‘Surely you do not expect to stay here after what you have done?’

‘Well, you can be sure I’m not sleeping outdoors, so yes, we’re staying. And we want a damned good breakfast. Eggs, bacon, your best bread, butter, real coffee. The works. Got it, mister?’

‘If you insist.’

‘Oh yes, I insist. You really don’t want to know what the alternative is.’

*

They were given adjoining rooms.

‘Is this wise, staying here?’ Wilde said after the proprietor had departed with yet another deep and insincere bow.

Heck laughed. ‘You worried the boys in the leather shorts are going to come and do for us in the night?’

‘Aren’t you? The problem is, Lieutenant Heck, that you have announced our arrival in rather a dramatic fashion. If anyone in these parts knows the whereabouts of Hitler, they now know about us too.’ The fate of Collingham and Harper did not need mentioning.

‘Think of it as flushing him out, like beaters on a shoot.’

‘I really don’t think that strategy will work in this case. News will travel like fire in this part of the world. You might already have scared August Jaeger away.’

‘Then we’ll be certain he knows something. And we’ll find him.’

It was a futile discussion. Wilde was becoming painfully aware of the reasoning behind the decision to use him as a counterpoint to the headstrong Dutchman. He was less sure that he was up to the task. In fact, he was rapidly coming to the conclusion that while they might have individual strengths, they were never going to make a team.

‘Well, goodnight, Lieutenant.’

‘And goodnight yourself, Professor.’

Wilde paused with his hand on the door handle to his room. ‘You know, Heck, for a minute back there, I really thought you were about to shoot our host in the head.’

‘I was.’

Chapter 12

Wilde slept fully clothed except for his shoes, with his Walther under the pillow. His room was a pleasant, pine-scented chamber with a balcony, a large bed with duvet, and a basin with hot and cold water. He woke with the dawn, rested, and looked out through a picture window on to a magnificent mountain panorama. God, this place was beautiful. Maybe the Führer really was close by. If he loved the Alps as much as it was said, he could find no better place to live out his days.

At breakfast, their host, Heinrich Stifter, was a chastened man. He served them with grace, fawning over them as he brought all the food Heck had commanded, along with cheeses, sliced sausage and a bowl of fruit.

‘Forgive me,’ he said, bowing his head. ‘I beg you to forgive all of us for the events of last night. We have all lost children in the terrible war and it is hard to shrug off old loyalties like an overcoat. I myself lost both my sons on the Eastern Front. I realise it was wrong of us to have sung that song, especially with two honoured guests in the room, but it was merely meant as a tribute to those we have lost, not to the criminals who held our country in thrall to their accursed ideology.’