Not only that, but he was protected by men, and perhaps women, too, who would always strike first at anyone making inquiries, even if they were nowhere close. No chance was to be taken. Cut out the threat at the onset.

That was why he and Heck had nearly been crushed to death on the mountain road down to Grünegg, that was why a sniper had tried to kill him in Berlin and why agents Randy Collingham and Denis Harper were shot in the back of the head on a pretty Bavarian road.

And it was almost certainly the reason the poor maidservant Ingrid Zinke was killed by the driver of a red Reichspost van. To shut her up.

Wilde was certain now that Jaeger had held the answer. With his demise, however, there was still one trail left: Julius Boden and the village of Schwarzenkirche.

If anyone knew the whereabouts of Adolf Hitler it had to be Boden or his mother. But Wilde was under no illusion that Hitler would be anywhere near their home. People like the Bodens didn’t soil their own doorstep. Nor would they talk, even if arrested. So Wilde would have to outwit them.

Gently, he pulled Paula Jaeger to her feet. ‘Come on, let’s go.’

‘What do we do, Herr Wilde?’

‘There’s nothing we can do here.’

‘At least let us put a blanket over him.’ The next words were little more than a whisper. ‘And something to cover the items on the altar.’

‘Yes, we’ll do that. Then we return to Almrosen and make contact with the French military. It’s their responsibility now. Where’s the nearest telephone?’

‘There’s one in my house.’

Was that a reproachful look she was giving him? Maybe his presence had resulted in August Jaeger’s death, but Wilde hadn’t brought the evil; it had been here already, an infection every bit as deadly as the Black Death. The scourge of Nazism.

‘Well, we’d better get back to the village and let the mayor or whoever’s in charge deal with this. You and I can’t carry him.’

*

After covering the corpse and taking a last look around, both inside the hut and chapel, and in the shallow cave, they began the trek back down to Almrosen.

First, they had to negotiate the stone steps, which were even more difficult going down than up, but Wilde led the way and reached the flat grassy meadow safely. Paula was a little way behind him. He knew she was weeping and shaking from the horror of her uncle’s death, and that she could barely see where she was going for the tears she kept brushing away.

He caught his breath and looked around the glorious alm. This was too idyllic a spot for such wickedness.