They both knew they hadn’t locked the back door to the cottage behind them. What Müller feared was that the visitor to the Rolf’s annexe might also decide to use the rear exit – and catch them by surprise. But by the time they reached the door, there was no sign of him. There were – however – banging noises coming from inside, consistent with someone opening and shutting drawers and cupboards, looking for something.

Tilsner got his Makarov from his shoulder holster with his right hand and gingerly pushed the door open with his left, then switched to pushing it with his foot as he released the gun’s safety catch. Müller did the same with her pistol, looking over his shoulder.

If he had been in the kitchen area, the man had now moved.

They heard noises from the mezzanine level.

Tilsner beckoned Müller with the Makarov.

As slowly as possible, to try to avoid making the boards creak, they climbed the stairs. They could see the man now, crouched down, his back to them, rifling through a chest of drawers. Looking for something – apparently not, as Tilsner and Müller were, trying to track down Lotti herself.

Tilsner crept up behind the man, then suddenly grabbed him round the throat with his forearm.

Müller could tell he was beginning to squeeze – the man was fighting for breath, but Tilsner seemed possessed and didn’t appear to want to stop.

Chapter 18

18

ARNIE

Pearson Park, Hull

February 1942

‘Surely you can look a bit smarter than that, Arnold?’ My mother flusters over me, trying to straighten my tie, then when she’s satisfied with that, she starts attempting to run a comb through my hair.

I wrench her off and shrug free. ‘Leave me alone.’

My father lowers his newspaper and glowers at me over the top of his half-eye reading glasses. ‘Don’t raise your voice to your mother, boy.’ He lifts his arm threateningly, the palm of his hand outstretched. ‘Otherwise you’ll get a taste of this. You’re not too old.’

I let out a long sigh. It was bad enough having to write essays about the bombing at school. Describing the night when the whole sky glowed orange, and then the roof fell in, and my baby brother – seemingly untouched – stopped breathing. Some of my friends seemed to revel in reliving it all. I hated it.