“The Windsor Protocol,” Hitler said simply.

“Can this be true?” Bormann asked in astonishment.

“Himmler himself vouched for it. He had the Duke approached by his agents in Portugal at the time.”

Or said that he had, Bormann told himself. That devious little animal had always been capable of anything. He replaced the document in its envelope and handed it to the Führer, who replaced it and the other items in the briefcase. “This is standard issue to the U-boat captains at the moment. Completely self-sealing, water- and fireproof.” The Führer pushed it across to Bormann. “Yours now.” He gazed in space for a moment in reverie. “What a swine Himmler is to try and make a separate peace with the Allies, and now I hear that Mussolini and his girlfriend were murdered by partisans in northern Italy, strung up by their ankles.”

“A mad world.” Bormann waited for a moment, then said, “One point, my Führer, how do I leave? We are now surrounded here.”

Hitler came back to life. “Quite simple. You will fly out using the East-West Avenue. As you know, Field Marshal Ritter von Greim and Hannah Reitsch got away in an Arado just after midnight yesterday. I spoke personally to the Commander of the Luftwaffe Base at Rechlin.” He glanced at a paper on his desk. “A young man, a Captain Neumann, volunteered to fly in a Feiseler Storch during the night. He arrived safely and is now waiting your orders.”

“But where, my Führer?” Bormann asked.

“In that huge garage at Goebbels’ house near the Brandenburg Gate. From there he will fly you to Rechlin and refuel for the onward flight to Bergen in Norway.”

“ Bergen?” Bormann asked.

“From where you will proceed by submarine to South America, Venezuela to be precise. You’ll be expected. One stop on the way. You’ll be expected there too, but all the details are in here.” He handed him an envelope. “You’ll also find my personal signed authorization in there giving you full powers in my name and several false passports.”