‘The Second World War was the greatest conflagration in human history,’ he said. ‘It killed millions of people. It reshaped Europe and the world. We live with its legacy today. We will live with its legacy for ever. The men who come here – and they are all men – think they would have been improved by war. They believe they missed something by being born too late. And they’re right. They did miss something. They missed everything. They missed the great test of the twentieth century – perhaps of all time.’

‘But let me ask you this,’ Wren said. ‘Why is so much of this stuff about the Nazis? They lost, didn’t they? Yet so much of the war memorabilia industry is about them. It’s like wanting the replica shirt of the side that lost the cup final.’

‘I think the general consensus is that they had the strongest sense of aesthetics.’

‘They had the best kit?’ Wren smiled.

‘Yes.’

‘If only it were that simple,’ she said, not smiling at him now. ‘If only it were that innocent.’

I smoothed the photographs on the glass case.

‘Do you recall ever being asked about one of these knives?’ I said.

‘Well, of course,’ Cage said. ‘This is one of the great collector’s items of World War Two.’ A flicker of pleasure in his eyes. ‘And the enquiries have been on the rise lately. What with all the publicity.’

‘Can you give me a list of people who wanted to buy one?’

‘No.’

‘Why not?’

‘Client confidentiality.’

Wren and I grinned at each other.

‘You have to take the Hippocratic oath just to flog a bit of Nazi memorabilia?’ I said.

He licked his lips and said nothing.

‘Look,’ I said. ‘I’m not interested in busting you.’

He bridled at that. ‘What could you bust me for?’

I didn’t know where to start. ‘Offensive weapons. Knives. Bayonets. These firearms. Incitement to racial hatred.’

‘The idea that all my clients are Nazi fetishists is simply not true!’

‘Not all of them. But some of them, I bet. And I bet there’s some stuff in the back room or under the counter that you wouldn’t necessarily put on display in the shop window. Am I right? Look, I don’t want to stop you doing your job—’

‘Thanks.’

‘Unless you stop me from doing mine.’

I left him my card and a few simple instructions. The shop went dark as Wren and I got into the car across the street. The Wehrmacht dummy stared out into the Holloway night.

‘You don’t really think that Bob bought a knife here, do you?’ Wren said.

‘No,’ I said. ‘But I think he might.’