‘Quick, Werner!’ she shouted, as she broke into a run, desperate to get to Southwick, fearing the worst.

She turned the cell door lock and rushed in. Southwick was swinging from a makeshift noose. His lips blue, eyes bulging, tongue trapped outside his mouth in his clenched-together jaws.

Müller rushed to the body and tried to lift it up. ‘Help me, Werner. Quickly!’

Tilsner dived into the cell after her and grabbed Southwick’s body, lifting him up as far as possible.

‘In my back pocket,’ he shouted. ‘There’s a penknife. Use that to cut the material.’

Müller pulled the stool over, climbed onto it, then opened the penknife and began to saw at the bedsheet. After a few seconds it ripped free.

Tilsner carried the man to the bed and then began mouth-to-mouth ventilation, timing a series of blows then resting, then starting again. In between, he urged Müller to push the alarm in the corridor to summon help.

Finally, Southwick began to take a few weak breaths on his own, but they were laboured, as though he was on the edge of death.

Müller knelt down and whispered into his ear. ‘What happened, Arnold?’

‘T . . . t . . . t . . . two . . . men.’ He barely got the words out.

‘Names?’ asked Müller.

The man just made a fractional shake of his head. Then he tried to speak again. ‘M . . . m . . . my . . . re . . . search. Please. You must.’

‘What do you mean, Arnold?’

‘H . . . h . . . hid . . . den.’

‘Where?’

‘G . . .’

‘I couldn’t hear that, Arnold.’

‘Gorb . . .’ Each word was dying in the man’s throat, as though he didn’t have enough breath left in his lungs. But he was desperate to get his message across.

Müller was aware help had now arrived behind her. Medics had taken over from Tilsner. They tried to put an oxygen mask on Southwick, but he pushed it away. He still obviously needed to get his message across.

‘ . . . itz . . . pub . . . found . . . ation . . .st . . . one . . . be . . . hind.’ The man slumped back. One of the medics began chest compressions. Then he began mouth-to-mouth again.

Müller realised Tilsner was talking in a low voice to another man who’d entered . . . Bahlow! What the fuck does he want? She beckoned Tilsner away. ‘We’ve got to get up to Gorbitz, quickly. There’s something there he wants us to find.’

Although she’d been speaking sotto voce, Bahlow had evidently overheard.

‘I can take you up there, Comrade Hauptmann. Given what’s just happened, there’s a few things I need to explain to you.’

Müller was about to decline the offer, but Tilsner thought otherwise. ‘I think he’s on our side,’ he whispered. ‘Let’s see what he has to say for himself.’