*

She woke at midnight to light flooding in through the open door to her attic room. Two men she had never seen before stood there, standing either side of Frau Schlegel. One of the men was huge, the other small and bespectacled.

‘That’s her,’ the landlady said. ‘She owes me money.’

‘Send your bill to Prinz-Albrecht-Strasse,’ Kalt said dismissively. ‘Now leave us.’

‘What is she, then – a filthy Jew? I did my duty and informed the authorities that she was trying to hide out here. The least I deserve is the money I’m owed.’

Kalt hustled the woman away without bothering to answer and the two men stepped into the room. Romy was in her nightgown, sitting up against the pillows, fully awake now, clutching the thin blankets to her chest. Brunner grabbed her by the hair and dragged her from the bed. She hit the floor hard.

‘Get up!’ Kalt barked.

‘Who are you? What do you want? I’m not Jewish,’ she managed to say through teeth chattering with fear.

‘We know who you are and what you are. You are Romy Dietrich and you are a midwife. You are coming with us. Get dressed. Don’t bother to struggle or to argue. It will only make it more painful for you.’

*

At the bottom of the narrow staircase, they encountered Frau Schlegel again. Brunner was bundling Romy towards the door. Kalt gestured to the landlady to approach.

‘Tell me what you know of this woman.’

The woman’s shoulders stiffened proudly, like a soldier on parade.

‘I knew she was hiding from something, sir.’ She glared at Romy. ‘I was right, sir, wasn’t I? Is she a Jew?’

‘You spoke with her?’

‘Yes, sir. I wanted to discover the truth.’

‘And she gave her name as what?’

‘Frau Dietrich. Romy Dietrich.’

Leave no trace. Those were the Reichsleiter’s words. Maybe Frau Schlegel knew nothing about the girl – but what if Dietrich had let slip some information? Unlikely, perhaps, but still . . .

Kalt nodded to Brunner and shifted his grey eyes sideways to indicate the landlady. Brunner immediately released his grip on Romy and turned his attention to Frau Schlegel. He was twice her size and it was easy for him to grasp her neck in his powerful hands and snap it. Like a farmer despatching a chicken.

CHAPTER 4

At first Wilde didn’t understand what he was hearing. His confusion lasted all of five seconds, then he jumped out of bed. It was an air-raid siren.

The concierge had explained the procedure in great deal. Guests were to proceed without delay to the cellars, where they were to wait until the all-clear. Wilde had feigned bemusement.

‘Surely Berlin is not being bombed?’

He knew, of course, that it was, that there had been a British raid that very month. He had seen some minor damage on the way in to the city centre from Tempelhof.

‘It is nothing, sir,’ the concierge had assured him. ‘A token gesture by the British before they capitulate. Really, you have nothing to fear.’