“Frau Aufseherin, I’m told you keep a close eye on Prisoner 16671. Do you recall detecting any suspicious behavior?”

“No, Herr Sturmbannführer, but I know where she was on the seventh of October. The clumsy bitch spilled coffee all over my uniform that morning, so I supervised while she cleaned it. And it took far longer than it should have since she’s too incompetent to shine a damn button properly,” Irena said with a condescending laugh as she exhaled cigarette smoke. “By the time I escorted her back to the kitchen, the camp was in an uproar.”

After Hania translated the response, I seized her skirt and pulled her close with such force that she staggered. “The coffee was an accident! Tell Aufseherin Lichtenberg it was an accident, please—”

“Shut up!” Irena shouted, so I released Hania and flinched in anticipation of a blow. She tossed her cigarette butt on the floor and stepped on it, then held up a hand to interrupt Hania’s translation of my plea. “Don’t bother, Jew. I don’t give a shit.”

While we’d been talking, Ebner had moved to the back of the room, where the torture instruments were displayed in a case. He’d been calm, likely putting me at ease so I’d be even more startled when he flew into a sudden rage. It was about to happen. I could feel it.

When Ebner returned to stand across from me, he held a whip in one hand and a club in the other. He placed both on the table. One reminded me of my last Gestapo interrogation, the other of my flogging, but I wasn’t afraid of either, because I remembered this stage of his interrogations. He wasn’t going to torture me, because I was already cooperating. He just wanted to terrorize me.

We’d reached the most critical moment of our game. We’d made our opening moves and had established control of the board, strategizing and planning. Now we attacked.

I inserted a level of heightened urgency into my voice. “You said I had nothing to fear if I cooperated.”

“Which is why you’ll continue,” Ebner replied, studying his options.

From her position behind him, Irena made eye contact with me, as though unsure how to proceed, but I hoped the look in my eyes urged her to stay in her role, as she’d promised. Meanwhile, Hania struggled to force her translations out.

“Frau Aufseherin, which do you suggest?”

Upon Ebner’s prompting, Irena selected the club. Hania appeared too stunned to translate, but it didn’t matter because I grabbed her arm. Even though I was pretending to seek protection, I gave her a small squeeze, urging her not to lose faith. She grabbed my forearm in response, and I could feel her pulse pounding, but she returned the gesture.

Ebner lifted the club toward me. “Unhand her at once.”