‘Very true,’ said Gerhard, ‘but listen. Those were good men, and there are thousands more like them. So whatever we do with this company, and whoever we sell it to, none of our people must end up unemployed. Do you hear me? Not one.’

An hour later, the family were taking coffee in a small sitting room when Saffron approached Gerhard and Isidore, who were chatting about the upcoming Olympics in Helsinki.

‘I’m sorry for breaking in,’ she said. ‘But it seems to me that there’s one important matter arising from this morning’s meeting that we really need to discuss.’

‘Go on . . .’ Isidore said, with the air of a man who knew what was coming next.

‘It’s Konrad. He’s like a ghost hanging over everything. We don’t know if he’s alive or dead. If he’s alive, we don’t know where he is, or what he’s doing, or even what he’s stolen from everyone else. We have to find out.’

‘Maybe,’ said Gerhard. ‘But do you really want to go looking for him?’ He gazed into Saffron’s eyes. ‘You have never met Konrad, but if you did, you would see at once that this is a man driven by hate, like other people are driven by desire for money, or fame, or sex. And I think that Francesca has become like him. I saw it in their eyes when they came to my trial. They wanted me to suffer. That was all that mattered to them. I don’t want you to become their enemy, too.’

‘I already am,’ said Saffron. ‘In Francesca’s eyes, I stole the man she loved from her when I fell in love with you. And my father took Konrad’s father Otto from him.’

‘If you know that these people hate you, Saffron, is that not an argument for leaving them alone?’ Isidore asked. ‘Gerhard was telling me how much you long for a peaceful life. Konrad is a very dangerous man. If we begin a serious search for him, who knows how he might react?’

‘Yes, there’s a risk,’ Saffron said. ‘But it’s one we have to take. We won’t have peace until we deal with Konrad. We should talk about that. We need to make a plan.’

‘Very well then, we will talk,’ Isidore said. ‘But not in Germany. Even now, you know, I don’t feel entirely safe. There are people here for whom nothing has changed. But I will be back in Zurich this weekend. Perhaps then . . .?’

‘Fine,’ said Saffron. ‘Zurich it is.’

The Mau Mau had yet to strike at their colonial rulers, yet the idea of their presence somewhere out there, watching, waiting, preparing to strike, had spread fear like a viral epidemic, infecting the entire white population. People were demanding that something must be done, though no one knew quite what. The authorities could not strike back at an enemy they could not see. But as the cries for action grew stronger it was decided that a Special Constabulary would be formed.