They arrived at the Grosser Garten in Hanover at midday. Lockhart was impressed with the huge formal gardens, which were thronging with families, soldiers on leave, couples arm-in-arm—all enjoying the heat of the day. With his pay, Lockhart had bought himself a jacket, a casual shirt, some shoes and some trousers. They were badly made, and felt rough, but he blended in with the crowds far better than he would have had he been wearing his uniform. He had even found a holster in the stores at the St. Michael Cloister, into which he had slipped his Luger.

At her suggestion, Leni had put her arm inside his. It made them look more natural, more like just another couple.

“It’s nice to be out at last,” said Leni.

“I bet,” said Lockhart. “I expect your landlady thought you were mad staying in the whole time.”

“I pretended I was ill.”

Although they were indulging in small talk, their eyes were darting around the park, taking in every figure they thought looked suspicious. There was a chance, and they both knew it, that Leni’s network had been compromised, that the whole meeting in the park was a setup.

“Have you noticed anyone?” Lockhart asked.

Leni shook her head gently.

“No—I don’t think so.”

“It’s almost impossible to tell. Anybody here could work for them.”

They walked slowly, like lovers. Lockhart found Leni’s grip comforting, but he promised himself not to get distracted, to keep his mind on the rendezvous.

“What time is the collection?”

“One o’clock.”

“I’d prefer it,” said Lockhart, “if we went there now. I’d feel a lot happier if I knew my way ’round this maze. Besides, if she’s already there, I’ll want to abandon it.”

“Why?”

“Because it’ll look like a setup. Nobody can sit and pretend to read the Volkischer Beobachter for an hour. It’s not that interesting. If she’s the genuine article, she won’t want to hang around, and will get there just before one. But if she’s a plant, she might get there early, in case we do. She’ll be happy to wait, because she’s got nothing to fear.”

Leni nodded.

“All right,” she said. “Let’s go then—it’s at the other end.”

They walked past the parterre gardens, the fountains, the vendors selling boiled sweets. For a few moments, Lockhart could almost feel that there wasn’t a war on; that he was on holiday, taking an idle stroll on a sunny day. They reached the entrance to the maze.

“Can you see a map?” Lockhart asked. “Or anyone selling one?”

They both looked around fruitlessly.

“Well,” said Lockhart, “we’ll just have to hope that it’s not too complicated. Your friends certainly chose one hell of a spot.”

“It’s not my fault,” said Leni.

The hedges were about seven feet high and made from yew.

“Have you ever been in a maze before?” asked Leni.

“Once,” said Lockhart. “At Hampton Court.”

“What was it like?” she asked.