Why so late in releasing the list? Rebus thought he could understand. Modern politics had decreed that Germany and Japan were part of the global brotherhood of capitalism. In whose interests would it be to reopen old wounds? And besides, how many atrocities had the Allies themselves hidden? Who fought a war with clean hands? Rebus, who’d grown to adulthood in the Army, could comprehend this. He’d done things ... He’d served time in Northern Ireland, seen trust disfigured, hatred replace fear.

Part of him could well believe in the existence of a Rat Line.

The book Levy had given him went into the mechanics of how such an operation might have worked. Rebus wondered: was it really possible to disappear completely, to change identity? And again, the recurring question: did any of it matter? There did exist sources of identification, and there had been court cases - Eichmann, Barbie, Demjanjuk with others ongoing. He read about war criminals who, rather than being tried or extradited, were allowed to return home, running businesses, growing rich, dying of old age. But he also read of criminals who served their sentences and became ‘good people’, people who had changed. These men said war itself was the real culprit. Rebus recalled one of his first conversations with Joseph Lintz, in the drawing-room of Lintz’s home. The old man’s voice was hoarse, a scarf around his throat.

‘At my age, Inspector, a simple throat infection can feel like death.’

There didn’t seem to be many photographs around. Lintz had explained that a lot had gone missing during the war.

‘Along with other mementoes. I do have these photos though.’

He’d shown Rebus half a dozen framed shots, dating back to the 1930s. As he’d explained who the subjects were, Rebus had suddenly thought: what if he’s making it up? What if these are just a bunch of old photos he picked up somewhere and had framed? And the names, the identities he now gave to the faces - had he invented them? He’d seen in that instant, for the first time, how easy it might be to construct another life.

And then, later in their conversation that day, Lintz, sipping honeyed tea, had started discussing Villefranche.

‘I’ve been thinking a lot about it, Inspector, as you might imagine. This Lieutenant Linzstek, he was in charge on the day?’

‘Yes.’

‘But presumably under orders from above. A lieutenant is not so very far up the pecking order.’

‘Perhaps.’

‘You see, if a soldier is under orders ... then they must carry out those orders, no?’

‘Even if the order is insane?’

‘Nevertheless, I’d say the person was at the very least coerced into committing the crime, and a crime that very many of us would have carried out under similar circumstances. Can’t you see the hypocrisy of trying someone, when you’d probably have done the same thing yourself? One soldier standing out from the crowd ... saying no to the massacre: would you have made that stand yourself?’