Wilde stopped. Suddenly, tears had started coursing down the German’s cheeks. Had he misjudged Fritzsche? Was this a cynical act, or did he actually have a heart? ‘Herr Fritzsche, are you all right? Would you like to take a pause?’

‘No, no. I want to talk to you. It is the shame I can’t bear. I see the loathing in your eyes, Herr Professor. My guards have told me all about the atrocities: the death camps, the death marches, the murders of innocents. I fear my country is forever damned.’

Fritzsche wiped his sleeve across his tear-stained face and Wilde allowed him a few moments to compose himself.

‘Very well,’ he said at last. ‘Let us move on. After you were told of Hitler’s death, what happened?’

‘I stayed in the bunker. Others either killed themselves or fled. Bormann was one of those who escaped. He went with Dr Stumpfegger and others.’

‘So who at that time was the most senior government official left in the bunker?’

‘I was, although there were also senior military men such as General Burgdorf. On May second, I made the decision that it was time to surrender Berlin to the Red Army before more damage and needless deaths occurred.’

‘Were all those still present in the bunker agreed on this?’

‘I took the decision unilaterally. There was chaos by then, so someone had to act.’

‘And no one objected?’

He laughed through his tears. ‘Burgdorf tried to shoot me, but a junior officer knocked the pistol from his hand. Then I went over to the Russian lines, to Marshal Zhukov and offered the surrender. I have been a prisoner ever since.’

‘Did you believe the reports of Hitler’s death?’

‘That is a difficult question.’

‘Yes or no will suffice.’

He bit his lip. ‘I found it hard to believe. He was a godlike figure and it seemed impossible that he should be dead.’

‘Did you actually have any sound reason for believing he was alive?’

‘No, none. Just my gut telling me that he couldn’t be dead. The Führer was immortal. He couldn’t die, could he?’

‘So if he was still alive, what might have happened to him?’

‘Maybe he escaped the country. My Russian guards all believe he is alive. They try to taunt me by saying that he is enjoying cups of tea with Churchill in England while I am rotting away in my cell. Others say he is with Franco in Spain, planning his next move.’

‘Did you see Hanna Reitsch, the famous aviatrix, in the bunker?’

‘Yes, of course.’

‘Did you see her leave?’

‘No, but I heard she had gone.’

‘And after she had gone, did you see Hitler again?’

Fritzsche shook his head.

‘So Hitler could have gone with her?’

‘I don’t know. Perhaps it’s possible. I have no evidence either way.’ He took a breath. His watery eyes met Wilde’s and his brow knitted slightly.