Can I have a drink?”

“Soon. Are you sure?”

“Yes.”

“It’s just that you’ve already lied to me, Major.”

Koehler shook his head.

“I didn’t lie. I forgot. I was confused. I’m not used to coming home and finding detectives in my apartment.”

“Of course,” Neumann replied and looked at March. “Who is?”

“Criminals,” replied March, speaking for the first time since Koehler had arrived.

Schwarz stood up and sauntered across the room, jumped up onto the settee, and pulled with his claws a few times. The sound of the fabric being dragged caused Koehler to look across; Neumann followed his gaze and then looked back at him.

“He’ll ruin the furniture,” Neumann said.

“He’s a kitten.”

“It’s being locked up all day, it drives them crazy,” said March quietly.

Koehler looked at March, then Neumann, and shifted in his chair.

“You said there was a robbery?”

“Did your wife say what her plans were today?” Neumann gave nothing away.

Koehler shrugged. “No.”

“You didn’t ask?”

“No.”

Neumann frowned, wrote something down, then looked up again.

“I checked. Your wife normally lives in Germany?”

“Yes.”

“She is on holiday here?”

“Yes, while I’ve been recuperating. I could really do with that drink.”

“Of course. Your wounds, how are they?” Neumann gestured with the pencil toward Koehler’s damaged hand.

“As well as can be expected.”

“You’re a hero.”

“I’m a soldier.”

“Yes.” Neumann smiled. “Of course you are.”

“Is my wife all right?”

“Interesting,” March said from behind Koehler, who had to shift in the chair to see the other man.

“What is?”

“You’re asking how your wife is.”

“I’m concerned.”

“You weren’t concerned when she didn’t come home this evening.” March spoke flatly, matter-­of-­factly, no accusation in his tone, just a simple statement of fact as he saw it.

Koehler had to swallow down a lump of anger that caught in his throat; he turned away from March and looked back to Neumann.

“I remember now, she said she was staying with a friend.” As the words came out Koehler was aware how pathetic they sounded, and regretted them immediately. He stood up, crossed to the drinks cabinet, and poured a brandy. He turned, holding the bottle to the two policemen, who both ignored it, but watched him.

“Who?” Neumann said after Koehler took a sip of the brandy and then topped up his glass again.

“I’m sorry?”

“Who is your wife staying with?”

“I . . .” Koehler floundered and Neumann leaned forward.

“Yes?”

“A friend. I didn’t catch her name, someone she met in my office. I wasn’t really listening. I’m very busy.” Koehler flushed.

Can I tell them what has happened? he thought. Maybe they can help?

Neumann leaned back and looked at Koehler.

“A friend?”

“Yes.”

Neumann rubbed a finger across his top lip while staring at Koehler. Eventually he spoke again.

“I’m surprised you weren’t worried enough by her absence to call us. After all, London is a dangerous city.”

“I was going to call you. I went out looking for them, and then when I couldn’t find them, I was going to call you.”

Neumann nodded, doubtfully and slowly.

“Forgive me, Major, but I don’t believe you.” The words hung in the air and Koehler left them there, unanswered.

“Where did you look?” March said behind him, but this time Koehler didn’t turn around. His eyes stayed on Neumann, aware that the older man was pulling the strings, not March.

“It doesn’t matter if you don’t believe me, it is the truth,” Koehler said, his voice steadied by the warmth of the brandy, his mind made up. He’d figure out a way to get Lotte and Anja, and say nothing to these two flatfoot idiots.

Neumann sighed, looked at the notebook, and nodded.

“Fine, thank you, Major. I’ll be leaving March here tonight, in case your wife returns. She may have information about the robbery, which will help us greatly if we can speak to her as soon as possible.”

“I’ll call you when she comes home.”

“March will stay with you.” Neumann pointed to his colleague at the door.

“There is no need.”

“Oh, but there is, there really is.”

“He isn’t staying here.”

“The only alternative is we arrest you now, I’m afraid.”

“This is an outrage. I’m an officer of the SS. You have no right.”

“What is an outrage, Major, is that you are an officer of the SS whose English secretary disappeared without a trace last year. The same English secretary you were having an affair with for eighteen months, I hasten to add. Now, your wife and daughter disappear in the same manner? That, I’m afraid, is the outrage, and, more important for you, sufficient grounds for us to arrest you.”

The breath seemed to evaporate in Koehler’s lungs as he looked at Neumann, who gave a weary smile in return.

“I’ve been asking a few questions this evening, Major, so I’m sure you will understand my concerns. Your secretary disappears in mysterious circumstances, closely followed by your wife . . .