Helms gave a shrug and smiled. ‘Honestly, I don’t know. I have no doubts he was or is a brave man in his own warped way. Brave enough to shoot himself without a moment’s hesitation. But also, hard, cruel and insanely iron-willed. So yes, he would go into hiding if he thought for a moment that he could lead a counter-offensive like Napoleon after Elba. He would not kill himself while he held the slightest hope of ultimate victory.’

‘Homeland or abroad?’

‘Homeland, without a doubt.’

*

Wilde glanced at his watch. They had been talking much longer than planned. Still no sign of Heck. ‘Check with your team, would you, Richard? Perhaps someone has seen him or maybe he told someone his plans. If he’s not with us soon, I’m going to have to meet Comrade Minsky alone.’

‘We have a couple of army uniforms. You should wear one.’

‘Do I need to?’

‘No one messes with you if you’re in uniform in this city.’

‘I’ll take my chances, Richard.’ It would feel wrong to Wilde to wear uniform when he had never been enlisted.

*

At 1.40, there was still no sign of Lieutenant Heck and Wilde decided to go without him. He wasn’t worried about his colleague; if anyone could look after himself, it was Mo Heck. And though he couldn’t explain it to himself, he also had the feeling that this was a mission he would like to conduct alone.

The driver dropped him off in a broad tree-lined street, outside the monolithic slab of a building that housed the Kommandatura. Four flags fluttered in the breeze – the Stars and Stripes, the Hammer and Sickle, the Union Flag and the Tricolour. He went through to reception and was informed that Mr Minsky would be a little late.

Wilde took a seat. He knew this trick: gain a negotiating advantage by keeping the other guy waiting. It didn’t worry him in the least. The place was incredibly busy, with representatives of all four powers, many in uniform, plenty more in suits, as well as Germans picked as administrators of the city’s new order. Apart from a few secretaries, the Germans were almost all men, and they all looked uneasy, aware that they were answerable to the occupiers in everything they did. Wilde closed his eyes, sat back and relaxed.

A few minutes later, he emerged from his reverie to find a short, plump, entirely bald, chubby-faced man looking down at him.

‘Professor Wilde?’ the man said with a large grin and a magnificently thick Russian accent, like a Hollywood version of how a hard-smoking Red Army officer should sound.

‘Colonel General?’ He rose to his feet, hand out.