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‘It upset me, Victor, I can tell you that. Couldn’t eat a bite of lunch.’ The Medical Officer shook his head in brief silent anguish. ‘I’ve seen it before, Victor. Exhibitionism.’

‘What do you mean?’ asked Löwenherz.

‘That surprises you, does it?’ Hans Furth, Kroondijk’s Medical Officer, pointed to a cupboard which contained his bottle of brandy and glasses but Löwenherz declined. ‘With all you fit young men a doctor doesn’t have much of a chance to show his mettle. My job has become that of a psychiatrist.’

‘Psychiatry? I thought you disdained that Jewish science, Hans.’

Hans smiled. ‘Go back as far as Henry the Navigator and you’ll find that navigation is a Jewish science, but that doesn’t mean we can ignore it.’

‘If you go back far enough, you’ll probably discover that gravity is a Jewish science,’ said Löwenherz.

‘That’s in order. It’s the Luftwaffe’s job to ignore gravity.’ Hans chuckled.

‘Himmel, you said, was an exhibitionist,’ said Löwenherz.

‘Life is a game for me, Victor. If you sat behind this desk you’d watch the whole panorama of human life pass: tragedy, humour, honour, disgrace, death and injury.’

‘And you reported your suspicions to the SIPO?’ persisted Löwenherz.

‘Mustn’t get on the wrong side of the law, Victor.’

‘But only last week you said you’d never voted for the Nazis and wished Austria had never come under Nazi control.’

Hans Furth leaned well back in his swivel chair. A plump man in his middle thirties, he was Austrian by birth, doctor by training and airman by conscription. He affected the smart leather zip-front jacket that the flyers liked and many of their youthful mannerisms. His clothes were clean and well pressed and his thick black hair was freshly washed and combed straight back. His face was ruddy, his eyes blue, and his small, unnaturally red, girlish mouth was always ready to talk and smile. He smoked his cigar carefully without spilling the ash anywhere except into the ashtray and he frequently touched his face, running a fingertip along his lips or round his eyes to be sure that everything was in its rightful place. ‘You’re trying to catch me out, Löwenherz Victor,’ he smiled. It was a Viennese affectation to invert the names like that and today Löwenherz found it an irritating one.

Furth levelled his cigar like a javelin between finger and thumb. ‘I’m a working-class lad, you’re an aristocrat. Our sort gave the Nazis little or no support in the old days, Victor. Their strength came from the middle-class clerks and unemployed ex-officers: fertile ground, Victor.’

‘I’m interested in this business with Himmel,’ said Löwenherz, making one more effort to get the conversation back on his intended lines.

‘Damned interesting case,’ agreed Hans Furth. ‘I’ve been through his medical dossier again this morning and I think I’ve solved the question to some extent.’ He leaned back like a woman with uncomfortable stays and gave a matronly tug to the bottom of his short jacket.

‘How?’ asked Löwenherz.

Furth leaned forward and lowered his voice. ‘I can’t prove it, but it’s my guess that he’s not racially pure. I was reading in the paper the other day that more Jews commit thefts than Aryans do, by a considerable margin.’

‘That sounds very unscientific,’ sighed Löwenherz.

The doctor smiled at the window as if he shared a secret with the furnishings. ‘My dear Baron, you are hardly in a position to deny the effects of breeding. It took a thousand years of breeding to make you what you are. The Jews …’

‘Everyone in the world has a thousand years of breeding behind them,’ said Löwenherz irritably. ‘Perhaps these days Jews have more motive for theft than do Aryans.’

‘This is my theory,’ continued Hans Furth. ‘We Germans have been bred as a systematic nation and this fellow Hitler understands us …’

We Germans, thought Löwenherz, as he listened to the doctor’s sing-song Viennese accent, nibbling the German language like Sachertorte and showing his teeth at every bite.

‘… Revolutionize a systematic nation by means of political theory and you have an instrument. Harness the military caste to that instrument and you have a weapon. Allow the politicals to have their own armed forces – the Waffen SS – and create a climate in which they and the military are in constant and dynamic struggle and then your weapon will conquer the world.’

