‘No, Professor, I am sure that you know they do not. They have been brought to starvation by the fascists stealing our livestock, burning our crops, slaughtering our land workers. I am eating here in this fine restaurant in honour of my esteemed guest. Any other day I would make do with beet or potato soup.’

They drank vodka, ate caviar with blinis, devoured tender beef Stroganoff and half a dozen other Russian dishes. Then drank more vodka. Wilde sipped his, aware that Minsky was keeping a close watch on him. The Russian himself drank copious amounts without discernible effect.

After the caviar course, Wilde complimented the dish and Minsky summoned the waiter over and said something in Russian. He returned with a large tin of caviar and handed it to Minsky who, in turn, offered it to Wilde. ‘Here,’ the Russian said. ‘Take this home to your beautiful bourgeoise wife in Cambridge. I know very well how much you and your people have suffered.’

‘Why do you mention Cambridge?’

‘Because you live there. We know a great deal about you, Professor Wilde. Perhaps you like a wristwatch, too? I have many.’

‘Thank you. No to the wristwatch, but the caviar would be greatly appreciated. It’s a kind gift. I am sure my beautiful bourgeoise wife will be thrilled,’ Wilde said, accepting the tin. He would give it to Helms back at the OSS bureau, where it could be logged and shared between the staff. No one could afford to be bribed by the Soviets. Bribery always led to blackmail. ‘Tell me, though, perhaps you could do me another favour, too. You said Günsche and Linge were in Moscow – could I be flown there to interrogate them?’

They had finished the meal and were drinking thick Turkish coffee. Minsky was smoking American cigarettes, one after the other. He shrugged at the question. ‘I will have to take advice from my superiors, Professor. But if you want my honest opinion, I would say that such a trip would not be sanctioned by the Kremlin. I can but ask though, eh?’

‘I really need this. If anyone knows the truth about Hitler, it has to be someone who was there at the cremation. At least one of them must have been in on the conspiracy. The driver, Kempka, didn’t see the corpse’s face, but then he didn’t wrap the body in the blanket and carry it. Günsche or Linge must know the truth. And if they do, they should have a pretty good idea where their boss is now.’

Minsky stubbed out the latest cigarette and rose. ‘Come, comrade, let me take you for a little drive – I have something to show you.’

Wilde downed his coffee, which was surprisingly good, picked up his precious tin of beluga and followed his host. A large black car was waiting for them at the kerb. This had all been planned.