‘My name is Wilde. I do not have military rank. And this is Lieutenant Heck, a British Army officer.’

‘So you’re not a military man, Herr Wilde. That must make you a spy, I suppose.’

‘You don’t need to know anything more about me.’

‘As you wish.’ She allowed herself a smile, but her carapace remained ferociously hard. ‘That was quite some little speech you made.’

‘I meant every word of it. In particular, it was addressed to you, Frau Boden, and by extension to your son. It would be better for him to give himself up.’

‘You could well be right, but as I haven’t the faintest idea where he is I don’t really see how I can assist you.’

‘Are you a Nazi?’ Heck demanded.

She gave him a withering look. ‘My politics are my own business, don’t you think? Isn’t that what you democrats say? Isn’t that what the lauded secret ballot is all about? But if you really must know, I don’t have any politics. That is men’s work.’

‘Women brought Hitler to power.’

She shrugged and looked past him to the window. Contempt oozed from every delicate pore of her handsome face.

Heck got up and walked over to her. He pushed his face within an inch of hers and gave her a look as scornful as her own. ‘Well you’re clearly not ashamed of your fucking Nazi son, so that makes you a piece of dogshit, lady. When I find him I will take great pleasure in killing him and I will invite you to watch as he grovels and begs for his life.’

She did not reply, would not even acknowledge him, save to turn her face sharply away from his. Heck stalked away and began pacing the room.

The maid brought a single cup of coffee to her mistress. None for her visitors.

‘Is he like you, your son?’ Wilde asked.

She stirred cream into her cup, then turned to Wilde. ‘In what way?’

‘Does he consider himself better than the rest of humanity?’

‘If he does, I would say he has cause. He is better than the rest of humanity. He would rather die than beg or grovel to either of you two, or anyone else. Perhaps you’ll meet him one day, Herr Wilde, and then you will find out for yourself.’

‘Where is your husband?’

‘Dead.’

‘Did he die in the war?’

‘I’m not sure I wish to talk about my husband or his death. You are here trying to find an escaped prisoner, my son, not to pry into my personal grief.’

‘And the younger children, where are they?’

‘With their grandfather, though I have no idea what business that is of yours either.’

‘And where does he live?’

‘Find out yourself.’

‘You are not helping yourself, or your son, Frau Boden.’