‘So,’ smiles the major, ‘let’s try to work co-operatively. We will make sure you get the best medical care possible for your condition. We will pay you an allowance while you are under treatment. In return, we are not asking for very much. We have some documents which will strengthen Dr Southwick’s research. Give him the incontrovertible proof he needs that his thesis is correct. Clearly, if those documents came directly from us, he would be suspicious. We will construct a story about how they come to be in your possession. Or it may be simply that you introduce him to someone who has the documents in his or her possession. That’s all we require from you. We and Dr Southwick want the same outcome – a positive outcome for his research is a positive outcome for the Republic, and a righting of some of the wrongs that happened on the thirteenth and fourteenth of February 1945.’

Put like that, what they’re asking me to do doesn’t seem so unreasonable. What happened that night – when I suffered the scars that will stay with me forever, physically and mentally – was something awful. Terrible. Whatever Hitler had done, whatever Germany as a nation had done, the German people, the people of Dresden, did not deserve that.

‘What about those photographs?’ I ask, glancing at the desk.

The colonel picks them up and theatrically tears them into little pieces. I’m not stupid. I know that means nothing and that the negatives will be stored in some safe somewhere. ‘These will never be seen again,’ he says. ‘You have our word. In return, we need your word that you will not reveal to Dr Southwick that he was under surveillance.’

I give a small nod. ‘What about . . .’ I feel my voice breaking, even though I try to swallow back the emotion. ‘What about my cancer? Will . . . will they be able to cure me?’

The colonel is stony-faced, but the major looks at me with what seems like genuine sadness. ‘Cancer is a terrible thing, Lotti. We’re not medical men, and we can’t make hollow promises to you. All we can say is that we are being genuine when we pledge you will get the best possible treatment. The sort normally reserved for party bigwigs and VIPs.’ I see the colonel shoot an angry glance towards his colleague, as though he might have overstepped the mark. ‘It still might not save you, you know that. But it will give you the best possible chance.’

Chapter 39

39

Schwebebahn viewing platform, Dresden

February 1982