“I have some urgent package for a Major Jonathan Jacobs,” I said. “He was scheduled to fly out to the States at midnight tonight. To Langley Air Force Base, in Virginia. The major is stationed in Garmisch-Partenkirchen and the packages arrived for him after he had already left to catch his plane.”

“You’ve driven all the way from Garmisch?” The guard looked surprised. And he was looking closely at my face. I remembered the hammer blow I had received from Shlomo. “In this fog?”

I nodded. “That’s right. I ran off the road a while ago. Which is how I got this bruise on my head. Lucky it wasn’t worse, really.”

“That’s one hell of a drive.”

“Sure,” I said modestly. “But take a look at this paperwork. And these packages. It’s all really urgent stuff. Medical supplies. And I promised the major that if they arrived after he had left, then at least I would make an attempt to make sure they caught up with him.” I smiled nervously. “Perhaps you could check if that flight has taken off yet?”

“Don’t need to. Nothing’s flying tonight,” said Schwarz. “Even the birds are grounded. On account of this damned fog. Been like this since late this afternoon. You’re in luck. You’ve got plenty of time to catch your major. Nothing’s going out of here until the morning.” But he carried on checking through his paperwork anyway. Then he said, “Looks like there are only four supernumeraries on that Langley flight.”

“Supernumeraries?”

“Nonmilitary passengers.”

“Dr. Braun and his wife, and Dr. Hoffmann and his wife,” I said. “Right?”

“That’s right,” said the guard. “Your Major Jacobs escorted them through here about five or six hours ago.”

“If they’re not flying tonight,” I asked, “where would they be now?”

Schwarz pointed across the airfield. “You can’t see it now because of the fog. But if you drive down there and bear left you’ll see a five-story airport building. With the words ‘Rhein-Main’ down one side. Behind is a small hotel attached to the main air force barracks. Which is probably where you’ll find your major right now. Happens a lot with that midnight flight to Langley. On account of the fog. Yes, sir, I expect they’re all tucked up for the night. As snug as a bug in a rug.”

“As snug as a bug in a rug.” I repeated the phrase with a kind of fascination for the dexterity of the English language. And then a grim fascination with an idea that suddenly came to me. “Yes, I see. Well, I’d better not disturb him, had I? He might be asleep. Perhaps you could direct me to the cargo bay for that flight. I’ll leave the package there.”

“Next to the barracks. Can’t miss it. All the lights are on.”