He did nothing. I think he was too scared. God help the Fatherland if our men at the front are so fearful.’

‘And where is your husband?’

‘He has been called up to guard a PoW camp in Silesia, so I am left with his senile dolt of a father who does nothing but sleep and eat, piss and fart.’

‘And you have a daughter?’

‘Yes, Katharina.’

Frau Spitzweg was a desirable woman. She stood before him with an inviting expression, her arms crossed over her ample bosom, her hips tilted invitingly. At another time, Otto Kalt would have made it his business to get her into bed. With her husband away, she would be fair game, and looked worth the effort. Perhaps he would come back here one day soon and become acquainted properly. But not today.

‘Did he leave any clues? Did he say anything to your father-in-law?’