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The bar Volker had in mind for a nightcap was no more than a ten minute walk from the restaurant on Ludwigstrasse, one of Munich’s four royal avenues, having been named in honour of King Ludwig I of Bavaria. It was more in keeping with the usual type of establishment Volker chose to frequent. It was opulent, with gilt carvings on the ceiling and walls and on the many framed mirrors, whose glass reflected the soft glow of candlelight, lending to the golden aura that greeted the party as they entered.

It soon became apparent that Volker was on good terms with the proprietor here, too, because within a few minutes they were set up with a bottle of
Marillenschnaps
from Austria, at a table in the centre of the room, where everyone had a view of the tables around them, most of which were occupied. The ease with which they had been seated suggested to Johann that his friend had planned for them to go there all along, having reserved what he must have considered to be the best table in the house.

They were all set for a cordial end to what had on the whole been a pleasant evening, despite Volker’s unusual temperament, but it seemed that his sour mood continued to stalk him, rendering him silent to the point of brooding as he downed his first glass.

‘It’s a good bottle, Volker,’ Johann said, trying to encourage him into conversation.

Ava joined in. ‘Apricot
Schnaps
is my favourite,’ she said. ‘How did you know?’

‘I didn’t,’ Volker said, and then he picked up the bottle, avoiding eye contact with anyone, and poured himself another glass.

‘I like
Himbeergeist
best,’ Trudi said with a giggle. ‘I love raspberries.’

‘What about you, Johann?’ Ava asked. ‘What’s your favourite?’

Johann laughed. ‘In truth, I prefer to drink beer.’

Volker scoffed under his breath. ‘That’s because you have no breeding.’

Not wishing to ruin the evening further, Johann chose to ignore the remark, although he could have thumped Volker there and then for saying it. He watched him down another shot of
Schnaps
and reach for the bottle again.

‘Steady there, Volker. You’ve already had most of the wine this evening.’ He smiled to make light of it. ‘I don’t want to have to carry you home.’

Volker’s hand froze on the bottle. He turned to Johann and stared at him. ‘Now you think I can’t take my drink, Is that it?’

Before Johann could answer, Ava stood up. She was frowning. ‘I can’t stand any more of this,’ she said. ‘Come on, Trudi. I think we’d better leave this pair to resolve their differences without us. I’ll see you back to your accommodation.’

Johann got to his feet. ‘Ava, I—’

‘I told you what would happen, Johann. Now it’s too late.’

‘At least let me escort you?’

‘We’ll be fine by ourselves. It’s not far.’ Ava signalled for their coats.

‘Well, can I still see you tomorrow?’ Johann asked, a hint of desperation in his voice.

Ava didn’t answer straight away. She made Johann wait as she and Trudi were helped into their coats. They began to leave, and when they were almost at the door, Ava turned back.

‘Of course,’ she said. ‘I’ll see you tomorrow.’

‘Good night, Volker,’ Trudi said, her doe eyes trying to find his.

Volker gave no reply. He didn’t even look up from the table as Johann went to the door and watched the girls leave.

Returning to Volker, Johann sat heavily in the chair opposite him and slapped the table, stirring his friend from the funk he had clearly descended into.

‘Well, thank you, Volker,’ he said with no pretence at hiding the sarcasm in his tone. ‘The evening was a total disaster. You know, I’m beginning to think that our eagerness to win Ava’s affection could well turn her off both of us altogether.’

Volker stopped turning his empty glass and looked up at last. ‘Not you, Johann. I can see now that it’s you she wants. I’m sorry.’

‘It’s a bit late for that, don’t you think? It should be Ava and Trudi you’re apologising to.’

‘And I will. I have to return to my duties at Dachau in the morning, but I’ll call on her soon.’

‘So, I won’t see you again before I join my unit?’

‘No.’

‘Then this is our farewell drink.’ Johann filled both of their glasses and they clinked them together.

