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‘Hi Jean, it’s JT. I tried to speak to you earlier. I hope everything’s okay. Anyway, I’ll try again later. Call me as soon as you can. I think I’ve made a breakthrough. I’m pretty sure I’ve found Karl—in the records at least.’

Tayte ended the call thinking about Jean waiting around at the hospital for more results, and he imagined she must be bored senseless by now. As he put his phone away, he reminded himself that he’d promised to take her back to the Munich Residence before leaving the city, and he would do everything he could to keep to that promise, despite the decision to fly home earlier than planned. He thought that was sure to cheer her up.

With
in the hour, Tayte was standing outside a pair of high wrought-iron gates in Munich’s well-to-do residential suburb of Grünwald, which was to the south of the city centre. It was a green, parkland area on the right bank of the river Isar, which the taxi driver had informed him was the most expensive municipality in Germany. It was populated with lavish mansion houses and was home to the rich and the prominent, which Tayte thought suited Johann Langner’s obvious success very well.

The early afternoon sun felt hot on Tayte’s back as he strode up to the gates and gazed along the driveway, to the house he could only just glimpse through the low branches of the trees that partially obscured his view. He stepped up to the intercom, reached out his index finger to press the button, and then he hesitated, considering that he could be on the brink of discovering a truth he had spent the last twenty-five years of his life looking for.

‘Are you ready for this, JT?’ he asked himself.

He thought back to his visit with Langner at the hospital again, and he was reminded of something else Langner had said. ‘Are you completely sure you want to find out?’ he’d asked Tayte. ‘Wherever it may lead? Whatever the repercussions?’

Tayte took a deep breath and straightened his back. ‘Hell, yes,’ he said under his breath. Then he extended his arm to the intercom and pressed the call button. ‘Hello, it’s Jefferson Tayte,’ he said, leaning closer. ‘I don’t have an appointment, but I really need to speak to Johann Langner.’ After a brief pause, and with a note of desperation, he added, ‘Please.’

Tayte withdrew from the intercom and waited. When nothing happened he stepped closer again, pressed the button and said, ‘I believe Johann Langner is my paternal grandfather. I just want to talk—to confirm things.’

There was still no response, and Tayte began to wonder whether there was anyone home. As his desperation deepened, he pressed the button a third time and said, ‘I know Ingrid Keller is your daughter, Mr Langner. Mrs Keller, that means we could be family.’

Tayte doubted whether Keller had a soft side, but he figured if she did, and if she was listening, that ought to do it. After another thirty seconds passed in silence it was clear to him that he was either wrong, or no one was listening. He stepped away from the gates, turning his back on the house, and gave a frustrated sigh. He thought over all the research, all the discoveries he and Jean had made, and he felt sure he had to be right about Ava Bauer and the child. He turned back to the gates, and this time he almost sprinted up to the intercom.

‘I know about Karl Schröder,’ he said, his voice rising. ‘He’s my father.’ He let go of the call button and in a softer voice, just for himself, he added, ‘I know he is.’

When nothing happened, Tayte stepped away again. He began to walk back to the road, thinking to sit there and wait for someone to either go in or come out, but as he did so he heard a click and a whir, and he wheeled around to the see the gates begin to open. There was no sound from the intercom, but he took it as a clear sign that his last words had reached someone inside. Now he was being invited in.

Not having his briefcase with him felt odd to Tayte. He missed it, although, as he hadn’t been allowed to copy any of the records he’d seen at the Munich
Standesamt
, it didn’t really matter that he didn’t have it with him now. Just the same, he still didn’t feel himself without it. The hand he usually carried it in felt awkward and somehow surplus to requirements, so he thrust it into his pocket and tried to forget about it. He hoped Johann Langner didn’t have cause to ask him to prove any of what he’d just spoken into the intercom, because all he had was the list of names he’d scribbled down, and he didn’t imagine that would carry much weight if it came to it.

But being right would
, Tayte thought, and he supposed he was only being invited into Langner’s home now because he was.

Partway along the drive, Tayte saw a man he recognised from his first day in Munich. It was Christoph, wearing the same grey suit he’d been wearing when he’d collected Tayte and Jean from the airport. He conveyed little warmth as they met, the limited familiarity between them seeming to curry no favour. Christoph’s only words were, ‘Please follow me,’ which Tayte duly did, thinking the man polite and efficient, if rather more conservative with his words than Tayte would have liked under the circumstances.

He was led through the mansion’s grand, marbled hallway, past a wide sweeping staircase and into a sunlit drawing room that looked out over what appeared to be a bowling green. Johann Langner was sitting in a wheelchair by one of the many windows, covered almost from head to foot in a barber’s gown. Behind him, Ingrid Keller was trimming his hair. She didn’t once look up from what she was doing, even to acknowledge Tayte’s presence.

‘Mr Tayte is here to see you, Herr Langner,’ Christoph said, and with a sharp bow of his head, he left the room.

‘Ah, Mr Tayte,’ Langner said. ‘Well, come and sit down. You must be weary. I know you’ve made a very long journey to get here, haven’t you?’

‘Yes, I suppose I have,’ Tayte said, thinking that Langner was referring to the journey Tayte had set out on to find his family all those years ago. ‘Thank you for seeing me again,’ he added as he sat down on the sofa, facing Langner. ‘How are you?’

‘Good of you to ask, Mr Tayte. I’m pleased to say that I’m much improved.’ He raised a hand towards the window, pointing. ‘Do you play lawn bowls?’

Tayte looked out at the green, and then back to Langner. ‘No, I can’t say I’ve ever tried it.’

