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don’t know, some new calculations! Really, I don’t know!’
    Kessler gave his companions a withering look. ‘Hold him down.’
    ‘What?’ The detective struggled to compute the request.
    ‘Hold him down! Open his shirt!’
    The detective glanced nervously at the trooper, then back at Kessler. ‘Commandant… I… ’
    ‘Get on with it!’
    The subordinates duly complied by heaving their victim onto the edge of the nearest pile of wood. They ripped open his shirt, and each held an arm down across a convenient length of timber with their heels. The dog jumped and snapped at the prisoner. The trooper only just held the dog short of its target.
    Kessler picked up a bucket of tar and a brush from the side of the barrel. Acrid smoke drifted from the vessel, heat radiated from the tar-encrusted metal bucket. He walked slowly towards the prisoner, making a theatrical show of dipping the brush into the volcanically hot liquid. He knelt on a log, being careful to keep his distance from the canine, and dangled the brush over Nico’s chest.
    The handler pulled the dog to heel.
    ‘Let me refresh your memory.’
    ‘No, please! I… No! Please!’
    Kessler dabbed the brush onto bare flesh.
    ‘Arghh! Arghhh!’
    The tar set quickly, cooking the underlying pectoral muscle. Kessler dipped the brush again, applying it to the other side of the Jew’s chest.
    ‘No! Arghhhh! Arghhhh!’ Nico bucked violently.
    ‘What is your Professor doing?’
    ‘I don’t know! Arghhh! Probably some calculations on fuels! His normal work!’
    Kessler shook his head and wiped the hot brush across his victim’s stomach.
    ‘Arghh! Arghh!’ Nico thrashed.
    Kessler waited for the pain to take full effect, then continued. ‘Now, last chance… what is so interesting about Professor Mayer’s work? Why is he so busy? Why is he meeting colleagues in the middle of the night?!’
    He dabbed the brush again.
    ‘Arghh! Arghh! I don’t know! Christ! I would tell you if I did! But I just don’t know!’ Nico sobbed.
    Kessler weighted up the response. It was a lot of pain, and most would have talked freely by now. Perhaps the young prodigy really didn’t know what his boss was up to? It seemed that way. But what should he do with the young scientist? It would be easy to dispatch him now.
    Kessler gave the brush a good coating in the boiling tar, and moved towards Nico’s face.
    ‘No! No, please! I’ll do anything… anything at all!’ Nico bucked, but was unable to break free. Kessler grabbed his chin, holding the brush firmly over his eye, he paused.
    On the other hand, this Jew might be useful in the short term, and he could always kill him later. How many men had he murdered? He could not remember – save the first one – his own father. The old man had it coming, and died fairly easily for a war hero. He could still feel his father’s blood-soaked iron cross turning over in his hand. It had been a pivotal moment: from that day he’d wanted an iron cross of his own.
    Kessler snapped back to reality as a drip of tar landed in Nico’s eye.
    ‘Arghhh! Arghhh! Please!’ Nico snorted snot and tears.
    Yes, he could live for now.
    Pleased with his morning’s work, Kessler headed back to the car. So, Mayer was working on something secret, skulking around the city after dark, and keeping things from his own staff. Interesting, very interesting – it was clearly time to pick up Professor Mayer – catching him in the act on one of his nocturnal strolls.

CHAPTER 5
Brown Shirts
    E instein reflected quietly on his friend’s work as he added his final comments to the margins. It was magnificent, a work of pure genius. The pencil notes were just finishing touches. It was a groundbreaking piece of science; but it was also dangerous, very dangerous.
    Einstein looked up from his desk and smiled. ‘Well, well, well, Gustav… your mathematical proof is beyond compare. You should publish it of course.’
    Mayer stopped pacing up and down the study and