A minute or so later a volley of shots rang out, echoing away across the gardens. Then another; and another. Heydrich checked his watch again, nodded and smiled.

‘Shall we?’ he said, striding on to the gravel pathway.

‘Was that for my benefit?’ I said, knowing full well that it was.

‘The firing squad?’ He chuckled. ‘No, no, Kommissar Gunther. You imagine too much. And anyway, I hardly think that you of all people require an object lesson in power. It’s just that I am particular about punctuality. With kings this is said to be a virtue, but with a policeman this is merely the hallmark of administrative efficiency. After all, if the Führer can make the trains run on time, the least I ought to be able to do is make sure that a few priests are liquidated at the proper appointed hour.’

So it was an object lesson after all, I thought. Heydrich’s way of letting me know that he was aware of my disagreement with Sturmbannfuhrer Roth from 4B1.

‘Whatever happened to being shot at dawn?’

‘The neighbours complained.’

‘You did say priests, didn’t you?’

‘The Catholic Church is no less of an international conspiracy than Bolshevism or Judaism, Gunther. Martin Luther led one Reformation, the Fuhrer will lead another. He will abolish Roman authority over German Catholics, whether the priests permit him or not. But that is another matter, and one best left to those who are well versed in its implementation.

‘No, I wanted to tell you about the problem I have, which is that I am under a certain amount of pressure from Goebbels and his Muratti hacks that this case you are working on be given publicity. I’m not sure how much longer I can stave them off.’

‘When I was given this case, General,’ I said, lighting a cigarette, ‘I was against a ban on publicity. Now I’m convinced that publicity is exactly what our killer has been after all along.’

‘Yes, Nebe said you were working on the theory that this might be some sort of conspiracy engineered by Streicher and his Jew-baiting pals to bring down a pogrom on the heads of the capital’s Jewish community.’

‘It sounds fantastic, General, only if you don’t know Streicher.’

He stopped, and thrusting his hands deep inside his trouser pockets, he shook his head.

‘There is nothing about that Bavarian pig that could possibly surprise me.’ He kicked at a pigeon with the toe of his boot, and missed. ‘But I want to hear more.’

‘A girl has identified a photograph of Streicher as possibly the man who tried to pick her up outside a school from which another girl disappeared last week. She thinks that the man might have had a Bavarian accent. The desk sergeant who took an anonymous call tipping us off where exactly to find the body of another missing girl said that the caller had a Bavarian accent.