Leni gave him a withering look. Lockhart gunned the engine and pulled away. Leni held on to him with her left arm, and held the Luger behind his back in her right hand.

“By the way,” she shouted, “go slowly through the roadblock—that way I’ll be more likely to hit.”

Lockhart saluted.

As they left Hanover, Lockhart thought for a few cruel minutes that they were in the clear. The road was nearly empty, apart from the odd staff car or truck, and they were making good progress.

“At this rate,” he bellowed over his shoulder, “we should be in Hildesheim in half an hour!”

Leni didn’t reply, for she had seen what Lockhart evidently hadn’t—a line of traffic.

“Look!” she shouted.

“Shit,” said Lockhart under his breath, cursing his optimism.

There must have been at least ten vehicles in the line. Lockhart pulled up behind a small Opel, no doubt being driven by some self-important official. He looked ahead—the roadblock appeared to be impromptu, consisting of not much more than two cars parked across the middle of each carriageway. Traffic from either direction, after being inspected, was allowed to pass through the narrow gap. There were large drainage ditches on either side of the road, which ruled out any attempt to go past the outside of the roadblock. Lockhart took a deep breath—they would have to go through the middle. He turned to Leni.

“What I suggest we do,” he began, “is get through immediately behind this car. Hopefully we’ll be too quick for them.”

“And what if they start shooting?”

“That’s your department.”

As they edged forward, Lockhart studied the soldiers manning the checkpoint. There were six of them, four of whom were wearing badly cut suits: Gestapo, definitely Gestapo. The other two were SS NCOs, brandishing MP40 machine guns. If Leni needed to shoot anybody, it would have to be them.

“Do you see the two SS men?” asked Lockhart.

“Sure.”

They were now only three cars away from the roadblock. Lockhart readied himself, fearing that they might be spotted before their turn came. But with the Gestapo having to check traffic from both directions, their attention was reserved for those vehicles immediately before them.

“Hold tight,” said Lockhart. “When I move, it’s going to be quick.”

They inched forward. Now there was only the Opel between them and the roadblock. Lockhart started revving his engine in readiness, causing one of the Gestapo men to flash them an irritated look. Lockhart smiled back idiotically—it was more natural to act impatient.

Lockhart watched the Opel driver hand over his papers, which were studiously inspected. The Gestapo man seemed to take ages switching his look between them and the driver, seeing if they tallied. Lockhart could feel his heart pounding fiercely, readying himself for the coming burst of action. He and Leni could be dead in half a minute, their mangled bodies full of machine-gun rounds, crushed under the motorcycle. He dispelled the image as he watched the Opel driver take back his papers and put his car into gear. The Gestapo stepped aside to let the Opel go through. Now, thought Lockhart, now.