Harris froze; Anja looked down at him with the gun held at her hip, pointing at his head.

He blinked, half crouched, and then slowly held out the hand that wasn’t carrying his helmet.

“There now, put that down.” He motioned with his hand.

Anja didn’t reply.

“Come on, I’m here to help you. Please put it down.”

Anja swallowed and felt her finger tighten on the trigger.

The bobby took another step up the stairs.

“Go,” Anja said, barely a whisper.

“Give me the gun, girl.”

He took another step up.

Anja pulled the trigger.

Click.

Empty.

Neither Anja nor Harris moved or made a sound.

A second seemed like a lifetime, then Harris exhaled and sprinted up toward Anja like a cork out of a bottle.

He caught the barrel of the gun with one hand and Anja round the throat with the other.

His helmet tumbled down the stairs and into the street, and they in turn tumbled into the bedroom, landing hard, Harris on top of Anja on the hard wooden floor. Anja tried to scream, but Harris’s grip on her throat was too tight.

Harris shifted so that he was completely smothering Anja with his body. She felt an overpowering rush of panic flood through her as she realized that she couldn’t move or break free of the weight on her.

Anja felt his hot breath gasping next to her ear. She smelled cigarettes. She struggled to release her arms from where they were pressed against her chest and tried again to scream, but his hand was still choking her. Harris’s cheek rubbed against hers and sharp bristles caught and dug at her skin. She screwed up her eyes in frustration, wriggling underneath the great weight pressing down on her. The sound of Harris’s breathing bellowed next to her ear; he was blowing hard through his nose.

Anja’s panic eased. She turned her head and watched the candle, which seemed to dance slower and slower. She forgot she couldn’t breathe.

Harris released his grip.

She gasped back to life, her hearing and vision returned, and the candle lit the room. She looked up into the eyes of the policeman, who blinked and then laughed loudly.

Anja saw he had a black tooth, left incisor. His breath smelled, and she turned her head as far as she could manage.

“I thought you’d bleedin’ killed me then.” Harris seemed to grab at the words as they fell out of his mouth, almost too fast to catch. He panted, another quick breath, still smiling. “When you pulled that trigger I thought, Hey up. You’re a goner here, Alf.” Harris laughed again; Anja looked at him and saw more rotten teeth in his mouth near the back.

He blew out his cheeks and then dragged Anja up with him as he stood. He gripped her harshly by the collar, almost lifting her off the floor as he held her at arm’s length.

“You scared the shit out of me,” he carried on talking as he roughly rummaged in the pockets of her coat and then quickly searched her for any other weapons, twisting her and pushing her face first against the wall, still holding on to her collar and keeping her on tiptoes.

Anja allowed herself to be searched without making a sound; she neither resisted nor assisted. She simply stood silently, aware that she was held firm by Harris and that any chance of escape was gone.

For now.

He dragged her across to the mattress and pushed her down so that she was sitting on its edge. He let go and slowly withdrew his hand, holding it palm down close to her face.

“Don’t try and run away. I’m here to help you, understand?”

Anja nodded.

“Good girl.” Harris took a few steps back and picked up the Thompson. He looked at the gun, then tried and failed to remove the magazine before looking back at Anja.

“What was going on here? I heard the shooting from a ­couple of streets away. Who was it?”

Anja didn’t reply.

“Come on now, I saw the bullet holes all over the front of this place and I heard enough shooting to start a war. Was it resistance? I didn’t see no Germans around.”

Anja stared at him.

“Where are your papers?” Harris tried to free the magazine again, but he clearly had no idea how to operate the Thompson.

Anja didn’t reply.

“Don’t make me look for them, girl. Where are they?” He lowered the gun to his side, finally admitting he didn’t know how to operate it.

Anja pointed to the inside pocket of her coat.

“Open your coat and take them out slowly.” Harris took a step closer and held out his hand cautiously, ready to strike her if she tried to trick him.

She reached into her inside coat pocket very slowly, removed her identity card, and held it close to her chest.

Harris flicked with his fingers, looking into Anja’s eyes.

“I’m the police, love, you can trust me. Come on . . . give it here.”

Anja gently put her identity card into Harris’s outstretched hand; he smiled at her and then looked down at it.

Harris whistled through his teeth. “You’re a bleedin’ Kraut.”

 

CHAPTER 15

KING WAS OUT of breath. He stopped at the end of the alleyway and looked out onto the street beyond.

It was deserted.

He checked back along the alley he’d just run along, then back to the street.

He was lost.

“Fuck.”

He breathed deeply a few times and tried to slow down his heart, then took a few steps back into the darkness.

“Where are we?” Cook caught up to him, gasping for breath.

“I don’t know, we’ve run too far. This place is a maze. Everywhere looks the same.”

“Can’t we just call the embassy? Have someone come and get us?”

“Nobody needs to know we are out here, Eric.