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Tayte found a taxi soon after leaving the pedestrianised Marienplatz area. He checked the street map on his phone and asked the taxi driver to drop him off a few blocks from his intended destination, just in case he’d underestimated his opponents’ resourcefulness. If the address of
Kaufmann und Kaufmann
was known to the FWK, which Tayte fully imagined it was, then Tobias Kaufmann’s door was the last door he wanted them to see him knocking on.

He thought Tobias looked tired and more than a little distressed as he greeted him. His eyes were red and his beard was knotted, as though he’d been pulling at it all night and half the morning. If Tayte was right about who the man that had just been murdered was, Tobias Kaufmann had every reason to be distressed.

‘Come in, quickly!’ Kaufmann said. He was looking past Tayte and his bunch of flowers as he spoke, looking out into the street, which had been quiet when Tayte arrived. ‘I hope you weren’t followed.’

‘I don’t believe so,’ Tayte said.

‘Good, good. Well come on up.’

Tayte followed Kaufmann up to his offices and through to the same back-office area he and Jean had visited before—to the Strobel room, as Kaufmann had called it. There was no sign of Herr Kaufmann senior on this occasion.

‘The police contacted me this morning,’ Kaufmann said as they sat down.

‘I know,’ Tayte said. Then he told him about the text message he’d received the night before and how it had been the catalyst to a series of events that saw him being arrested for murder. ‘It was a set up, of course,’ he added. ‘I believed the message I received must have been either from you or your insider at the FWK, which was clearly what I was supposed to believe. When I saw the dead body lying at my feet, I realised what was going on. I told the police I thought you might know something about who their murder victim was.’

Kaufmann drew a sharp breath. ‘He was our insider, yes. He was also the son of a good friend of mine.’

‘I’m very sorry to hear that. I had no idea.’

‘No, of course you didn’t. I suspect now that this whole story about Strobel coming to Munich was just a ruse to draw him out. I fear that his is yet another life to chalk up to the Strobel death toll. I sincerely hope it will be the last, but of course we’re no closer to finding him.’

‘My partner, Jean Summer, found an interesting piece of information last night,’ Tayte said. ‘Right now I don’t know if it means anything, but—’

‘I’d be glad to hear it,’ Kaufmann cut in, clearly eager to listen to any new leads.

‘Well, I can’t prove anything just yet,’ Tayte said, ‘but I believe that Trudi Strobel’s daughter is Johann Langner’s personal nurse, Ingrid Keller.’

‘I see,’ Kaufmann said, raising his eyebrows. ‘We know a little about Trudi Strobel, of course. Although she’s never given any statements about her husband. She consistently refuses to talk to anyone about him. One thing that’s always struck me as odd is where her apparent wealth comes from. She’s set up very nicely, and yet she was left close to penniless after the war.’

‘Yes, I read about that,’ Tayte said. ‘The Strobel fortunes were seized and her family disowned her, cutting her off from any inheritance. Although there’s been plenty of time to make a little money between then and now.’

‘Well, that’s just the thing. Trudi never remarried, and we know from various records that she’s neither worked nor owned a business. There’s a lot of speculation suggesting she gets her money from Volker Strobel, for her silence perhaps, but nothing has ever been proven.’

Another possibility occurred to Tayte. ‘Or the money could be coming from Johann Langner,’ he said. ‘We know Langner is a very wealthy man, and I believe there’s a strong possibility that Langner is Ingrid Keller’s father. What if he’s been paying her child maintenance, off the record?’

‘Hmm . . .’ Kaufmann mused. ‘An affair between Trudi Strobel and her husband’s former best friend?’

‘It fits well enough,’ Tayte said, ‘and I can’t see how else Keller came to be Langner’s personal nurse. I’d put Ingrid Keller in her mid-fifties, so she was born around 1960. Langner served ten years in prison for war crimes from 1945 to 1955, so maybe he went to see Trudi soon after he was released. Whether it’s true or not, I aim to bluff it and tell Trudi Strobel I know Langner’s the father. I’m hoping neither she nor Langner will want that made public, at least enough for Trudi to agree to see me.’

‘I’d love the opportunity to talk to Trudi Strobel,’ Kaufmann said, ‘and I wish you luck, but as I’ve said, she’s never given any interviews about Volker Strobel before.’

‘I figure it’s got to be worth a shot,’ Tayte said. ‘And I’ll be coming at it from a new angle—Johann Langner.’

‘Anything’s worth trying at this stage,’ Kaufmann agreed. He began to pull thoughtfully at his beard. ‘If this discovery does get you an interview, be sure to come back and tell me all about it, won’t you?’

‘Yes, of course,’ Tayte said. ‘That’s if I can get in touch with her before I head back to London with Jean.’

‘You’re going home? When?’

‘As soon as Jean can leave the hospital and it’s safe for her to fly. She was in a car accident this morning. She says it was deliberate.’

‘Is she okay?’

Tayte nodded. ‘She seems to be, but it’s made me think again about whether we should stick around any longer than we need to. Munich’s becoming too dangerous a place for us.’

Tobias Kaufmann shook his head with an air of despair. ‘I’ve been attacked myself. We even had a fire here about fifteen years ago. I’m sure that was deliberate, too. Thankfully, it was put out before too much damage was done. I think by now the people protecting Strobel know us Kaufmanns won’t be scared off, so they leave us alone. Either that or after all these years of trying they know we’ll never find him. These people will scare anyone off the Strobel scent if they believe them to be a threat. Which is what excited me about you when you first came to see us.’