‘There’s still a large piece of the world unconquered,’ said Löwenherz.

‘I know,’ said Furth, smiling and nodding. ‘It’s fascinating to see what will happen.’

‘Like a game of bridge,’ said Löwenherz.

‘Better,’ said Furth. ‘Bridge was never half as exciting. My training as a doctor and as an officer has given me a unique chance to become an expert on the German psychology. Do you know, I can tell what sort of symptoms a man will have according to the rank he holds. For instance, no German NCO would dare to come in here complaining of indigestion, just as few officers come to me with foot ailments. Funny folk, we Germans, eh?’

Yes, thought Löwenherz, and if the Russians get here then this plausible joker will be occupying some comfortable seat in their military administration amusing the occupying power’s officers with these same cynical observations on German character and weakness. And they will be laughing and throwing him an extra box of cigarettes and saying, gay fellows these Austrians.

‘I don’t like any sort of unpleasantness, Victor. All I want is to be left alone.’

‘And people like Himmel try to involve you?’

‘Don’t misunderstand me, I like this fellow Himmel. But this isn’t an important enough matter for you or me to get involved with. He’s an exhibitionist, Victor. Most of the people who get into trouble are exhibitionists.’

Löwenherz could think of no response. He looked at Furth, who ran his little finger nervously along his eyebrow.

‘I didn’t invent the world or any social system in it,’ said the doctor. His smile endorsed this disclaimer. ‘Man is a crafty animal and a vicious one. You’ll never alter that, Victor. Don’t tell me that your ancestors didn’t fight, cheat and kill to win and hold your family estates.’

‘I must get along, Hans.’

‘I’ve offended you.’

‘No,’ said Löwenherz. ‘I’m sure you never offend anyone.’

Löwenherz didn’t bring up the matter of Himmel again. He knew that he would merely be treated to glib and elementary generalizations.

‘Speaking as your medical adviser,’ said Furth, ‘you could do with a couple of days’ rest. I can arrange for guns and accommodation and we’ll shoot wild pig. This business has upset me too, I can tell you. I was fond of young Himmel. The Mess will buy the meat for sausages. Take you out of yourself, Victor. What do you say?’

Löwenherz laughed, and this puzzled the doctor. ‘I’ve arranged all the shooting I can handle at present, Herr Doktor,’ he said. ‘Thanks all the same.’ He got to his feet. Perhaps there was a more direct way to handle this business.

The Alert Hut was littered: chairs empty, newspapers abandoned, amendments to operational orders unread, fur-lined jackets unneeded in the warm afternoon sun. By now Löwenherz had had a chance to think about the dossier. How many influential Luftwaffe officers would be needed to make a protest legal, or at least difficult to punish? The Medical Officer was obviously scared stiff by Blessing and Starkhof, but how many protests had already been made about the experiments? To what extent was opinion already being rallied? Perhaps the document was in the doctor’s office because the Luftwaffe Medical Inspectorate were circulating it for comment.

Starkhof could answer all these questions but Löwenherz was determined to give no information in return. The phone was best; after all one could always hang up if the fellow became objectionable.

Even from the first moment that he lifted the telephone he was nervous. His father would have known how to handle this situation but Victor didn’t. On the other hand, his father would not have handled it; he would have left it very much alone.

‘Herr Doktor Starkhof, please,’ he told the operator. There was a short pause. ‘Hello, von Löwenherz,’ said the old man. He always used the ‘von’. He knew that Löwenherz would think it uncouth but that amused him. ‘I thought you might give me a call.’

It was startling that Starkhof had guessed who was calling, and Löwenherz needed a moment or two to collect his wits.

‘It’s about the stolen dossier, of course,’ said Löwenherz.

‘Sent you one through the post, has he? Dear me, can’t think why our people failed to intercept that. Well, you make fifteen. Any idea how many others he sent?’

‘No.’

‘Pity. Any letter?’ said the old man.

‘No.’

‘No matter.’

‘Are you going to come here and collect it?’

