‘A surprising number of slave labourers, my lady – hundreds of them actually: you’d have thought they’d have avoided that area, but maybe the RAF aren’t as smart as the Luftwaffe! Ah well…’

But still she didn’t give up. She returned the next Sunday and the following Tuesday and Friday. On Friday she was questioned by a Gestapo officer at the checkpoint. He was respectful enough, but quite twitchy and not entirely trusting of her answers.

It was now more than two weeks after the raid. She had to conclude that Agent Laertes had been killed, which was very sad, but now she had to think of herself.

Her visits to Usedom appeared to be arousing suspicion.

She must return to Berlin.

Back in Greifswald, she explained to the orphanage that she had received distressing news about her husband and was going home. She used the weekend to pack up the villa and prevail upon Oberführer Hausser to allow her enough fuel to get back to Berlin. On Sunday night, she retrieved the Englishman’s Danish and German identity cards from their hiding place and burnt them.

She left Greifswald at first light on the Monday and was in Berlin that afternoon. A letter from Karl-Heinrich had arrived that morning and was waiting on the beautifully polished hall table with ivory inlays that he’d stolen from the Goldmanns. She managed to send a detailed message to London: the raid appeared to have had limited success; many slave labourers had been killed; she feared the Englishman was one of them. They were not to expect to hear from her for a long while.

On Tuesday morning, she went to visit Konrad, her husband’s closest friend and fellow SS Brigadeführer. He’d been sent back from Stalingrad because of his injuries and was now working at SS headquarters.

‘We must regard no news as good news, Sophia. Karl-Heinrich is so smart, I’m sure if anyone can get out of there it’s him. You mark my words.’

‘But it sounds so unlikely, Konrad. Paulus surrendered over a month ago. Surely I’d have heard something by now.’

‘Don’t be defeatist, Sophia. But tell me, is there anything I can do for you?’

‘There is one small favour, Konrad. Karl-Heinrich told me that if anything ever happened to him – or even if it looked as if he might be in danger – I was to go to Zurich to collect some gold he has in a bank there and bring it back here. I think I should do that now, but I’ll need papers to allow me to leave the Reich and get into Switzerland.’

‘That’s not a small favour, Sophia, it’s—’