‘I find it very therapeutic, and I’m sure the activity has helped to keep me going longer than I perhaps should have. Unfortunately, it’s not very popular in Germany. I saw the game being played in England some years ago and I took quite a liking to it.’ He laughed. ‘Ingrid here has been my fiercest opponent,’ he added, and Tayte didn’t doubt him.

Langner’s dry laughter trailed off. ‘So, your research here in Munich has led you to believe that I’m your paternal grandfather, and that I have a son called Karl, who you believe is your father?’

‘Yes,’ Tayte said, knowing he still couldn’t rule Volker Strobel out, and at the same time hoping that perhaps Langner could. He was more keen than ever now to hear about the terrible thing Langner had said his wartime friend had done. ‘At least, I believe Ava Bauer is my paternal grandmother,’ Tayte added. ‘I know my mother married someone called Karl, and I found a Karl in the records, adopted by Ava Bauer’s uncle—your wife’s uncle—Heinz Schröder. I’ve come here in the hope that I can clarify that, and to confirm whether you’re Karl Schröder’s biological father.’ Tayte paused and chewed his lip. ‘Or whether perhaps you know of someone else who is.’

‘Ah, you’re referring to Volker Strobel, of course?’

Tayte nodded. ‘You said previously that Strobel had done something terrible. Did it concern Ava? Why weren’t you with Ava after the war? And how come your own adopted son, Rudi, knows so little about her?’

‘So many questions,’ Langner said, dry laughter in his voice again.

Tayte thought it sounded forced, perhaps to make light of a darker memory that had stirred within him. A moment later, Langner coughed and fell silent, as if composing himself. Then he swallowed hard, and Tayte thought a lump must have risen in his throat.

‘I’m sorry to be so direct,’ Tayte said to break the silence.

‘That’s quite all right. There’s little point now in beating about the bush, as the saying goes. Rudi knows so little about Ava because until now I’ve chosen not to talk about her. As for the rest . . .’

Langner trailed off, and Tayte watched him lift his eyeglasses and wipe a tear from the corner of his one good eye. He reminded himself then to tread carefully. He didn’t want to upset Langner to the point where Keller would once again feel obliged to ask him to leave.

Langner sniffed back his emotions, straightening his posture as best he could. Around him, fine wisps of white hair continued to fall to the snip, snip of Keller’s scissors. ‘I think perhaps it would be best if I concluded the story I began to tell you and your friend when you first came to see me. Then I think you might have the answers you’re hoping to find.’

‘That would be great,’ Tayte said, beaming with enthusiasm.

Langner gave a slow nod. ‘Very well then,’ he began. He cleared his throat. ‘Towards the end of the war I lost contact with Ava, so when the opportunity presented itself I came back to Munich to look for her. Vienna had fallen. Germany’s once mighty military machine was beating a fast and final retreat to Berlin. The country was in chaos, but somehow through the smoke and the debris, I found my answers.’

Tayte saw Langner clench his fists then, as though angry at the memories that were fighting to free themselves from his obviously troubled mind.

‘You want to know what terrible thing Volker Strobel did?’ Langner continued. ‘I’ll tell you what that man did. Heaven knows I must tell someone, while I still can.’

Chapter Thirty-Eight

Munich. 26 April 1945.

At the boarded-up house of Ava’s parents in the borough of Sendling, Johann Langner continued to stare at the baby cradled among the blankets in Ava’s mother’s arms with disbelief. At last he fell to his knees, his face lined with anguish, his mind full of questions to which he sensed the answers would reveal a terrible truth.

‘Adelina! What happened? Where’s Ava?’

A tear fell onto Adelina’s cheek. She sat forward and held out the baby, ‘She is here, Johann.’ Her voice sounded laboured.

Johann shook his head. ‘Where is she, Adelina? You must tell me.’

Adelina looked down at the baby and then back to Johann. ‘Can’t you see her?’ She held the baby out again, this time into the light that shone in through the gaps in the boards at the windows. ‘Look. He has his mother’s eyes. Can you see her, Johann?’

Johann looked, and as his eyes met the child’s he was taken back to the very first time he saw Ava Bauer. His own eyes began to well with tears. ‘What are you telling me, Adelina?’ His voice wavered as he spoke. He already knew the answer. ‘Please, I need to hear you say it.’

Adelina turned away then, and Johann heard her sob.

‘Say it, Adelina!’ Johann’s tone was firm now. ‘I can’t believe it otherwise.’

Adelina turned back to him and he knelt closer. ‘Ava is dead, Johann. My daughter is dead.’

Johann held Adelina then as they both began to cry unreservedly. He could feel her frail body beneath the blankets she was wrapped in—feel her fragile bones shaking in his arms, the baby between them, silent and peacefully oblivious to the horrors of the world into which he had been born. When he felt he had no more tears left to cry, Johann withdrew, but he remained on his knees beside the armchair. He knew that if he tried to stand up at that moment he would only fall down again.

‘And your husband? Is Gerhard also—’

Johann didn’t need to finish his sentence. Adelina began to nod her head almost as soon as he began to ask. He let out a long sigh and wiped the tears from his cheeks.

‘Tell me what happened, Adelina.’

‘Don’t you want to meet your son first?’ Adelina said. She turned the baby to face Johann, and the baby’s tiny hands began to grab at the air between them.

‘My son?’

‘Of course.’

All these months and Johann had no idea. He thought back to the last time he had seen Ava. It was in May the previous year, when he had been granted home leave. He had received only one letter from her since then, which was soon after his return to the Front. He realised that whatever had happened to the Bauer family must have happened soon after the child’s conception, which by his calculations had to have been eleven months ago.