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and beat a retreat.
    He stood in the Breestraat and wondered what to do. A blue tram rattled past. It was past two o’clock and he was hungry. He spotted a café-restaurant, and crossed the street to examine the menu in the window, dodging bicycles whizzing past.
    ‘Don’t look at me,’ said a voice in German next to him. A very familiar voice. ‘The Diefsteeg, back towards the station. Ten minutes.’
    Conrad managed to suppress a smile, but showed no sign that he had heard anything. After a minute or so, he moved on to another café to inspect its menu. Then he strolled back along the Breestraat the way he had come.
    The Diefsteeg turned out to be a quiet narrow lane, paved with red brick and squeezed between blind sides of houses on one side and courtyard walls on the other. Conrad walked slowly down the alley. He saw a tall familiar figure ahead, sauntering towards him. Before Conrad reached him, the figure ducked into a little café. Conrad examined the sparse menu in the window for a moment and then followed him in.
    Theo was sitting at a table, back to the window, facing the door. He grinned when he saw Conrad. His dark hair had receded a little in the year since Conrad had last seen him, but the duelling scar along his jawline was still visible. And his smile was as charming as ever.
    ‘Professor Madvig, I presume,’ Theo said in English. ‘Or am I Professor Madvig?’
    ‘Sorry about that,’ said Conrad, taking a seat opposite him. ‘I think technically we are both supposed to be meeting Professor Madvig, whoever the hell he is. It was the best I could think of in the time.’
    ‘It worked,’ said Theo. ‘Fortunately I was in Holland anyway, so I could get here today. By the way, I think it’s better we speak English than German. Fewer Dutch people understand it, and it’s a little less suspicious.’
    ‘I’m glad you got the message. I was worried when you didn’t respond to the letter I sent you a few weeks ago. Did you receive it?’
    ‘I did get it,’ said Theo. ‘I thought about replying, but I didn’t know what to say. Because I didn’t know what to think.’
    ‘About the war?’ Conrad asked.
    ‘About the war. About you. About me.’
    The barman approached, and they ordered pea soup and beer.
    ‘I know what I think,’ said Conrad. ‘Hitler must be stopped. That’s why I joined the army: to stop him.’
    ‘It’s easier for you than me,’ said Theo.
    ‘But you do still think Hitler must be stopped, don’t you?’ asked Conrad. It was an important question. If Theo had changed his mind about that, then Conrad should halt the conversation right there and then.
    ‘Oh, yes,’ said Theo. ‘But I don’t want to undermine my country in a war. Unlike you, for me those two things clash.’
    ‘Yes, of course,’ said Conrad. He had visited Theo’s family seat in the heart of Prussian Pomerania. Theo’s father had been a general, as had his father before him. Patriotism, duty, the obligation to fight for one’s country: all these were bred deep into Theo’s bones, despite the socialist ideals he had professed at Oxford in the early 1930s.
    ‘You’re still in the Abwehr?’ Conrad asked.
    Theo smiled. ‘You know I shouldn’t really answer that question.’
    That was good enough for Conrad.
    The soup came and they began eating. ‘I have dropped everything to come here,’ Theo said. ‘And I’m curious why. What’s an infantry officer doing in Holland? Shouldn’t you be in France?’
    Conrad scanned the café. There was one other customer, an old man reading a newspaper and drinking a small glass of beer. He looked very Dutch. He was also out of earshot, as was the barman.
    ‘Do you know a Captain Schämmel? Of the OKW Transport Division?’
    ‘I’ve never heard of him,’ said Theo. ‘Should I have?’
    Conrad hesitated. Could he trust Theo? Of course he could. Theo knew the names of most of the people who had been involved in the previous year’s conspiracy. One more