The Sturmbannführer nodded to another man, who snatched the basket. My plan wasn’t working. I needed to figure out what I was doing wrong, and I needed to reclaim my possessions, but I was at a loss. All I could think about was the warrant badge.

The man shuffled through the basket. “Nothing, Sturmbannführer Ebner.”

I kept my eyes lowered so he wouldn’t see my relief, but I was aware of him extending the basket toward me. Before he could return it, Ebner ripped it from his clutches, and I bit back a cry of protest.

“Name,” Ebner said as he began a painstakingly thorough search.

“H-Helena.” I paused, hoping it would banish the quaver from my voice. No one had ever interrogated me over the contents of my false papers. I’d memorized the information, of course, but it was difficult to recall any of it when my heart wouldn’t stop thumping against my chest. “Helena Pilarczyk.”

This time when Ebner looked at me, I forced myself to look back, and I saw what I was afraid I’d see.

Suspicion.

No, it was in my head, just in my head. He wasn’t suspicious; his thoroughness and the warrant badge had unnerved me, that’s all. Irena and I had gotten past soldiers countless times, and I’d done it alone, too. If I could do it before, I could do it now.

“Date of birth.”

The longer I stayed, the more questions he’d ask, and the more he’d go through my belongings. I had to answer quickly. I had to think of a way to make them leave or convince them to let me go.

Don’t panic, think. Study him. Ignore the guns pointed at you. Think.

“Date of birth.”

The impatient snap made me realize I hadn’t said a word, so I mumbled the falsified date and tried to develop an escape plan, but the thoughts didn’t come. Nothing came, nothing but an overwhelming urgency that plagued my insides but didn’t prompt me to action, not when Ebner dropped the basket and stomped on it, not when the weave splintered while pieces of potato oozed around his boot, not until he kicked the broken basket apart and the baptismal certificates scattered across the cobblestones.

Run.

It was foolish, it was desperate, it was all I could do. I put on a burst of speed, but I didn’t make it three steps before an SS man raised his rifle butt. A heavy, blinding pain drove the air from my lungs and threw me to the ground. I coughed and gasped until an ironlike grip pulled me to my feet. Ebner was yelling, but I was too distracted by my pulsating gut to listen, so he grabbed my face and twisted it toward the handful of blank documents.

“Answer me, you stupid girl. Where did you get these, and where are you taking them?”