Over the years, Helmut had helped collect tons of gold from the camps and from branches of the SS. Helmut oversaw the melting of that gold into twenty-five-kilogram ingots. He transported those ingots wherever Himmler told him to—never to the same place twice. For while Himmler said he trusted Helmut, no one other than the Reichsführer himself knew where and how the gold was being hidden. And in those final days, Himmler had finally given Helmut the greatest gift—the gift of trusting him with the future of the Reich, of giving him the location of the gold and allowing him to decide when the time came to use it. But Helmut had lost that gift before it had been fully bestowed, and the Reichsführer’s gold, ready to finance the return of his ideals of Aryan supremacy, had disappeared.

Ingrid had insisted that Gottfried drive the dump truck. They had spotted it at a construction site and paid the crew €10,000 apiece for a few hours’ work and to look the other way when they stole the truck, but she didn’t trust them not to drive off with a few hundred million euros’ worth of gold, and she certainly had no intention of leading them to the Fox’s Den. Dietrich and Eva rode in the car with Ingrid, and the hired hands drove Ruthie in a rental car that Gottfried had picked up in Innsbruck. They had instructions to drop her at the train station there, then go home and forget everything they had seen.

“I thought you’d be happier,” said Dietrich as Ingrid accelerated onto the highway. “You seem . . . reserved.”

“We’re a long way from the end,” said Ingrid. “And even when Projekt Alchemie is complete, our work is just begun.”

“Yes,” said Dietrich, “but did you ever believe we’d make it this far? Eva figures that haul is worth six hundred million euros at least. Can you imagine what we can do with six hundred million euros?”

“I’ve been imagining that ever since my grandfather lay on his deathbed,” said Ingrid. “Ever since he told me about Himmler and his vision for a better world. Maybe that’s why I don’t feel elated at the moment—the reality doesn’t seem that different from the way I’ve imagined it.”

“You don’t talk much about your grandfather,” said Dietrich.

“He was a great man,” said Ingrid. “He was willing to die in the service of Projekt Alchemie, in the service of the Reich.”

Dietrich glanced at Eva, sleeping peacefully in the back seat. “So am I,” he said.