I recoiled while Hania backed away and Ebner came to my side. Since I didn’t have a braid for him to grab this time, his rough hand closed around the nape of my neck while the club lifted my chin.

“You’re certain you knew nothing of the smuggled gunpowder?” he asked, tightening his grip while I gasped. “Why don’t I leave you with Aufseherin Lichtenberg while you consider your answer?”

When he referred to Irena, I tensed, then he released me and passed the club to her. Before Hania had finished translating, I started begging, and I suspected Ebner didn’t need a translation to believe his plan was working.

Lips curled into a wicked smile, Irena toyed with the club. “Did you hear that, Polack? Just us.”

I fell into abrupt silence while Ebner looked between me and Irena, waiting to see what we would do next. My shallow breaths were the loudest sound in the room, and I met Irena’s gaze.

Your move, Frieda.

In a sudden explosion of motion, Irena slammed the club down on the table and lunged for me, and I released the most petrified scream I could muster and fled toward the locked door. With shrieks rivaling Mandel’s, she caught me and forced me into the chair. Keeping me immobile, she hit the table again. Even as I let out another cry, I sensed the hope and urgency and desperation between us and Hania, whose back was pressed against the wall, panicking as much as her part required—though some of it seemed authentic, too.

Before entering my interrogation, we’d detoured to the women’s washroom. I’d bent over the filthy sink and gulped mouthfuls of water, enough to take my terrified prisoner role as far as necessary. It was time to enact the next phase.

Amid Irena’s threatening bellows, I cowered and pleaded and sobbed and released the tight hold on my bladder. The pungent smell of urine filled the small space while the warm wetness seeped into my uniform, puddled in my chair, and trickled onto the floor. Irena’s jeers and threats were lost amid my continuous blubbering, and I buried my head with a final despairing cry.

“I told the truth, I swear I told the truth! Please don’t leave me alone with her.”

Aside from my weeping and Hania’s trembling voice finishing interpretations, everyone fell silent. Ebner must have been pleased. And so was I. I heard him striking a match, then the smell of smoke reached my nostrils.

“Prisoner 16671, is there anything else you need to tell me?”

“I told you everything, Herr Sturmbannführer, I promise. Please get her away from me,” I whispered, drawing farther from Irena.

Ebner allowed the tension to linger, and my panicked sniffles filled the room, as loud as the thoughts racing across my mind. So close, we’re so close . . .