She knew the layout of these flats from the countless ones she’d been in – in Ha-Neu, the Hauptstadt and now Gorbitz. They were all near identical.

She didn’t need a light to guide her, but ahead – in the lounge – she could see there was one. A torch, being flashed around. The sounds of drawers opening, being rifled through.

Someone was looking for something. Something belonging to Lotti.

If this was a trail of crumbs laid by the Stasi, it had turned up trumps. But perhaps she had just struck lucky.

She entered the lounge and pointed the gun at the intruder with the flashlight.

‘People’s Police!’ she yelled. ‘Freeze! Hands above your head.’

At first the intruder seemed to obey, but then the torch moved towards her and shone directly into her face. She resisted the reflex to shield her eyes from the light.

‘Drop the torch, or I’ll—’

Müller didn’t get a chance to complete her warning.

First, she heard the thud of something heavy crashing onto bone, then a microsecond later blinding pain on the top and back of her skull.

She had time for one quick thought. This is what happened to our victim in Gorbitz.

Then she was falling.

Crumpling in terrible, awful pain. Pain like she’d never felt before.

Then all was black.

Chapter 12

12

ARNIE

Pearson Park, Hull

September 1939

We knew it was coming, of course. First the BBC news announcement that Germany had invaded Poland – that was on the Friday, I think. Then a couple of days later, on the Sunday morning, just after we’d got back from church, we all gather round the wireless, in our Sunday best. Mother and Father look really serious, although that’s nothing out of the ordinary. My new baby brother, Fred, starts bawling as Mr Chamberlain begins to speak in his boring clipped voice. I think Fred was a result of that German holiday – he’s an ugly bugger. Anyway, Father looks daggers at Mother, who goes out of the room to feed the baby, so it’s just me and Dad left listening.

Chamberlain is going on about a ‘final note’ given to the Germans demanding they withdraw their troops from Poland after their ‘wicked and unprovoked attack’. Of course, soon enough, the Prime Minister’s voice is drowned out because Father starts talking over him, saying he shouldn’t have been so weak-minded to start with.

‘He’s let Hitler get away with far too much for too long, Arnold. You realise that, don’t you?’