A CLICK OF THE LATCH

Looming out of the dark, Gestapo Headquarters was even more nightmarish in the dead of night.

The building was silhouetted against the river, silent and unnatural. The trees cast twisted shadows across its bricks and I imagined it to be filled with damp rooms and gloomy corners. There would be tools of torture, blood-stained floors, and monsters like Wolff waiting to hit women and drag boys into the darkness.

‘There must be loads of them work in there,’ I whispered.

Lisa shook her head. ‘I don’t think so. Just Wolff and one or two others.’

‘Why is it so big then?’

‘Papa said it used to be a house, the biggest in town, so they took it. He said they always take the best for themselves.’

I stood in the shadow of the wall on the opposite side of the road and stared at the large building. It looked to me like a terrible prison. A place where unspeakable things happened.

When I was in the city, I used to cycle past the official buildings, with Nazi flags draped over them, and hope that one day I would go inside and see the men in their flawless uniforms. I imagined that I would even work in there and that it would be perfect.

Now though, looking at this building, I saw only fear and pain. Nothing here was perfect.

I shivered and tightened my fingers into fists.

‘Shall we do it?’ Lisa looked at me and then leaned out to glance each way along the street. ‘It’s clear.’

My whole body was quaking, but I was determined not to lose my nerve. ‘Yeah. Come on.’

I jogged across the road, where Kriminalinspektor Wolff’s black Mercedes was hunched like a beast waiting to spring, and looked both ways, before heading through the open gate. Lisa kept up with me, and as soon as we were in the garden, I tugged the can of paint from my bag.

Lisa stepped into the shadows at the side of the path and scanned the street and house, while I crouched in front of the building and took a screwdriver from my bag, using it to pry open the lid of the paint can. It came up with a small pop, then I fished the paintbrush out of my bag and began to work.

The bricks were rough and difficult to paint on, so I had to rub hard with the brush and keep reloading it again and again.

My heart was pounding with excitement and fear. I was so afraid of this place and of being caught, but at the same time it was exhilarating. I was getting my own back. I was doing something. This was my revenge for what Wolff had done to Mama and to Stefan. I was showing them what I thought of them for taking my papa away and letting him die.

In the distance, the faint sounds of activity from Feldstrasse continued, and there might have been a hint of smokiness on the breeze, but mostly I could smell paint and hear the sound of the brush scraping against the bricks.

When I was finished, I replaced the lid on the paint tin and shoved it back into my bag with the brush and screwdriver, then we retreated further along the path and looked up at my handiwork.

This close, the white letters shone in the night. In the morning they would glare brilliantly in the sun, sending their message to anyone who happened to pass.

Beneath the words, though, was the part I was most proud of. An edelweiss. Just like the ones I had seen on the walls.

Lisa took a deep breath and nudged me. ‘Come on, Karl Friedmann, we’d better get out of here.’

And that’s when we heard it.

A terrifying sound that froze my heart right in my chest.

A sound that snatched the breath from my lungs and made my body numb.

It was a simple sound that in daylight, at home, would not have made me think twice. But in darkness, after what we had just done, the sound of a door opening was the most awful sound there could be.

A rattle of the handle.

A click of the latch.

A squeak of hinges.

The heavy front door of the Gestapo headquarters swung open and a figure appeared, silhouetted in the dull glow of a light somewhere inside the building.

Right away, I knew who it was.

The shape of Kriminalinspektor Gerhard Wolff was unmistakeable.