“I’m sick of being cooped up!”

“I’m sorry,” said Lockhart.

“You’d better have brought something to drink.”

“This I can do for you, Fräulein,” said Lockhart, mock-formal.

He produced a bottle from behind his back. It was champagne, nothing very spectacular, but spectacular enough for a small bar in the middle of Hildesheim.

“You’re forgiven,” said Leni, bursting into a smile. “But we’ll have to drink it from mugs, I’m afraid.”

“Well in that case, we’d better save it.”

Leni looked at him—he was being deadly serious.

“What? Do you mean it?”

“Yes I do. I’m not drinking champagne from a mug.”

“You’re joking! You are, aren’t you?”

“Of course I am!”

Leni fetched the mugs from her table and held them out. Lockhart noticed a sealed stamped envelope on the table.

He unwrapped the foil and prized open the cork, doing so as quietly as possible. He wouldn’t want the landlady to hear the sounds of such revelry. The champagne was warm, and as a result it sprayed inside Lockhart’s hand and down the bottle, dripping onto the threadbare rug.

“Whoops!” Leni exclaimed.

Lockhart poured out two half-mugs and set the bottle down on Leni’s bedside table. He took a mug from Leni and raised it.

“To tomorrow?” he said.

“To tomorrow.”

The champagne tasted pleasant enough, thought Lockhart.

“So is everything in place?” asked Leni.

“I think so,” said Lockhart. “The men know what they’re doing. The equipment is all in order. We even know the way.”

“And how are the men?”

“As well as can be expected.”

“And Maclaren?”

“I’m not sure. I’ve got both Catchpole and Stafford keeping an eye on him. If he tries going anywhere, I’ve told them they can kill him—I’m not risking anything.”

“Pugh?”

“Seems fine.”

“I don’t trust him.”

“I don’t trust any of them.”

“You have a point there.”

Leni drained her mug. Lockhart poured her another measure.

“This is going down well,” said Leni. “Anyway, how are you feeling?”

“Nervous. I can’t deny it.”

“Same here. By the way, what sort of pistol will I be using tomorrow? I hope you’ve got me a P38, because I don’t want to use a Luger.”

“Ah, I was hoping we could talk about that.”

“Yes?”

“I don’t think it’s a good idea for you to come.”

Leni looked at him over the top of her mug.

“I’ll assume,” she said, “that this is another one of your jokes.”

She took another swig.

“I’m sorry, Leni, it’s not.”

Leni slammed the mug down on the bedside table.

“What?”

“You can’t come,” said Lockhart, “because having a woman amongst us will only cause the guards to be suspicious.”

“What rubbish! You can say I’m a prisoner, a scientist, anything you damn well like, you know that! I’m as useful to you as any one of those idiots in your unit. You saw how I dealt with that roadblock! And now you’re telling me—have the nerve to tell me—that I can’t come along?”