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A few minutes passed, and with every second Johann felt his pulse quicken. The supply truck turned one corner and another, and he tried to glimpse where it was taking him, but although he had been to the camp before, he was not well acquainted with its layout, especially in the fading light. When at last the truck came to a stop, he waited, breathing slowly to calm himself. He was outside an open-fronted, single-storey building, and seeing an assortment of military vehicles parked inside, he realised the truck had pulled up outside a garage block. He kept his head down as he heard the truck’s doors open. Then the loading ramp at the back was dropped with a slam that jarred his nerves.

He heard talking, and within a minute the footfalls of several men could be heard as they began to unload the vehicle. Johann realised then that he had to climb down before they finished or he would find himself heading out of the camp again, and if that happened, there was no doubt in his mind that he would be caught. He crawled closer to the front of the truck’s roof, away from the activity, and peered out over the bonnet, wondering where to head for once he’d climbed down. He thought his best cover was among the parked vehicles inside the garage block, but then he heard a clanking sound ahead and to his left—metal tinkling on concrete, as if someone had just dropped a wrench. He thought a mechanic must be working on one of the vehicles further along, and he reminded himself to be cautious.

A moment later, the conversation at the back of the truck became suddenly lively, and it seemed to Johann that someone was telling a joke because the men were soon laughing riotously. Johann used the din to mask any sound he made as he swung his legs out over the edge of the roof and lowered himself onto the bonnet. He looked around to make sure the way was still clear, and then he walked ahead at a regular pace, using the truck for cover as he had before, staying in the blind spot of the men unloading it. When he had taken ten paces unchallenged, he ducked into the garages, dropped to the floor and rolled beneath the nearest vehicle, where he planned to wait until the supply truck had gone and the fading sky had turned to black.

Close to an hour passed before Johann ventured out from the vehicle he was hiding beneath. With no moon or stars visible in the overcast sky, only the dim camp lights lit his way as he headed back out from the garage block in the direction the supply truck had brought him in. He kept to the shadows as best he could, which were thankfully plentiful. The complex was busier than he had hoped it would be, but everyone he saw or heard seemed so heavily wrapped up in their duties that he managed to make good progress. He sensed the heightened activity was in no small part related to the news that must surely have reached the camp commandant that the Allies were at Munich’s doorstep.

The darkness that now helped to conceal Johann, however, also hindered his ability to recognise the buildings he had seen on his last visit. Because of this it took him a while to get his bearings. Having left the garage block, which was a small complex of buildings in itself, he crossed the road he had come in by to the trees opposite. Looking back he could see the buildings at the end of the SS troop barracks Volker had previously shown him. Volker’s accommodation then was back towards the administration buildings, across the courtyard by the main gate and past the bakery. The thought of crossing such an open space, which was well lit, did not encourage Johann, but there were few options left open to him.

He kept to the shadows for as long as he could, and when he came to the courtyard, he watched and waited for what he considered to be his best opportunity. Guards came and went, as did several vehicles and SS officers, and seeing those officers come and go with such ease made Johann think he would have to appear as one of them. After all, he was an SS officer himself, and he was in uniform. He just had to hope no one came close enough to see its condition, or to notice the regiment he served with. When the way was clear, he stuck his shoulders back and set out, telling himself to act as if he was supposed to be there. He reached halfway without challenge, but his resolve began to crumble when two guards turned the corner beside the bakery. They were heading straight for him.

Johann wanted to look away and change direction so as to avoid them, but he knew that to do so would only arouse their suspicion, so he kept going, and the guards drew closer. They seemed to straighten their postures as Johann approached. Would they notice the state of his uniform or that he was a member of the
Leibstandarte
? Would it matter to them if they did? Johann’s heart began to thump as he asked himself these questions, and then they were upon him, no more than a few feet away. Both men saluted.

‘
Guten Abend
,
Obersturmführer
,’ one of the guards said, leaving Johann in no doubt that they had at least noticed his rank insignia.

‘
Abend
,’ Johann replied, his eyes fixed on the other side of the courtyard as they passed one another.

Johann kept going, but he was soon forced to stop.

‘
Obersturmführer
?’

He turned back. The guard who had wished him a good evening approached.

‘Please excuse my impertinence,
Obersturmführer
, but you have come from the Eastern Front?’

Johann nodded. Clearly the guard had indeed noticed the state of his uniform as well as his rank, but there was something about the guard’s tone that put Johann at ease.

‘I have a young brother,’ the guard continued. ‘He served alongside the
Leibstandarte
in the 12th SS Panzer Division
Hitlerjugend
. I’ve not heard from him in six months and was wondering whether you have any news from the Front? We receive so little information.’

Johann thought the guard sounded desperate to hear whether there was even the slightest chance that his brother might still be alive. He wished he could give the man hope, but how could he know? He shook his head. ‘I’m sorry. I’ve come from Vienna. If your brother was there, you should pray for him.’

‘
Jawohl
,
Obersturmführer
. I do, every day.’

With that the guard clicked his heels and saluted again, and both men continued on their patrol, leaving Johann to finish crossing the courtyard, now with a degree of reassurance that his presence at the camp had not so far raised suspicion. All the same, as he neared the first of the SS residential houses he was heading for, he thought he’d better not take any chances, so when he was sure no one could see him, he slipped back into the shadows of the trees that he’d noticed some of the houses backed on to. He recalled that on his previous visit, Volker had taken him through a gate to show him the SS officer housing. There had been guards at the gate then, and Johann supposed there would be now. He also thought they would be far more inquisitive than the two guards he had just met if he attempted to walk nonchalantly past them.

