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the safe. He had had to explore the panelling minutely, but finally he had found a piece of beading that moved under his touch. Not loosely, but as though it had been planed and machined that way.
    As he slid it to one side, the panel above rolled back, revealing a Milner’s eight-lever mortice safe, probably installed when the house was built at the turn of the century. It was cemented securely into the thick brick wall. Tygo knew he had his work cut out – these were superb safes and well above his skills as a lock-picker. It would have taken his father a good couple of hours to get this one open, he thought. Nevertheless, with Krügerstanding behind him, he had no choice but to try.
    â€˜Well? What are you waiting for?’
    â€˜It’s a tough safe, sir.’
    â€˜So? You’re my expert. Get cracking.’
    Tygo nodded and considered how best to start. Some Milners had all sorts of anti-tamper devices, such as relocking pins which operated just when you thought you had successfully picked the levers. He worked hard for a good half-hour as Krüger paced the room, smoking. But then his second hook pin snapped and he knew it was hopeless.
    â€˜I’m sorry, Oberst, I cannot continue.’
    â€˜I don’t know why I even bother with you,’ Krüger snapped. ‘Very well – we shall have to use a less subtle approach, and you had better hope that we do not damage the contents.’
    He marched out, returning a few minutes later with a small piece of green plasticine-like substance in his hand. ‘Plastic explosive, Nobel 808,’ he said in response to Tygo’s unasked question. ‘The British drop it for the Resistance. Very effective, so I am told.’
    Tygo watched as Krüger knelt down and rolled the explosive on the wooden floor like a piece of dough until he had fashioned a strip. He pressed this into the seam of the hinge side of the safe. Then he inserted a silver detonator rod into the soft explosive, to which he attached the exposed copper ends of some two-ply electrical wire. He picked up the roll of wire and began to spool it back towards the front door.
    â€˜Out!’
    Tygo followed him into the hallway and out through the front door. Krüger had a detonator box waiting by the side of the porch. He cut the wire and quickly attached the copper contacts to the box. Tygo could see he was deft at this sort of thing, and wondered briefly where he’d learnt the skills. Krüger had never spoken to him about what he had done before he came to Amsterdam.
    Krüger glanced up at Tygo. ‘Cover your ears and open your mouth.’
    Tygo did as he was told and Krüger dropped the plunger.
    As the explosive went off, Tygo felt a massive thud in his chest from the shock wave. The whole house seemed to shake, and the windows exploded outwards, tearing the wooden outdoor shutters from the walls.
    â€˜That should do the trick,’ remarked Krüger.
    The two of them walked back into the room. It was wreathed in smoke, and there was glass all over the floor which crunched underfoot. But the Nobel 808 had done its job. The heavy steel door had been blown clean off the front of the safe and was embedded in the wall opposite, still smoking.
    Tygo grinned despite himself at the sight of it. Krüger was already at the open safe, thrusting his hand inside, but Tygo could see quite plainly that the baize-covered shelves were empty.
    Krüger swore heavily, placed his hands on his hips and looked around the wrecked room.
    â€˜It’s got to be here. It’s got to be!’
    As he spoke, a heavy clump of soot dropped down thechimney and landed on the stone hearth. Krüger stared at it, and Tygo waited. He was clearly thinking something over.
    â€˜We haven’t looked up there, Frettchen,’ he said.
    â€˜But, sir, that was just the explosion, it’s shaken some of the soot free.’
    â€˜Maybe, maybe not. So get up there and find