‘He doesn’t know the war has ended.’

Heck put his pistol to the man’s head, but he didn’t back off. ‘Now tell me, one of you, what happened to the Rabinowitz family?’

‘If I knew I would tell you,’ the woman said.

‘What is your name, lady?’

‘Ganzen.’

‘First name.’

‘Ursula. Ursula Ganzen.’

‘So, Frau Ganzen, where did the former occupiers of this apartment go?’

She closed her eyes and took a deep breath.

‘Yes?’

‘I believe they were told to report for deportation.’

‘The date?’

‘February 1942, I believe.’

‘You keep saying believe, but in fact you know, because you were completely involved in it. It was in February 1942, because you wanted to move in then. I suppose you viewed the apartment before they had even left. Your husband was a senior SS officer at the Lichterfelde garrison. Such a man must have had his pick of Jewish apartments.’

The old man’s arm was still held out stiffly, but his knees seemed to be giving way. Frau Ganzen’s eyes were fixed on her feet but Heck could see no trace of shame or remorse in her features.

‘Where were they taken?’

‘I am not sure,’ she said.

Heck lashed out at the old man, the sharp edge of the gun cracking the side of his head, knocking him back on to the bed.

‘Please, don’t hurt him.’

‘Where?’

‘Theresienstadt maybe, or Warsaw or Litzmannstadt. I really don’t know. I didn’t ask but I believe – know – that many Jews were relocated to those places. They were to be given new homes and work. Yes, I felt sorry for them, but everyone was doing it. They were going to be deported to a wonderful new life, and if we hadn’t taken the apartment, then someone else would have.’

‘Who was here when you visited?’

‘The mother, the father, the sons.’

‘And the daughter?’

‘I didn’t see the girl but I know there was one here because I saw some of her things. Maybe she was at school . . .’

‘A Jew at a German school in 1942, Frau Ganzen? I don’t think so, do you? She was eighteen or nineteen then.’

‘Perhaps she was queuing for food or visiting friends. I beg you, sir, I don’t know these things and I can’t answer your questions. I know it’s over, I know we lost and I am ashamed of my father for wearing his SA uniform and swastika, but he won’t listen to me.’

Heck wanted very badly to shoot her. His hands were steady but his mouth was trembling. He took out the the picture of Miriam and showed it to the woman. ‘This is for her, for Miriam Rabinowitz and her kind, generous family,’ he said.

Then he put a bullet in the old man’s head.

Ursula Ganzen emitted a low scream and fell to her knees.