ABSTRACT
Croydon airport, Tuesday 20 December 1938. A thin young man steps down onto the tarmac. It is hard to imagine his feelings. On the one hand, he is alive and he is free. But he buried his father two days ago. This morning, as he and his uncle waited at the airport in Vienna, his uncle was arrested and taken away. He himself was allowed to proceed to the departure gate, but as he went through passport control the officer stopped him: ‘Keller, Keller. …. I know that name and I know that picture; there is something wrong with you.’ He was taken to a side room and searched, knowing all the time that if the man remembered his instructions it would be the end. He has been running for his life for weeks now, able to be at home with his dying father only intermittently because of the warrant out for his arrest – indeed he has already been imprisoned once, beaten repeatedly, lined up ready for execution.
