Just as Bormann was concluding this would be another one of those days, the study door opened and Hitler appeared. He was clean-shaven and smartly dressed in a grey double-breasted suit, a white cotton shirt and a grey tie. Bormann was delighted to see he was ready for business and hoped his mind was as sharp as his appearance. He stood to greet the Führer, who nodded to him as he slowly shuffled across the room to his desk. These days he relied on a brass-handled chestnut walking stick for support and it took him some time to reach the chair, which was situated at the far end of the room. Once he was seated, he cleared his throat and fixed his gaze on Bormann as a signal he was ready for the briefing to begin.

“Führer, it’s wonderful to see you looking so sprightly today. We have much to discuss, and, as ever, I am in need of your wisdom and guidance.”

Although Bormann had been pulling all the strings since they’d arrived in Patagonia, he still displayed an instinctive deference to the Führer who, on days like this, somehow managed to conjure up an aura of power and authority.

Hitler leaned forward and rested his arms on the desk. “What matters do you wish to discuss, Martin?”

“Führer, for some months now, our contacts in Buenos Aires have been reporting concerns that Mossad and that despicable Austrian Jew, Wiesenthal, have been combining their resources to step up their search for some of our most important friends. I’m particularly worried about Eichmann and Mengele, and I wondered if we should think about relocating them and their families from Buenos Aires to join us in El Calafate.”

Hitler instantly shook his head. “Martin, I won’t sanction any action that endangers my security and our plans for the future. Go and see them both and offer whatever financial resources they require in order to move to a more remote location. It concerns me they both know where we are based, and, if they are subjected to interrogation from the Israelis, we may become compromised.”

Unbeknown to Hitler, Bormann had already booked himself on the morning flight to Buenos Aires and had arranged meetings with both of the notorious Nazi exiles.

“I share your concern, Führer, and will meet with them as soon as possible.”

“Very good. Give them both my regards.”

Bormann stood to leave just as Hitler fired off a parting shot. “Martin, can you imagine what fun Josef would have had with Wiesenthal if he had been an inmate at Auschwitz?”

* * *