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Tayte highlighted Kurt Bauer’s place of residence. ‘I don’t suppose this address falls under the Munich
Standesamt
, does it?’

Jan adjusted her glasses and took a closer look. ‘No, Ingolstadt is to the north of Munich. I can call them.’

Tayte checked his watch again. He had no idea how much longer Jean would be at the hospital, but he supposed she must be waiting on her results by now. As for his research, he wanted to follow every lead open to him while he was there.

‘Would you mind?’ he said, starting to feel a little awkward because of all the running around Jan was doing on his behalf.

Jan didn’t seem to mind in the least. She sprang to her feet. ‘Wait there and I’ll see if I can rustle up another cup of coffee for you while I’m at it.’

Tayte didn’t know what he’d done to deserve such kindness and enthusiasm, but he was grateful. ‘Thank you,’ he said with a wide smile on his face. ‘I really do appreciate it.’

As Jan left the room and Tayte sat back with his thoughts, he took out his phone and pulled up Jean’s number. He thought he’d try to see how she was doing, to gauge how much time he had, but his call went to voicemail. He figured she was somewhere inside the hospital complex, where phones had to be switched off. As he cleared the call down, he saw Tobias Kaufmann’s number on his recent calls list and tried him again. This time Tobias picked up.

‘Tobias, it’s JT. I’ve tried you a few times already. I figured you must be—’

‘What a morning!’ Tobias said, cutting Tayte short. ‘The police have been back. I’ve had the fire service in, and the security people. It’s a disaster!’

‘I’m sure you must be very busy, so I won’t keep you,’ Tayte said. ‘I was just wondering what you were going to say last night. You told me you’d been following the money.’

‘Yes, I was going to show you something, but now I can’t find it. I have some interesting financial records for you to see, but the place is in such a state, I’m afraid they could be anywhere. That’s if they’re still readable. Everything’s wet from the sprinklers!’

‘I see. Well, perhaps I could drop by with Jean this afternoon. If you’ve not found them by then we could lend a hand.’

‘I could certainly use a few helping hands around here, that’s for sure,’ Tobias said. ‘Amir refuses to come in. Mind you, who can blame him after what happened? By the way, I have your briefcase.’

‘Great. I meant to ask you about that. Is it okay?’

‘It’s about the only thing in this place that is.’

In the background, Tayte could hear Tobias moving things around, presumably while holding his phone to his ear. There was a grating sound, followed by a thud and a curse. Tayte thought he’d better leave him to it.

‘We’ll come over just as soon as we can,’ he said, feeling more than a little sorry for the man.

‘Okay, I’ll see you.’

There was another clatter in Tayte’s ear, and he thought Tobias must have dropped the phone because a second later the call ended. He heaved a sigh as he turned back to the desk and the records in front of him. His thoughts turned to Ava again. He hoped he was right about her having had a child. He began to doubt himself, wondering whether his need to find his family hadn’t driven him to make rash decisions, led by nothing more than wishful thinking.

‘There has to be a child,’ he told himself, considering that he had biological parents and grandparents, just like everyone else. He had to come from somewhere—from someone. ‘And why not Ava Bauer?’

Keep digging, Jefferson . . .

Those familiar words echoed through Tayte’s mind, but they were not his words. They belonged to his old friend, Marcus Brown. Tayte could see his face now, uttering words of encouragement as he had always done in the past. ‘Keep digging. Never stop until you find what you’re looking for.’ It was something of a genealogist’s mantra between them, and Tayte planned to adhere to it.

‘There has to be a child,’ he told himself again.

Chapter Thirty-Five

Munich. 26 April 1945.

Johann Langner spent four days in Gilching. Having collapsed by the fireside in the company of his host, she had put him to bed where he drifted in and out of consciousness in a state of constant delirium. In his wakeful moments he was aware of Frau Olberg watching over him, soothing his brow with cold towels, until gradually the savage images of war that would make him cry out in his sleep, succumbed to peace. On the morning of the third day, his fever broke, and by the afternoon he felt well enough to get out of bed, his determination to recover having been fuelled by his need to find Ava.

Johann’s legs still felt weak as he pedalled through the outskirts of Munich on Martha’s rattling old bicycle. Whatever its state, Johann was grateful for it. He had set out from Gilching early, beneath an overcast sky, and he had taken frequent breaks out of necessity along the way, avoiding the busiest places as best he could. Johann was also grateful for the civilian clothes he now wore, which belonged to Ava’s uncle, Heinz Schröder. He had chosen the dullest clothing he could find in Herr Schröder’s wardrobe so as not to stand out, and he wore a cap pulled down over his brow. Martha had warned him that many of the people had turned against the military, the SS in particular, because the people blamed them for the lack of food, and the destruction and poverty the war had brought about. She feared that if he wasn’t picked up by the Gestapo and shot for desertion, then the people of Munich would almost certainly try to lynch him from the nearest tree if they knew he was a member of the once elite
Leibstandarte
.

It was late morning by the time Johann turned the bicycle onto Landsberger Strasse, which followed the main railway tracks to the station terminal. Here, evidence of the bombings was soon everywhere he looked—the railway having been a key target for the Allied air strikes. He was looking for a public telephone booth. He was desperate to speak to Volker and he knew he couldn’t just cycle up to the gates of the concentration camp at Dachau and ask to see him as he had before. Things were very different now that he had no papers allowing him to be there.

As the bomb damage only seemed to increase the closer he came to the main railway terminal, Johann decided that any telephone booths still standing in the area were unlikely to work. So he made a turn and headed towards the centre of the city, which he had hoped to avoid. As the streets became busier he found himself looking away from everyone he passed, and from every vehicle that passed him. Then somewhere along Sonnenstrasse he saw the word
Fernsprecher
—long distance. The red telephone booth had a small queue standing outside it, which was a good sign. Clearly it was in working order.

