“And LaCosta?”

“He cracked up after that affair in Cuba. I’ve put him into the home for six months.” The Chief sighed. “I had a psychiatrist’s report this morning. Frankly, it wasn’t too good. I’m afraid we won’t be able to use LaCosta again.”

Chavasse moved across to his chair and slumped down into it. He helped himself to a cigarette from the box the Chief held out to him and lit it with a steady hand. After a while, he smiled. “All right, I give in. You’d better put me in the picture.”

The Chief got to his feet. “I knew you’d see it my way, Paul. And don’t worry. You’ll get that holiday. This affair shouldn’t take you more than a couple of weeks at the most.”

“Where am I going?” Chavasse said simply.

“ West Germany!” The Chief walked to the window and spoke without turning round. “What do you know about Martin Bormann?”

Chavasse frowned. “One of the top Nazis, probably killed in the final holocaust in Berlin when the Russians moved in. Wasn’t he in the bunker with Hitler till the very end?”

The Chief turned and nodded. “We know that for certain. He was last reported trying to break out of the city in a tank. What actually happened, we don’t know, but certainly his body was never identified.”

Chavasse shrugged. “That’s hardly surprising. A lot of people died when the Russians moved in.”

The Chief moved back to the desk and sat down. “From time to time, there have been vague rumors about Bormann. One of them said that he was living in the Argentine, another that he was farming in Ireland. We checked these stories very carefully, but they proved to have no foundation in fact.”

Chavasse straightened slowly. “And now you’ve had another report? Something a little more substantial this time?”

The Chief nodded. “Do you know Sir George Harvey?”

Chavasse frowned slightly. “Wasn’t he Minister of Intelligence for a time in the coalition government during the war?”