Richard arrived at the house for their scheduled morning catch-up. Bormann was usually waiting for him in his study but today the housekeeper escorted him straight upstairs where the old man was sitting in bed, propped up by a couple of pillows. It was the first time Richard had looked at his beloved mentor and seen a frail, dying old man staring back at him. The usual spark behind his eyes was gone and his skin tone had turned a light shade of grey, almost as if he were wearing a death mask. At that exact moment, Richard realised he was about to lose the anchor in his life, and he experienced a rare stab of fear at the thought of being cut loose. Bormann gestured for him to sit down on the chair that had been placed by the side of the bed.

“Richard, I can tell by the look on your face that you aren’t going to be shocked by the news I need to impart. Last night, my physician came over to discuss the results of my latest blood tests. The bottom line is the drugs are no longer working, and the cancer has spread from my prostate to my liver.” He paused for a moment and slowly reached for the white porcelain coffee cup on his bedside table. He took a small sip and carefully placed it back on the saucer. It was painful to watch. “Richard, I’m looking at two weeks, maybe less.”

“Martin, I’m so sorry. Somehow, I’ve never really prepared myself for this moment. I’m not ready for you to go. There’s still so much I need to learn from you.” Bormann tried to manage a smile but couldn’t quite achieve it.

“We’ll need to spend the next few days together so I can pass on certain crucial information. But I’m happy the plan your father and I hatched in El Calafate all those years ago is firmly on course and it will be down to you and John to ensure its ultimate success.”

Richard lifted Bormann’s limp hands and held them gently between his own. “Martin, you have my word that we will both fulfil our legacy to my father, your Führer.”