‘Stay safe, Johann,’ Volker said. ‘It’s a great honour for you to be serving with the
Leibstandarte
. I only wish I were joining the fight with you. Perhaps I will before the end, but my father—’

‘I know. Your father has given you camp duties because he wants to protect you.’

Volker nodded. He still appeared somewhat sombre, but Johann was pleased to see his old friend sitting opposite him again, and in part he felt sorry for him. He thought they would have made a formidable pair on the battlefield.

‘I’ll pass on your apology when I see Ava tomorrow,’ he said. ‘Perhaps it will help smooth things over before you go to see her.’

Volker smiled. ‘You see. You already have another date lined up. Ava has already chosen you, but you’re too much of a
Blödmann
to do anything about it.’ He laughed and it was refreshing to see. ‘You might as well ask her to marry you and be done with it.’

Johann laughed with him. ‘And you think she would say yes?’

Volker looked suddenly incredulous. ‘Are you blind, Johann? Isn’t it obvious? Why do you think I’ve been so moody since the restaurant?’

‘I’ve been wondering what’s come over you.’

‘It’s because I’ve lost, Johann, and I don’t like it when things don’t go my way—you know that. But if you don’t do something about it soon, I shall call on Ava every chance I get. It won’t be so easy for you to see her. While you’re off fighting, I’ll woo her into submission.’

Johann laughed again and they both downed their drinks. ‘One more
Schnaps
for my courage then,’ he said, refilling their glasses.

‘And one for friendship. I’ll miss you, Johann.’

Volker sat up and reached a hand into his pocket. When he brought it out again he was holding a small, blue velvet box. He slid it across the table.

‘I want you to have this. For Ava.’

Johann picked up the box and opened it. A sapphire and diamond ring began to sparkle in the candlelight, like sunlight over a shimmering sea.

‘It’s beautiful,’ Johann said as he took in the imposing central stone and the numerous diamonds that were clustered around it.

‘It belonged to my grandmother. I was going to give it to Ava this evening, if I thought she would accept it.’

The revelation surprised Johann. ‘You weren’t wasting any time, were you?’

‘I wanted to beat you to it, but it’s you she wants. I’m over her.’

‘Just like that?’

‘It doesn’t happen often, Johann, but I know when I’m beaten.’

Johann shook his head. ‘Must everything be a contest between us?’ He slid the ring back to Volker. ‘I can’t accept it. If not to Ava, you should give it to someone else when the time comes.’

‘Please take it, Johann. I want Ava to have it. I’m sure she’ll accept it from you. Consider it my parting gift.’

Johann didn’t know what to say. He could plainly see how much the gesture meant to Volker, and he didn’t want to offend him. He supposed it would make Volker happy to know it would still be his ring on Ava’s finger, even if he did not have Ava’s hand—a consolation prize perhaps, but it had belonged to his grandmother, or so he had said. It seemed odd to Johann that his friend would give something so precious away so easily. But then Volker Strobel had always been an odd boy, and it seemed that manhood had done little to change that.

‘Thank you,’ Johann said, drawing the ring back across the table. He took another look at it before he closed the box with a snap and slid it into his pocket, considering that a ring was just what he needed if he was going to propose to Ava at the Park Café the following afternoon.

Chapter Ten

Present day.

Although Tayte liked getting around by taxi, for convenience, and to help keep the expenses down, he’d hired a car for the week. It was a small black BMW, which he and Jean collected from the rental company early on the morning of their second day in Munich. Tayte had contacted the German Heart Centre before they set out, to enquire how Johann Langner was and whether he was able to receive visitors again. He had been given little information, other than to say that a visit was not possible at this time, so instead, he thought to contact Langner’s son. He’d arranged to meet him at the Langner art gallery and auction house that afternoon.

Right now though they had another appointment to get to, and while the car’s navigation system told Tayte that they were close to their destination in the city’s northern borough of Schwabing, Munich’s former Bohemian quarter, he was cursing himself for not anticipating just how congested Munich’s streets were likely to be. They were already running ten minutes late for their meeting with Tobias Kaufmann, a man who had dedicated his life to bringing the Demon of Dachau to justice.

