She looked across at Tilsner. He shrugged, but had a resigned expression. As though he didn’t really believe the woman either, but might be prepared to swallow her story just to bring some closure to what had been a particularly frustrating case.

Chapter 38

38

LOTTI

Dresden

October 1981

The car picks me up at the bus stop – a black Lada.

I suppose I have a good idea who they are, even as they bundle me in despite my protests. Thankfully, there’s no one else waiting for the bus to see my shame.

They immediately pull a hood over my head, and tell me to lie down on the back seat, out of sight of other citizens. I try to ask them what’s going on, what I’ve done wrong – but they tell me to be quiet. From the motion of the car, and the noise of other traffic, I can guess they’re taking me from Pirna to Dresden itself. But they don’t tell me that. They won’t tell me anything – just order me to keep my mouth shut.

Eventually – after I suppose half an hour or so – there are a couple of sharp turns, I hear a metallic gate rolling open, and the car comes to a stop. I’m manhandled out of the car, but still can’t see anything as they keep the hood in place. From the change in acoustics, the harsh echoes, I realise I’ve been taken inside. Then the hood’s pulled off. Immediately, I have to shield my eyes from a harsh, penetrating light coming from very bright strip lights overhead. I’m in some sort of garage below a building.

Then I’m being taken down the corridors of what looks like a prison.

‘Why are you taking me to jail?’ I scream. ‘I haven’t done anything wrong.’

‘This isn’t a jail,’ the guard who’s holding me insists. ‘We just want to ask you a few questions.’

We go down various corridors, stopping until the control lights change colour, up at least one flight of stairs. I’m beginning to lose my bearings in this prison that my guard insists isn’t a prison.

Finally, we arrive at what appears to be our destination.

I’m bundled into the room and ordered to sit on a stool in the corner. It’s as though I’ve been a naughty child at school. The guard stays with me for the time being. The paintwork in here is the same as the corridors outside – an unappetising mix of cream and olive green. There’s no window as such – just patterned glass blocks, which allow in the natural light but mean you can’t see any detail of the outside. So although I believe I’m in Dresden, I could be wrong.