They made their way onto the upper landing, with its two white-painted doors on either side, which they assumed must be bedrooms. Directly facing them, at the end of the landing, was an imposing archway framing two huge walnut doors. Vargas was instinctively drawn towards them and Hembury followed him along the corridor. The intricately carved gold door handles were totally incongruous with the rest of the door fittings in the house. Vargas reached inside his jacket to his shoulder holster for his Beretta. He nodded as Hembury slowly opened one of the doors.

A soon as they were inside, Hembury shut the door behind them and reached for the light switch. The room illuminated, and both men gasped at the disturbing sight that greeted them. It was a large pentagon, and all five walls were decorated with massive black-and-white photographs blown-up to ceiling height. They portrayed giant images of Hitler in a selection of animated poses, standing behind a raised podium with thousands of supporters in the foreground. The photos had been taken at the 1938 Nuremberg rally, which had been attended by over one million Germans.

The white marble floor was broken up by a huge red swastika in the centre. A number of glass-fronted cases and cabinets housed an assortment of Nazi memorabilia. Five marble plinths were symmetrically dotted around the room, supporting smaller items, including a First World War spiked helmet and a mounted copy of Mein Kampf. The centrepiece of the entire collection was a life-sized mannequin, fully kitted out in Hitler’s distinctive grey uniform, together with black boots and a three-inch wide brown leather belt, set off with a silver buckle. The left hand of the dummy held the Führer’s grey cap, edged with a brown leather trim.

Either side of the mannequin stood floor-mounted photo collages, featuring Hitler, Eva Braun, and their dogs, together with personal friends, enjoying private time at Berghof, the Führer’s Bavarian hideaway. Vargas was reeling from the sight of the macabre memorabilia when he suddenly spotted something even more spine-chilling: a small matt black urn standing on a white marble plinth in one of the five corners.

Hembury was the first to speak. “Jesus, Nic, this place is a living shrine to Hitler.”

“Yeah, possibly topped off by his ashes.”

Vargas took out his mobile and spent a few seconds capturing the grotesque images. “The whole vibe coming from this room is sinister. Valentina Suarez is obviously a Nazi and a big fan of the Führer.”