The icy fingers of dawn touched the bars of the prison cell, before feeling their way to the body of the young woman slumped across the cement floor. In the grey light, the blood in which she lay shone dully. From outside there came the sounds of shouting, the smart rhythm of hard heels on hard surfaces, and moaning. But inside the cell, the woman said nothing. The Nazi officer standing over her dealt her another kick, half-hearted this time. As though she were no longer worth the effort. Wiping his brow on his sleeve, he took his pistol from its holster.
‘Kneel!’ he ordered in his coarse French accent, shoving her feet with his boot.