‘Nervous, eh? Well, that’s all right, Baron. Hold on to it until tomorrow. There’s no hurry. I have fourteen copies here on my desk.’

‘There’s nowhere really secure that I can lock it, unless I give it to the Kommandeur to lock in the safe.’

‘No, no, my boy, don’t worry about it. There were nearly three hundred copies of that report circulated throughout the medical services. In Nuremberg there was a conference of ninety-five scientists discussing the report. Each of them had a copy and at least four were mislaid, so there’s no need for you to get too excited about that one copy.’

‘So it’s been circulated? Did anyone else … I mean was there? …’

An aeroplane flew low overhead rattling the windows; Löwenherz was glad of a chance to stop speaking.

Starkhof said, ‘Ah, the baron has been speaking with young Himmel, I can tell. No, of course there was no reaction, except that Doktor Rascher was sent Göring’s thanks on behalf of the Luftwaffe. He also received a letter of thanks from the Medical Inspector of the Luftwaffe and many congratulations from his medical colleagues.’

Löwenherz felt lonely, degraded and sick as his hopes drained away. Was this the way Himmel had felt when talking with him, in the cool crisp clean air? If so, Himmel’s resolution had not faltered. ‘Did you read the dossier, Herr Doktor?’

‘I did, von Löwenherz. I did.’

‘And? …’

‘What do you want me to say, von Löwenherz? If you use your brains for one moment, you will realize that I can provoke you with any treasonable or scurrilous statement that I care to invent. Afterwards I should merely plead that I did it in my line of duty. Now stop being so foolish. Go back to your aeroplanes and leave this business to me.’

‘You are not interested in my opinions?’

‘Not in the slightest, my boy. If you know nothing important, then I shall be wasting my time. If you know something important, I prefer to hear it tomorrow, when the dossier has been officially passed to my department. A dramatic break-through today would simply mean promotion for our friend Blessing. While wishing him all the good luck in the world, I am not going to work to secure a promotion for him. Tell me tomorrow.’

‘You are returning tomorrow? To arrest Himmel?’

‘Correct. It will be very quiet and discreet. My paperwork will be in order and by tomorrow morning you and your friend Kokke will have had time to reconsider your attitude. You’ll see the wisdom of cooperating with the law.’

‘What will Himmel get?’

‘Punishment? Well, that depends. If he recants, pleads guilty, cooperates with us in respect of helpers, instigators and fellow plotters or leads us on to a whole network of conspirators, then he will get ten or fifteen years.’

‘You don’t believe it was a conspiracy?’

‘No, I don’t. But if he wants to persuade me, I’ll listen. He has some Dutch civilian friends in Kroonsdijk that I’m not entirely happy about. They have more than enough butter and schnapps down there in Kroonsdijk village. Some of it is filtering back to your air base. Himmel could provide me with the chance I need to open up a big black-market racket.’

Löwenherz found the Abwehr man’s frankness disconcerting.

‘What if these documents bring Himmel support from influential Luftwaffe officers?’

‘We live in a society where influenće can be a trump card,’ said old Starkhof cagily. ‘But I’d wager that they’d face execution along with Himmel.’ Drily he added, ‘Although I’ve heard of cases where suicide cheated the law of a high-ranking victim.’

By now Löwenherz’s carefully prepared arguments had gone dry in his mouth. He felt a strong distaste for this cynical old man who had confidence enough to say things that other men only whispered.

‘You seem very sure of that?’

‘My boy, this is what I do for a living. I am not as ambitious as you; I don’t want to reform the law or judge its transgressors. I merely bring law-breakers to justice. If tomorrow your friend Himmel is making the laws and my colleague Blessing breaking them, then I will deliver him to justice with the same calm objectivity.’ There was a trace of self-mockery in old Starkhof’s voice.

‘Smug complacency, you mean,’ said Löwenherz.

‘My very sentiments,’ said Starkhof. ‘I so wish I had the Herr Oberleutnant’s fine vocabulary.’

‘Good day to you, Feldwebel Herr Doktor.’

‘Good day, my dear Baron.’