Carla’s skin crawled. ‘The hospital killed fifty-two people this afternoon, around the time we were there?’
‘Yes.’
‘So they’re all dead, now?’
Ilse nodded.
An intention had been germinating in Carla’s mind, and now she resolved to carry it out. ‘I want to see,’ she said.
Ilse looked frightened. ‘What do you mean?’
‘I want to go inside the hospital and see those corpses.’
‘They’re burning them already.’
‘Then I want to see that. Can you sneak us in?’
‘Tonight?’
‘Right now.’
‘Oh, God.’
Carla said: ‘You don’t have to do anything. You’ve already been brave, just by talking to us. If you don’t want to do any more, it’s okay. But if we’re going to put a stop to this we need proof.’
‘Proof.’
‘Yes. Look, the government is ashamed of this project – that’s why it’s secret. The Nazis know that ordinary Germans won’t tolerate the killing of children. But people prefer to believe it’s not happening, and it’s easy for them to dismiss a rumour, especially if they hear it from a young girl. So we have to prove it to them.’
‘I see.’ Ilse’s pretty face took on a look of grim determination. ‘All right, then. I’ll take you.’
Carla stood up. ‘How do you normally get there?’
‘Bicycle. It’s outside.’
‘Then we’ll all ride.’
They went out. Darkness had fallen. The sky was partly cloudy, and the starlight was faint. They used their cycle lights as they rode out of town and up the hill. When they came in sight of the hospital they switched off their lights and continued on foot, pushing their bikes. Ilse took them by a forest path that led to the rear of the building.
Carla smelled an unpleasant odour, somewhat like a car’s exhaust. She sniffed.
Ilse whispered: ‘The incinerator.’
‘Oh, no!’
They hid the bikes in a shrubbery and walked silently to the back door. It was unlocked. They went in.
The corridors were bright. There were no shadowy corners: the place was lit like the hospital it pretended to be. If they met someone they would be seen clearly. Their clothes would give them away immediately as intruders. What would they do then? Run, probably.
Ilse walked quickly along a corridor, turned a corner, and opened a door. ‘In here,’ she whispered.
They walked in.
Frieda let out a squeal of horror and covered her mouth.
Carla whispered: ‘Oh, my soul.’
In a large, cold room were about thirty dead people, all lying face up on tables, naked. Some were fat, some thin; some old and withered, some children, and one baby of about a year. A few were bent and twisted, but most appeared physically normal.
Each one had a small sticking-plaster on the upper left arm, where the needle had gone in.
Carla heard Frieda crying softly.
She steeled her nerves. ‘Where are the others?’ she whispered.
‘Already gone to the furnace,’ Ilse replied.
They heard voices coming from behind the double door at the far end of the room.
‘Back outside,’ Ilse said.
They stepped into the corridor. Carla closed the door all but a crack, and peeped through. She saw Herr Romer and another man push a hospital trolley through the doors.
The men did not look in Carla’s direction. They were arguing about soccer. She heard Romer say: ‘It’s only nine years ago that we won the national championship. We beat Eintracht Frankfurt two-nil.’
‘Yes, but half your best players were Jews, and they’ve all gone.’
Carla realized they were talking about the Bayern Munich team.
Romer said: ‘The old days will come back, if only we play the right tactics.’
Still arguing, the two men went to a table where a fat woman lay dead. They took her by the shoulders and