Johann cycled past it and turned into a narrow alley. He propped the bicycle against the wall and pretended to adjust the chain so as not to arouse suspicion as he watched the booth. He had a frustrating wait as it seemed that every time someone left the queue, another person joined it. This pattern continued for thirty minutes. Then when the last person entered the booth, he pulled his cap further down over his eyes and left the alley to wait outside it, hands thrust deep into his pockets, nervously flicking at the coins Martha had given him. His shoulders were scrunched and his head was bowed low. When the occupant came out, he turned away and coughed into his hand. Then he slipped inside.

Volker had previously given Johann a telephone number for the administration building at Dachau concentration camp, and Johann had written it in his
Soldbuch
—the personal identification and pay book given to him as a new recruit when he joined the
Leibstandarte
, which he had since been obliged to carry everywhere with him. He lifted the handset from its hook on the side of the receiver box, inserted his coins, and dialled the number. A few seconds later the call was answered.

‘Hello?’ Johann said. The line was poor. ‘Could I please speak to
Lagerführer
Strobel?’

‘Please state your business.’

‘It’s a personal matter. I need to speak to him urgently.’

‘Are you family?’

‘No, I’m a friend.’

‘Well, I’m sure you can understand that
Lagerführer
Strobel is a very busy man. I cannot interrupt his duties without first verifying the urgency of your call.’

‘I told you, my reasons for calling are personal. If you can just let him know I’m on the line, I’m sure he’ll want to speak to me.’

Johann was squeezing the handset tightly in frustration. He wanted to slam it against one of the telephone booth windows, but he constrained himself. Outside he could see that there were already two people waiting.

After a considerable pause, the man at the other end of the line sighed and said, ‘What is your name, please?’

‘Does it matter?’

In a more aggressive tone, he asked again, ‘Your name, please.’

‘It’s Langner. He’ll know who I am.’

‘One moment. I’ll see if
Lagerführer
Strobel is available.’

Johann inserted the last of his coins as he waited, listening to the static clicks on the line for what felt like an eternity. Outside, he saw that the queue had built further, and he could see that those who had been waiting longest were growing impatient. Someone tapped on the window and he turned his back to them.

‘Hello? Herr Langner?’

‘Yes, hello,’ Johann said with urgency.

‘I’m afraid
Lagerführer
Strobel is not available. I’m sorry.’

It was not what Johann wanted to hear. ‘Did he give you any message for me?’

‘No, there was no message.’

Johann couldn’t believe it. He began to doubt then whether this man had found Volker at all. Surely his friend would have something to say to him.

‘Did you speak to him yourself?’

The man’s tone became impatient. ‘As I said,
Lagerführer
Strobel is a very busy man. Goodbye.’

The call ended and Johann just stared into space for several seconds as he tried to understand the situation. Volker, it seemed, did not wish to talk to him. Another tap-tap at the window snapped him out of his thoughts and he quickly hung up the handset. There was a sarcastic cheer from someone in the queue as he opened the door and left at a pace with his head bowed low, knowing that if anyone so much as saw the youthfulness in his eyes, they might stop him to question why he was not fighting for the
Reich
in what now seemed to Johann to be its dying days.

Johann continued south along Sonnenstrasse, pedalling as fast as his limited strength would allow before dizziness threatened to overcome him. He slowed down, and he was panting hard as he turned off onto Lindwurmstrasse in the Ludwigsvorstadt district, heading for the borough of Sendling, southwest of the city, where Ava and her parents lived. He had hinged so much hope on the belief that his friend would have at least some answers for him, but now that hope had been dashed. He tried to tell himself that Volker was simply too busy to speak to him—as the person he had spoken to on the telephone had suggested. With the Allied forces pressing in from the west and the Soviet army coming ever closer from the east, he supposed that Volker had far more important matters to attend to. He suspected there was more to it, however, and that troubled him.

Johann’s only idea now was to return to Ava’s home. He thought perhaps a neighbour might have seen or heard something that could prove useful to him in his search. He knew he would be running a great risk as he would have to knock and ask questions at every door without first knowing who would answer, but it was a risk he had to take. The road he was on ran into Sendling, which was essentially a residential quarter. When he reached the end of Lindwurmstrasse, he turned left, heading towards the spire of St Margaret’s church at Margaretenplatz. The area seemed eerily quiet, as though the soul had been stripped from the place in the time since he last saw Ava there.

He passed the church and turned into the road where Ava lived, wondering whose door to knock on first. He could see Ava’s home further down on the right. He rode up to it, thinking to start with the immediate neighbours, but when he pulled up at the kerbside and dismounted the bicycle, he glanced at the house again and noticed that some of the boards were missing. He was sure of it. A week or so ago, when he had called at the house before going to Gilching, the doorway had been fully boarded. Now there were at least four planks missing from the lower section. His hopes lifted when he thought that perhaps Ava and her parents had returned home, but he was equally conscious of the fact that the boards could have been removed by looters.

Johann approached the house with caution and saw the missing boards in a loose pile to the side of the porch. The door was set back and just visible through the gap, enough to see that it was ajar. He ducked his head and passed through, teasing the door further open. Once inside, he was greeted by a stale and musty odour. The air was cold and it was too dark to see much at first, but his eyes quickly adjusted and he knew the place well enough. Ahead of him, a narrow staircase ran up from the entrance hall to the first floor. The family room was on his left and the kitchen and dining areas were straight ahead. He stepped further in and suddenly froze as he heard a rattling sound coming from the family room. The door was open and Johann stepped carefully towards it, until he was standing in the frame.