The address Tayte had been given when he’d made the appointment to see Kaufmann was on a tree-lined avenue just wide enough for two cars to pass one another, with parallel parking along both sides of the road for the people working in the various offices located there. When the voice on the sat-nav told Tayte he had reached his destination, he saw the words
Kaufmann und Kaufmann
on the building beside him, and as he pulled into a vacant parking space he realised that the Nazi hunter’s day job was as a lawyer, presumably having gone into business with his son or his father.

Briefcase in hand, Tayte pressed the buzzer on the intercom at the entrance. He announced himself, adding, ‘I’m sorry we’re a little late.’

A moment later the door buzzed. Tayte pushed it open and followed Jean into a stairwell where he read a sign that told him
Kaufmann und Kaufmann
were on the first floor. They went up, and at another door they were greeted by a short, bearded man who looked to be in his mid-fifties. He wore a charcoal-coloured suit and a black skullcap—a kippah or yarmulke depending on whether the wearer spoke Hebrew or Yiddish. Tayte shot a hand out and gave the man a wide smile.

‘I’m Jefferson Tayte,’ he said. ‘This is my friend, Jean Summer.’

‘Tobias Kaufmann,’ the man replied in accented English. ‘Please, come in.’

They followed Kaufmann along a tight walkway between a few desks that were loaded with paperwork and the usual office electronica. At the end of the walkway they entered into a smaller office that was no less drowning beneath stacks of loose paper and lever-arch files. There was another man in dark apparel sitting in a corner of the room. He was a much older man with a long beard that was almost white. He, too, wore a skullcap and he had a walking cane between his legs, upon which his hands were resting.

‘This is Herr Kaufmann senior,’ Tobias said. ‘My father. He still insists on attending meetings whenever the topic is about Volker Strobel. My father was ten years old when he and the rest of my family were arrested by the Gestapo. As far as my bloodline is concerned, he is the sole survivor of the holocaust. My family were murdered at Auschwitz and Treblinka, but Elijah, perhaps because he was young and strong, was sent to the work camp at Dachau. That’s how he came to live in Munich after the war.’

‘I’m pleased to meet you, Herr Kaufmann,’ Tayte said to the older man, and Jean smiled at him and nodded.

Elijah Kaufmann just nodded back, saying nothing.

‘Don’t mind him,’ Tobias said. ‘He’s a quiet man. Did you know that before the Nazis came to power in Germany there were around ten thousand Jews living in Munich? By the end of the war there were fewer than ten. Even now, with the general population of the city having roughly doubled since then, the number has only recently reached pre-war levels.’

‘I didn’t know that,’ Tayte said. ‘But given the circumstances, I’m not surprised.’

‘No, it’s not surprising at all,’ Tobias said. ‘Please take a seat.’

Tayte had to move some papers off the chair closest to him before he could sit down. He put them on the floor beside his briefcase and they sat around a small pedestal desk as their host began to clear some space for them.

‘We call this the Strobel room,’ he said. ‘It isn’t usually in such a mess, but I’ve been going through some old files and haven’t got around to putting them all away again.’

‘Don’t worry about it,’ Tayte said. ‘It’s knowing where everything is that’s important.’

‘Very true, Mr Tayte. Very true. Now, you’re both interested in Volker Strobel, and that makes me very interested in you. What specifically has brought you here?’

Tayte showed Tobias the photograph of his mother standing outside Johann Langner’s building and proceeded to tell him what he’d told Langner the previous day, bringing him up to date with the reason he and Jean were in Munich.

‘If my mother was interested in Volker Strobel,’ he added, ‘it stands to reason that she would know about your efforts to bring him to justice. I believe she must have come to see you about him at some point. Perhaps while she was in Munich in 1963, when she had her picture taken.’