He started to hand the papers to Lockhart. Just as Lockhart reached out to take them, the untersturmführer pulled them back.

“There is one thing,” he said.

“Yes?” said Lockhart, doing his best not to show concern. Inside, his heart had started to throb unbearably hard.

“It’s probably nothing,” the untersturmführer said. “I’m sure it’s just an administrative thing, but normally I get the first form in duplicate. I keep one, you keep the other. Do you not have it?”

“No,” said Lockhart, “I only received the one you’ve seen. Did you get another one, Carl?”

“No,” said Strasser. “This was all we were given.”

The junior officer tapped his chin with his finger, evidently deciding whether to let them through. He was clearly enjoying his moment of authority over these two senior officers.

“You see,” he continued, “I’m not authorized to let you through unless I have both forms. I’m sorry, but that’s the way it is.”

What would be natural? Lockhart asked himself. Indignation would be the most likely response if one were guilt-free.

“I know you have your orders, Untersturmführer,” he said with an air of forced patience, “but what are we supposed to do? Drive back to Berlin to pick up another sheet of paper? Wait for one to arrive in the post? You can see that our consignment is urgently required.”

“Yes, yes, I can see that. It’s just that I do not have the authority to let consignments into Mittelwerk without the necessary documentation.”

Fuck, thought Lockhart, the man was implacable. It was time to call his bluff.

“Isn’t there someone you can phone, Untersturmführer, someone senior to both of us?”

Before the officer could reply, another truck drew up behind them.

“Please wait,” said the untersturmführer. “Let me deal with this other truck. Look—why don’t you pull up over there and then I’ll come back to you?”

“Fine,” said Lockhart, with a hint of annoyance. “Fine.”

The two men got back into the cab, and Lockhart told Malcolm to park the truck a few yards from the entrance, but to keep the engine running.

“What’s the problem, sir?” Malcolm asked.

“Red tape,” said Lockhart. “Bloody red tape.”

Lockhart turned to Strasser.

“What do you think?” he asked.

“I’d say we’re in trouble,” Strasser replied. “Whoever he phones isn’t going to have heard of us. When he finds that out, I wouldn’t be surprised if he has us all arrested.”

“Shit,” said Lockhart. “We’re so damn close! I’ve half a mind just to storm through those gates.”

Strasser chewed it over.

“Maybe that’s not such a bad idea,” he said. “We all know that surprise counts for a lot.”

“But we’ll probably get massacred before we’ve even gone a few yards.”

“I don’t fancy our chances after our untersturmführer has made his phone call,” said Strasser.

“You’re right,” said Lockhart.

They sat in silence for a moment. Lockhart looked back at the other truck, and saw the untersturmführer going through the routine of bureaucracy.