‘Hi, Tom,’ the boy said with a strong Eastern European accent, without removing the camera. ‘You want smile for me, boss?’

Wilde gave him a smile. The boy gave him a thumbs-up, then wandered off, the camera still clutched to his face.

Heck jumped to his feet. ‘He sees the whole world through that lens, Professor. But he doesn’t have any film.’

‘Is his family here?’

‘No. They were murdered by the fucking Nazis. He spent the war in the countryside, working on a farm. Then he walked and hitched here. He wants to go to Hollywood. He’s friendly with the doc and she’s been helping him with his English. He had already learnt some at home and now he gets by OK. He’s a fast learner.’

Chapter 10

They picked up the jeep from the camp pound and drove south at a steady speed. It was a US Army vehicle, complete with five-pointed white star and canvas canopy. ‘What’s your usual car, Professor?’ Heck demanded over the thunderous rush of wind and the noise of the road. ‘This a bit basic for your tastes?’

Wilde laughed. He knew he was being tested. ‘I ride a motorbike. Rudge Special 500cc. Getting on a bit now, but she’s reliable and I like her.’

‘Never heard of it. Top speed?’

‘About a hundred.’

‘KPH?’

‘MPH.’

‘Not bad. Not bad at all. Better than this Yankee pile of crap.’

Wilde looked at his watch. It was just after 3 p.m. ‘Do you think we could go and see where Randy Collingham and Denis Harper were ambushed?’ he asked. ‘Is that far from here?’

Without reply, Heck threw the jeep into a violent U-turn.

The speeds and cornering became ever more reckless. Wilde knew what it was about, of course. Heck was still angry with him for his reaction to the shooting of the SS man. Now, in retaliation, he was trying Wilde’s nerve.

They came down a steep incline into an area of dark green forest, then cruised past the still waters of a nameless lake, up another rise, past a derelict tank and a roadside stall, and a little while later, the jeep skidded to a halt, almost throwing Wilde over the bonnet.

‘This is the place,’ Heck said. ‘Have a look round, but there’s not a lot to see.’

They both climbed out of the vehicle. Any blood on the road had long since washed away in the rain.

‘If Collingham and Harper were ambushed here, maybe Hitler’s hideout is not so far away,’ Wilde suggested.

‘Would they shit on their own doorstep?’

‘It’s possible.’

Heck looked doubtful. ‘One thing is certain – the killer must have had knowledge of their movements. He must have known who they were and where they were going.’

‘What about that stall a mile or two back?’ Wilde said. ‘Perhaps the stallholder saw something. Has she been interrogated?’

‘I don’t know. Let’s go talk to her.’

They got back into the car and Heck drove them back up the road. The stall was run by a one-eyed woman in rags who looked as though she hadn’t eaten in days. The stub of a cigarette hung from a corner of her mouth. ‘Let me talk to her,’ Wilde said. ‘You are clearly very handy with a gun, Mr Heck, but you are also a little bit . . .’