The woman returned with their acorn coffee. It tasted nothing like the real thing, but it wasn’t too bad. She bowed and was about to leave when Wilde stopped her.

‘I believe Herr Jaeger is related to Walter Schellenberg. You must know him from his visits.’

She looked puzzled. Or worried, perhaps. ‘Who?’ she said.

‘Schellenberg. SS-Brigadeführer Schellenberg. Himmler’s right-hand man.’

She froze and then shook her head stiffly. ‘No, sir, I have not heard of such a man. I am sure he is not known in Almrosen.’

‘That’s funny, he told me he came here. A visit by an SS general would have been a big event. Didn’t you put out the flags for him?’

‘No, forgive me, sir, I have lived here all my life and this thing has never happened. There has never been an SS general here. And I have not heard of this man you mention. August Jaeger has never spoken of him.’

‘Well, that’s a shame.’ Wilde put down the coffee, then returned to the table and carefully folded up the map. He wanted to study it more; if Jaeger knew anything, this might just hold the secret. Either way, he’d likely want it back, so it might prompt him to make contact. ‘Tell Herr Jaeger I will return this to him when I see him. Don’t forget to tell him to call. And thank you for the coffee. It was fine.’

She was helpless to prevent him taking the map, though her eyes followed it in horror. A theft was being committed before her very eyes and she was powerless to do anything about it.

Outside the front door, Wilde breathed deeply of the mountain air. ‘What do you reckon now, Lieutenant Heck? Shall we look around? Take the village tour?’

‘No, goddamn it, this has been a waste of time. At least in a wild goose chase, you know there’s a goose. Let’s talk to the people who knew Hitler best.’

‘I agree. I particularly want to meet those who were with him to the end. Perhaps the bastard really did shoot himself in the bunker.’

Heck smiled. ‘You don’t believe that, Wilde.’

*

The jeep was getting short of fuel, but there would be enough to get them as far as Innsbruck, where they could bank on finding a French garrison to fill up. The road down from the high village of Almrosen was atrocious but the day was bright and there was no other traffic. Wilde was at the wheel.

Halfway down, there had been another rockfall. Wilde slowed to a crawl to skirt the boulders that littered the road. On his left, the fall-away was sheer, with a precipice of close to a thousand feet.

‘Enjoying the drive, Professor?’ Heck said. ‘Let’s see if you can keep us alive.’

‘Was that a vote of confidence?’

‘Take it how you will.’

Wilde glanced in the mirror. Some way back, he spotted another vehicle, a light-green truck loaded with tree trunks. He and Heck maintained silence; concentration was critical. One minor error would do for them.