There would be no turning back now.

His assistant answered and Franz spoke with the tone of distracted indifference, as though he were doing two things at once. “Otto, have you completed the latest schedule for transporting the artworks and bullion?”

His aide Otto Hemel had been working at his broad leather topped desk. He immediately sat stiffly to attention the instant he recognised the soft authoritative voice of his superior.

Franz could tell by the stress in Otto’s shrill, crisp reply, there was a problem. “All documents are in order Grupenfurer Kaltman, as you commanded. Do you wish me to discuss them with you, Sir?”

Changing his tone to one of mild surprise Franz queried the reason. “What specifically do you have in mind?”

The efficient 25-year-old officer, would never let anything past him without fully understanding its place in the scheme of things. Kaltman had anticipated it.

“The purpose of the revision you requested is unclear to me, Sir.” Otto explained.

“Yes, I see. Bring all the documents to me and I will check them personally.” Kaltman gently replaced the handset and sat attentively, facing the tall, carved and fielded mahogany doors of his spacious room.

Otto walked in, clutching a slim file of papers under his left arm. He smartly saluted, clicked his heels, then turned and closed the door. Like an automaton, he strode back towards Kaltman and stiffly offered the file, over the desk.

In the calmest tone he could muster, in spite of his pounding heart, Franz swept his hand in a gesture from a nearby chair to the place alongside him. “Sit next to me Otto, it will make discussion easier.”

Overwhelmed by the honour, Otto sat at Kaltman’s left hand.

Taking up the file, Kaltman ran through the items on the list, comparing them with his own notes. He might be ripping off the Third Reich, but neither Otto nor anyone else would do so on his watch.

After several minutes of careful checking, the last series of 60 numbers, unremarkably prefixed with a 1-, needed explanation to Otto.

“These items with 1- in front of them are the items over which you expressed concern, are they not, Otto?”

“Yes, they are sir. My concern is that they are duplicates of items without the prefix, yet the packaging is empty. To send such items to storage when time and resources are so scarce alarms me.” The young man was suspicious as hell and being a loyal party member, would report the issue to the SS in a heartbeat, if the reason was not convincing.

Franz cleared his throat. In a low, conspiratorial voice, he faced his assistant and spoke. “As you know, the SS have recently executed the officers who stole artwork and bullion from the recent convoys we sent out. I have received orders that stipulate a decoy consignment be included in our shipment tomorrow. It appears even the SS are not immune from stealing from Germany and feathering their own nest. I know I can trust you Otto, that is why I decided to confide in you about it.”

“Thank you Grupenfurer, I am honoured to have your trust.”

Franz pondered, I wonder what you will be thinking when this all blows up in your face?

Kaltman continued. “The only people who know the detail of this deception are the two of us. I have been informed that the duplicate items are the target of the thieves. The numbers without the prefix will relate to empty packaging, just in case the specially selected team watching the convoy are unable to apprehend the thieves. An unlikely possibility, I am sure.

“The shipment with the real artworks and prefix numbers will be sent secretly from here in special vehicles, after the convoy has left. To ensure total secrecy, I am the only person who will handle that phase of the mission. Even the destination is secret, and I will go with the two vehicles to ensure safe delivery.

“Does that ease your concerns?”

The shocked expression on Otto’s face remained for almost half a minute, as he silently thought through the implications of what he had been told. The reasonableness of the plan dawned on him, which he expressed as a momentary frown and a mere puckering of his lips.