The green Minerva was parked off the road on the edge of a farm field. The rear fender was dented, scratches ran along the side, and the taillight was broken. It matched the description provided by Aaron Peeters, the elderly diamond exchange employee, with one important addition: the rear was riddled with bullet holes.
The German staff car pulled up behind it and Ziegler and Bayer got out. They walked around the car, trying to open the doors. They were locked.
“Should I break the window, sir?” Bayer asked.
Ziegler nodded. “We have no choice.”
Bayer smashed the rear passenger window, unlocked the door, and looked through the car, including the boot. He was meticulous, combing underneath the seats, removing the spare tire from the well. After ten minutes, he finished.
“Nothing, sir.”
“