Johann soon came to a brick wall that was about eight feet high, which he imagined ran along the line of houses he was trying to reach. Assessing the situation, he saw that there was no barbed wire running along the wall, and he thought it would be easy enough to climb. He wondered then whether this wall was regularly patrolled by the guards. He suspected it was to some degree, but high security had clearly not been deemed necessary here, because again, he doubted those in charge of camp security expected anyone would wish to break in to the residential area beyond.

Johann looked along the wall and listened for signs of activity. He found none. The further along he went, the more dense the trees became until it was difficult to see anything at all in the darkness. He knew that Volker’s residence was at the end of the line of houses he was moving perpendicular to, and as he followed the wall, using his fingertips to guide him, it occurred to him that the higher up the chain of command you were the further you lived from the sounds and smells of the concentration camp.

When the wall turned to his left, he thought he must have gone far enough, so he stopped and listened for activity again. Once he was sure there was no one around, he leapt at the wall and pulled himself up. He didn’t dare linger for a moment. He swung his legs over and dropped to the other side where he landed with a thump. A quick appraisal of his surroundings told him he was in a well-tended garden, partially screened from the house by several shrubs of one kind or another.

Johann remained still for several seconds in case anyone had heard him enter the garden and was drawn to the sound. Then he looked out from the shrubs and saw that he had hit his mark. To his left he saw the row of houses, some with lights at their windows, others in darkness. They were a mixture of what appeared to be semi-detached family homes between small terraces that accommodated perhaps five or six SS officers each. He could see no more houses to his right, telling him that this was the last house on the appropriately named
Strasse
der
SS
, which fronted the buildings. The house before him, a small detached building no more than twenty yards away, was Volker’s accommodation.

Johann thought there were sure to be guards in the street beyond, and perhaps even at the residence itself. He imagined that Volker, as the main camp’s
Lagerführer,
might even have a small staff. There was a dim light at one of the windows on the ground floor. He couldn’t know who was there for sure, but the light told him the house was not empty. Taking no chances he crawled through the garden on his belly, as if he were back at the
Ostfront,
until he reached the house, wondering now how he was going to get inside undetected.

He stood up with his back pressed against the wall. He was no expert at housebreaking, but he had to find a way to get inside now he was there. He stepped away and checked the windows. All appeared to be closed on both levels. There was a drainpipe that ran close to one of the upper windows, and it crossed his mind to try to climb it and break the window to gain entry, but he quickly decided that even if he made it to the window without falling, the sound of the breaking glass was sure to draw attention. This was a particularly quiet area. There was no sound here to mask his activity.

A path ran alongside the house. It was poorly lit by a pale and distant street lamp on the other side of
Strasse der SS
. Keeping low, Johann went around to the front of the house, his eyes peeled for the slightest sign of activity. There were lawns at the front of the houses and a few more shrubs here and there, which Johann used for cover as he left the pathway. From there he had a good view of the street. He peered along it and quickly ducked back again as he saw the flare of a cigarette lighter not thirty yards away. It illuminated the faces of two guards as they leaned in and lit their cigarettes. They were on the same side of the street as Johann, heading towards him, and at seeing them Johann was glad he hadn’t tried to break into Volker’s accommodation by smashing a window. If he had then the guards would have been on him in an instant.

He sank into the shrubbery as low as he could, and he kept still as they approached. Out of the corner of his eye he watched them amble past, and his eyes continued to follow them until they were lost to distance and darkness. They would return again, that much was certain, and Johann had no idea how long he had before they did. Wasting no time, he crawled out from his cover just enough to see the house more fully, hoping to find an open window, but there were none. The house appeared to be locked up tight. The light inside the house drew his attention and he crept up to the illuminated window, thinking to peer inside, but as he did so, the light went out.

Johann hurried back to the side of the house, and a moment later he heard the front door open and close again. Someone was leaving. He wondered whether it was Volker, but he soon saw that it was not. It was a woman, and at first Johann thought it must be Trudi Scheffler, to whom Volker had been married now for the past three years. But unless Trudi had put on considerable weight in that time, it was not her. He watched the woman button her coat as she set off at a stomping march down the street, and he supposed she must be a housekeeper or a cook. Perhaps she had prepared Volker’s evening meal for when he returned. Johann couldn’t know and it didn’t matter. What did matter was that the house now appeared to be empty.

Voices from the direction the two guards had set off in suddenly drew Johann’s attention. The guards were already returning on their patrol. Johann moved further back into the deeper shadows along the pathway at the side of the house until they passed, wondering again how he was going to get inside. He could see no quiet way to do it. Then it occurred to him that he would have to wait in the shrubbery for Volker to return.

Johann watched the guards come and go so many times that he soon learned their timing: three minutes beyond the house and back, twelve minutes in the direction the woman had gone. He had soon lost count of how many times they passed him and it was now quite late. He checked his watch. It was almost midnight. Then a short while later he heard a sound that was different from those he had grown accustomed to as he lay in wait for Volker to show. Someone else was approaching. His or her footsteps sounded markedly different from the guards’ plodding footfalls. These steps had urgency—authority.