‘That will be in a couple of weeks,’ he told one of his colleagues. ‘It shouldn’t last more than a day.’

Manfred Lange had rather hoped he’d be allowed to go to Copenhagen to arrest this Otto Knudsen. He’d never been to Denmark and he fancied a trip there. He’d heard wonderful stories about Scandinavian women, and he was sure his Gestapo colleagues in Copenhagen would happily accommodate him in that respect: ‘blonde and very young’ would be his request.

He was also sure he’d be treated with a good deal of respect. He’d get to fly on a plane for the first time, would probably be picked up in a Horch, put up at the best hotel in the city and no doubt have an opportunity to impart his wisdom and advice to an appreciative local Gestapo, honoured by a visit from one of their colleagues from Berlin. Maybe he’d end up with a posting to somewhere agreeable.

To his disappointment, Lange remained in Germany. He had to pass on all the details of Otto Knudsen and Peter Rasmussen to the Gestapo in Copenhagen. At least he’d have the fun of dealing with them once they’d been sent back to Berlin.

In the Gestapo headquarters on Kampmannsgade in Copenhagen, there was some concern. When a job came from Berlin, it had top priority; they didn’t like to get it wrong. Otto Knudsen was no problem: they quickly identified where he lived on Nyhavn. But Peter Rasmussen was an altogether different matter. They could find no trace of him. They had his legitimationskort details from his travel documents, but the address in Vesterbro turned out to be a false one. They decided that the best way to find him was to keep an eye on Otto Knudsen, which they did for two days, following him to and from work, even searching his flat while he was out.

By then, the pressure from Berlin was becoming intolerable, and there was even talk of sending a team to take over from them, so they decided to give it one last chance in the hope that they’d also net Rasmussen. The plan was to follow Knudsen on his way to work one morning. If Rasmussen didn’t approach him en route, they’d arrest him at his office.

It was a wet Wednesday morning when Otto Knudsen entered the head office of Mortensen Machinery Parts and climbed to the top floor and along the corridor towards his office. As he did so, he saw his managing director coming towards him. As they drew close, his colleague – whom Otto thought looked quite unwell – muttered, ‘I’m so sorry, Otto,’ and then hurried on.

Before he could react, he spotted two men following in his boss’s wake. They were unmistakably Gestapo. When he turned round, there was no sign of his colleague, but two more Gestapo were now behind him.