Prologue

Szucha Street No. 25
Warsaw, January 1944

 

The bone jutted sharply out of her thigh, a jagged peak with a bloody summit. She turned her head, afraid she would pass out if she stared at the gruesome gash any longer. She moaned, the pain coursing up her leg through her heart, stabbing her mind. She screamed, a shrill shriek of agony. The cry cut off as she gasped for air. Coughing, fluid filled her mouth. She tasted metal and salt. She spat the foul liquid, gulping for air.

“I will ask you again, Frau Sendler, where is egota? Who is egota?”

That name again. Her mind wandered through the dark alleys of consciousness. She knew that name. There was something about it, something important. She couldn’t remember what. She traveled the tunnels of her mind, seeking answers, but she was exhausted and alone, pain her constant companion. She labored to move her hands, to touch the fiery laceration on her thigh, but her wrists were restrained at her waist, secured to this damnable chair.

“I don’t know why you won’t help me, Irena. Why you won’t help yourself.”

She felt pressure on the broken bone. She tried to wrench her eyes open to see what was happening, but the blinding agony barred her. Her mind exploded with fire, her head spun, and she felt the world tilting. She cried out again, louder this time. She heard words, begging, pleading. Her words.

“Just tell me the truth, Irena, and this will all end. You can have morphine. Later, we’ll bring you food. Everything your heart desires. Do you think I want to do this to you? You’ve left me with no choice. Now I ask again, where is egota?”

She wanted to tell him. If she could only remember! Why wouldn’t her mind work? If she could just find a pathway through the burning torment, she would tell him everything, anything. “Morphine,” she whispered. That was the answer. “Give me morphine.”

“Not just yet. Tell me first.”

“egota,” she said, trying to remember.

“Yes, egota,” the voice repeated eagerly. “Give me everything.”

His words were close now, right next to her ear. If only she could remember. The pain subsided a fraction. The brilliant brightness was gone, leaving the darkness again. Her mind wandered through an abyss. In the distance she saw something familiar, a name, a face. egota. She whispered the name out loud again.

“Yes. Tell me now. Quickly.”

She tried to move her lips, but it was too late. She was falling, tumbling through the darkness.

“Irena!” She heard his screaming voice, but soon even that was fading away.