‘A man like Hitler? Oh yes, he’s alive. He’s a snivelling coward. He’s crawled into a hole somewhere, cowering, biding his time. Also, he has plenty of followers who would go to great lengths to keep him safe and hidden.’

‘Then we’ll find him.’

‘Who’s the guy in Almrosen?’

‘His name is August Jaeger.’

‘Another fucking Nazi, no doubt. So he will keep shtum. But hey, let’s go give him a hard time.’

For the rest of the journey, Wilde tried to get to know Heck better. The Dutchman told him about his escape from the Netherlands soon after the German invasion of his country in May 1940. When it became obvious that the Nazi force was irresistible, he and two Amsterdam school friends hitched a ride to the coast, where they stole a small sailing boat and cast off into the North Sea. ‘We knew nothing of navigation and only one of us had a vague idea how to sail. But we were lucky. The weather was on our side and we weren’t spotted by German patrols.’

‘You made it all the way to England?’

‘The Royal Navy picked us up.’ He laughed. ‘I was just under seventeen, yet I looked a lot older. I had no passport, but the British accepted me as twenty and allowed me to enlist.’

‘The eyebrow?’

‘The eyebrow. You noticed that?’ He grinned at Wilde. ‘Yes, it put years on me. My friends looked younger and were packed off to foster homes and school. I joined the First Battalion Suffolk Regiment and learnt how to shoot guns, kill with a bayonet and march. The training was laughably easy and I excelled because I wanted badly to become a good soldier. But it was dull stuff for four years. We were stuck in England until last June and I was a lonely private saying, “Yes, sir, no, sir, three bags full, sir.” Then came D-Day and my real life began. My chance to kill fucking Nazis. Every last fucking one of them.’

‘For a Dutchman you have an interesting grasp of Anglo-Saxon.’

‘Oh I learnt a lot more words than that in the barrack room. Too strong for your delicate college ears, eh?’

‘I think I’ll probably survive. So from the barrack room and the lower ranks, how did you become a lieutenant?’

‘By January this year I’d made sergeant and so I thought I might as well apply for a commission. I had as good an education as any of the British officers and I reckoned I could do the job better than most of them. For some reason they accepted me. So here I am: Lieutenant Heck at your service.’

‘And still just twenty-two? Good for you.’

‘I could almost be one of your students, Professor.’

‘Indeed you could. Maybe you will one day.’ Heck was a paradox. He had an obvious zest for life and the possibility of a great future stretching out ahead of him, but the path he was on could as well lead to the gallows. A vengeful heart throbbed within the young man’s breast.