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made a detailed reconnaissance of the area, and as darkness fell I led Gunther, Neumann and Berndt down a narrow road that brought us close to our objective. I had studied detailed plans until the terrain and the approach were etched upon my brain. Leaving Berndt, who was youngest, butamong the most reliable, with the bicycles, we crept through the undergrowth until we reached the walls of a formal garden. Thanks to our training we were as at home in the darkness as in daylight, though the trees cast grotesque, intimidating moonlit shadows on the ground around us. We followed the walls until we came to a gate, which took the work of only a few moments to open. The schloss lay on the far side of a broad, cropped lawn and I left Neumann by the gate to act as look-out while Gunther and I ran forward over the grass. We were halfway when Gunther froze and gave a little mew of terror. My heart stopped and I scanned the darkness for the threat. There! A solitary figure almost directly in front of us. Gunther turned and I could see the panic flashing in his wide eyes. I made a calming motion and he backed towards me.
    ‘What do we do?’
    ‘Wait,’ I whispered. I studied the crouching figure blocking our way to the house. If we had seen him, surely he would have seen us. Maybe he had his back to us. The minutes ticked by and still he didn’t make his move.
    ‘Scheisse.’
    ‘What is it?’
    I walked forward and touched the figure on his unyielding shoulder. He was a boy of around our own age, but dressed in archaic clothing, kneeling with his hands together in supplication in front of him. Hecould do us no harm, because he was carved from stone.
    ‘Come. We’re wasting time.’
    Jamie had to pause because his mouth was so dry. True or false, the tension of Wulf Zeigler’s memoir spanned the decades. It took a long draught of Adam Steele’s Burgundy before he was ready to continue in the footsteps of the Hitler Jugend leader. He continued reading.
    The house loomed over us, massive and threatening, the moonlight painting the stones silver. I shivered as I moved into its shadow. It was a place of myth and legend. The man who had built it was long dead, but it was as if his presence was all around us. I knew I must quickly thrust this foolishness from my mind. From this moment on we were on a war footing. We had trained often using a building of similar proportions on the outskirts of Dortmund, and Gunther followed as I dropped to the ground and slipped round the corner, keeping my silhouette to a minimum. We squirmed through what must be a rose garden – and by the scent, one which had been recently manured – ignoring the thorns that clawed at our flesh and clothing. Eventually we reached the base of a thick stem of ancient ivy that had attached itself to the house. I grasped hold of the stem and Gunther made a back so that I was able to boost myself the first two metres or so with comparativeease, before hauling myself into the thick foliage where I would be hidden from anyone below. When he saw I was safely in position, Gunther withdrew to his place beside Neumann, leaving me alone. One of the reasons I had been chosen for the assignment was my slight frame. It was obvious by now that the way here had been paved for me and I wondered as I climbed why whoever had been my pathfinder could not have carried out the mission in my stead. Only in later years did I realize my guide must have been a highly placed agent too important to risk on such an unlikely mission. High to my right, and just above the level of the foliage, lay a darkened window barely large enough to allow a child access. Everything depended on whether the ivy stems to which I clung were strong enough to hold my weight. If not, I had an alternative, but much more perilous, route. I held my breath as I inched my way towards the window, as if the act would somehow reduce my weight. I could feel the stems beneath my feet narrowing and becoming more fragile and I