Tayte thought Kaufmann had made a good point, as Jean had earlier. He and Jean had to be a threat to Strobel, or why go to such lengths to scare them off? Tayte didn’t like to think of anyone scaring him off an assignment, especially his own assignment, but he knew it was selfish just to consider himself in this. Jean had been right though. All the while he had to remain in Munich, he was determined to dig as deeply as he could for the answers he hoped to find, and if that meant bringing Volker Strobel to justice, whether the man was his grandfather or not, then that was fine by him.

‘When I called to say I was coming to see you,’ Tayte said, ‘you told me you had some good news for me?’

‘Ah, yes. Possibly some very good news. We’ve had clearance for you to go and see a woman called Jan Statham at the
Standesamt München
—the civil registration office where the births, marriages, and deaths for Munich are recorded. She’s been briefed to let you have access to the records you need to see, although you’re not permitted to remove or photocopy anything.’

‘Can I take notes?’

‘Yes, of course. I’m told Jan Statham is British, so you won’t have any language issues, and she’ll be able to help you with document translations. She’s lived and worked in Germany for a good many years.’

‘That’s great,’ Tayte said, smiling broadly. ‘When can she see me?’

‘Whenever you’re ready. She has your name. I’ll give you her telephone number at the
Standesamt
so you can call ahead.’

The Munich
Standesamt
was on Ruppertstrasse in the Ludwigsvorstadt-Isarvorstadt district, a short distance southwest of Munich’s city centre. It was just after midday and Tayte was in a taxi on his way there, having called the number Tobias Kaufmann had given him for Jan Statham, who had been able to see him right away. Before Tayte left the offices of
Kaufmann und Kaufmann,
Tobias had also given him the contact details he had for Trudi Strobel. Tayte already knew where she lived, having written to her twice before leaving England. He’d planned to go and knock on Trudi’s door that very afternoon while he waited for Jean to get the all clear from the hospital, but as Tobias had been able to furnish him with a telephone number, he now punched it into his phone.

Tayte’s palms began to feel clammy as he waited for his call to be answered. From what Tobias had told him about Trudi’s financial situation, he didn’t expect her to answer the phone herself, and he wasn’t wrong. The voice that greeted him belonged to a female, but she sounded far too young to be Trudi. He thought she must be a housekeeper or perhaps a carer of some kind.

‘
Familie Strobel, Guten Tag
.’

‘
Sprechen Sie Englisch?
’ Tayte said, hopefully.

‘A little. Who is this, please?’

‘My name is Jefferson Tayte. I’d like to speak to Trudi Strobel.’

‘
Frau Strobel nimmt keine Anrufe entgegen
.’

‘Excuse me?’

‘No calls.’

Tayte wasn’t going to be put off this time. ‘Please tell her I know about Ingrid Keller. Do you understand?’

‘Yes. Wait please.’

Tayte waited, absently watching the city streets pass by outside the taxi window. He didn’t have to wait long.

‘This is Trudi Strobel. What do you want?’

Tayte wasn’t sure why he felt so nervous, but he did. ‘My name’s Jefferson Tayte,’ he said, thankful that Trudi appeared to speak very good English. ‘I wrote to you about—’

‘Yes, I know who you are,’ Trudi cut in. ‘I told you I didn’t want to speak to you.’

But you are speaking to me
, Tayte thought, considering it a good sign. He thought she could just as well have told her young helper to hang up the phone, but she hadn’t. ‘I know about Ingrid Keller,’ Tayte repeated. ‘I know she’s your daughter.’

‘Yes, and what of it?’

It was time to deliver the bluff. ‘Well, I also know that her father is Johann Langner, who used to be your husband’s best friend, and I have the feeling you’d rather I kept that to myself.’

‘Are you threatening me, Mr Tayte?’

Tayte didn’t like to think of it that way; he knew it was an idle threat he wouldn’t follow through with, but his time in Munich was fast running out and he really wanted this interview. ‘Look, as I said in my letters, I’m just trying to trace my family, and I believe you might be able to help. I’d like to come over and talk to you, that’s all.’

The call went silent for so long that Tayte thought he’d lost the connection. ‘Hello?’

‘Yes, I’m still here,’ Trudi said. ‘Very well. You can call at five this afternoon.’

Tayte was only partway through thanking her when the call ended. He put his phone away, considering that his hunch seemed to have been right. Trudi had certainly not denied that Johann Langner was Ingrid Keller’s father, but he wondered again whether it meant anything in the context of his investigation. If it did, then right now Tayte couldn’t see what. The discovery had given him an interview with Trudi Strobel, though, whom thus far he couldn’t rule out as being his paternal grandmother.

As the taxi turned into Ruppertstrasse and pulled up outside the offices of the Munich
Standesamt
, Tayte thought ahead to the records Jan Statham was about to show him, hoping they might shed some light on the matter. Perhaps they would give him some insight into what had happened between the two friends and the girl during the Second World War. He felt sure that Johann’s and Ava’s relationship had not continued beyond it. Langner’s son, Rudi, knew very little about Ava, and he had certainly never met her, or heard his father mention her outside of that brief period during the war when they were married.

So what had become of Ava Bauer?

Chapter Twenty-Seven

France. The Western Front. 5 August, 1944.

Neither the onset of evening, nor the warm breeze at the window offered Johann any perceptible respite from what had been yet another hot and sticky day in Normandy. He drew contemplatively on his cigarette as he sat in his room and blew the smoke along with the breeze where it began to spiral into the room. He had been billeted in a house with three other officers of similar rank near Flers while the
Leibstandarte
, now a full Panzer Division, assembled prior to their next action, which Johann knew would be soon. The familiar pre-battle nerves he always felt as he awaited orders, which had been stretched to breaking point several times over since the war began, were suppressed for now because of an alarming message he had recently received from Volker. He took the slip of paper from his pocket again, still ruminating on its contents, when a tap-tap at the door denied him the chance to read it again.