Steeling herself for the pain that would jackknife through her body, she said steadily, ‘I made no phone call. I know no names. I know nothing of any meeting.’

Her finger was wrenched violently upwards, against the joint.

Despite her fierce determination not to, she screamed, convulsed with pain. ‘One name will satisfy me, Fräulein Lennartz. Just one name and I will sign the order for your release. Who, among the men meeting at Grunewald, was your contact? Who did you telephone?’

She shook beads of sweat from out of her eyes. ‘I know nothing of any meeting at Grunewald.’ Her voice was so hoarse she scarcely recognized it. ‘I have no contacts. I made no telephone call.’

Her second finger was taken hold of. This time she knew what the agony was going to be like. This time she knew they wouldn’t stop until all her fingers were broken. And then what would they do?

As if reading her mind, her interrogator leaned forward into the light so that she could now see his face. ‘You’re being very foolish, Fräulein. Do you think any of the highranking men whose names you refuse to give would do the same for you? If you do, then you know nothing of what happens to men undergoing torture by electric current. They scream like animals and would incriminate their own mothers in order to have it stopped. Why suffer similarly when all you have to do to be able to walk out of here and go home, is to tell me the names of the men who met tonight in Grunewald.’

As he finished speaking he adjusted the arc light. For the first time the corners of the room were illuminated. There was a table similar to a massage table in one of the corners. A table fitted down either side with broad leather straps. Beneath it was a black box with wires coming from it.

This time no power on earth could have kept the fear from showing in her eyes.

‘Just one name.’ His voice sliced across her nerve ends. ‘Just give me one name and I’ll sign the order for your release. If not, when you have no more fingers left—‘ He lifted his shoulders expressively.

She was soaked in sweat and there was a terrific pounding of blood in her ears. ‘I don’t know any names,’ she said again, pain roaring through her veins. ‘I know nothing about any meeting. I made no telephone call.’

Her second finger was wrenched upwards and jerked backwards until the bone snapped.

She thought she was going to pass out. She wanted to pass out. She wanted to die so that it would be impossible for her to speak Max’s name.

‘Once again,’ the implacable voice said. ‘The name of the person you telephoned.’

Her hand hurt so much she wanted to vomit. ‘I made no telephone call,’ she said yet again. ‘I know no names. I know nothing about any meeting.’

By the time her third and little fingers had been broken her voice was a whisper, and when she wasn’t whispering that she knew no names, knew nothing about any meeting, she was retching.