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The door opened and, as he turned, Claire de Beauville, Madame Chevalier and Earl Jackson entered the room. Strasser smiled at the American. 'We missed you for supper.'

'Sorry I couldn't stay.'

Strasser turned to Canning. 'An explanation of one or two things which were puzzling me. I was beginning to think you were a wonder-worker. It's nice to know you're just a man, like the rest of us.'

'Okay,' Canning said. 'I've had just about enough for one night. You wanted a word with the ladies - well, they're here, so make the most of it.'

'I can't imagine what you could possibly have to say to me that I would be interested in hearing, Monsieur,' Madame Chevalier said. 'Thankfully, I can use the time to some advantage.'

She sat down at the piano and started to play a Debussy nocturne. Strasser, not in the least put out, said, 'I have offered you ladies your freedom, guaranteed it, on condition that the General and Colonel Birr come quietly and with no fuss.'

Madame Chevalier ignored him and Claire simply walked across to the bowl of roses and buried her face in them.

Strasser said, 'I should have known. Above all flowers, they need delicate hands and infinite patience in their rearing. Your work, Madame?'

'Yes,' she said. 'So, as you can see, I am fully occupied and cannot leave at the present time.'

Canning moved in. 'You heard the lady.'

Strasser selected one of the blooms, snapped the stem and placed it in his buttonhole. 'Ah, well, it was worth the trip. You like winter roses, General?'

'Whatever it is, if Madame de Beauville cultivated it, I like.'

'Good,' Strasser said. 'I'll remember that at your funeral. One gets so bored with lilies. A single scarlet winter rose should look very well. And now, I think, I will bid you goodnight. There is obviously nothing more for me here.'

He walked to the door. Hoover glanced at Canning, who nodded. The sergeant led the way out.

There was a heavy silence and Madame Chevalier stopped playing. 'I must be getting old. Suddenly I feel cold - very, very cold.'

Strasser stepped through the judas, followed by Hoffer. As Ritter moved out Howard said softly, 'I'll be seeing you.'

'When?' Ritter said. 'Under the elms at dawn? Six paces each way, turn and fire? You take it all too seriously, Captain.'

He followed the others across. As they stepped on to the bank, the drawbridge lifted behind them.

'Are you satisfied?' Ritter asked Strasser softly.

'Oh, yes, I think so. Jackson should be well enough entrenched now. The rest is up to him.'

He started to whistle cheerfully.

It was just after midnight, and in Berlin at his office in the bunker Bormann worked steadily, the scratching of his pen the only sound, the noise of the Russian shelling muted far away. There was a light tap on the door. It opened and Goebbels entered. He looked pale and haggard, the skin drawn tightly over his face. A dead man walking.

Bormann put down his pen. 'How goes it?'

'Goebbels passed a flimsy across the desk. That's the radiogram I've just dispatched to Plon.'

GRAND ADMIRAL DoNITZ (Personal and Secret)

To be handled only by an officer.

Fuhrer died yesterday, 1530 hours. In his will dated 29 April he appoints you as President of the Reich, Goebbels as Reich Chancellor, Bormann as party minister...

There was more, but Bormann didn't bother to read it. 'Paper, Josef. Just so much paper.

'Perhaps,' Goebbels said. 'But we must preserve the formalities, even at this desperate stage.'

'Why?'

'For posterity, if nothing else. For those who will come after us.'

'Nobody comes after us. Not here -not in Germany for many years to come. Our destiny lies elsewhere for the time being.'

'For you, perhaps, but not for me,' Goebbels said, his voice flat, toneless.

'I see,' Bormann said. 'You intend to emulate the Fuhrer?'

'No shame in ending a life which will have no further value to me if I cannot stand at his side. I have no intention of spending the rest of my life running round the world like some