“Sorry about that,” said Lockhart. “Just a little talisman.”

“I think we’ll need a lot more than just the one,” Strasser said.

After a couple of minutes, they approached the entrance to the mountain, which consisted of a huge archway cut into the rock. Lockhart remembered from the blueprint that this was the smaller of the entrances, but it was still well guarded. There was a guardhouse on the left side of the arch, and two large metal gates in the archway across the road itself. Lockhart could see at least a dozen guards outside the guardhouse. There were prisoners too, some of whom were marching toward them, presumably being herded back to the camp. Once again, Lockhart looked for Anna among their faces, simultaneously clutching the cone inside his pocket, but he stopped himself. For the purposes of the mission, she was not here. She was an irrelevance compared to all those other people he was here to save; just one life set against so many thousands, so many millions.

What surprised Lockhart was the lack of infrastructure around the entrance. Apart from the guardhouse, there were no other buildings. It was discreet, quiet, and presumably practically invisible from the air. It felt eerie, almost otherworldly. It seemed incredible that there was a vast factory only a few yards away, and yet there was hardly any sign of it. It could have been the entrance to nothing more than a modest coal mine. It wasn’t ominous enough, Lockhart thought, to act as the gateway to an underground hell that was producing the instruments of mayhem.

Malcolm stopped the truck at the request of a young untersturmführer—a junior officer. It was just as Lockhart suspected—things were getting a lot tighter, a lot more problematic. Once again, he and Strasser got down from the cab.

“Good morning, Untersturmführer!” Lockhart said, breezily.

“Heil Hitler, Hauptsturmführers!” the officer replied. Lockhart was relieved to see that he had returned his smile.

“And what have you got for us this fine Sunday morning?” asked the untersturmführer.

Lockhart handed over the documents, resolving that he wasn’t going to be seduced by the young officer’s friendly manner. It would be too dangerous to allow himself to be lulled into relaxation. If anything, he had to be more on his guard than when dealing with a sour old NCO.

“I see this comes straight from the top,” said the untersturmführer. “Signed by the Brigadeführer, no less.”

“That’s right,” said Lockhart. “It’s an extremely sensitive piece of equipment.”

The officer took his time studying the papers. He looked slightly puzzled.

“Is there a problem, Untersturmführer?” Lockhart asked.

The man looked up at Lockhart and smiled.

“No, I don’t think so,” he said. “Why? Should there be a problem?”

“No,” said Lockhart with a shrug. “But you know what it’s like. The more forms there are, the more hassle there is.”

“Quite! If only you knew how many of these forms I have to look at every day!”