In the interrogation room, Lotte warily watched Marek, fully expecting him to shove the knife between her ribs at any moment. She stared at him, willing him to be strong and to make his strike quick and effective.
But the damned man stood in the middle of the room, surrounded by four Gestapo officers with rifles pointing at him. The knife held loosely in his hand, as if he pondered his choices.
“Kill her if she’s not a Polish spy,” Kriminalassistent Heller demanded.
Marek shook his head. “She’s a filthy German, but I won’t kill an unarmed woman. I’m not a cowardly monster like you bastards.”
Heller raised the leather lash in his hand and struck Marek across the chest.
“Don’t hit him, please!” Lotte yelped. But the enraged Gestapo officer raised his lash again and again.
Despite the v
