Page 62 of The Tattooist of Auschwitz

‘You see your world reflected in a mirror, but I have another mirror,’ Lale says.

Baretski stops. He looks at Lale, and Lale holds his stare.

‘I look into mine,’ says Lale, ‘and I see a world that will bring yours down.’

Baretski smiles. ‘And do you think you will live to see that happen?’

‘Yes, I do.’

Baretski places his hand on his holstered pistol. ‘I could shatter your mirror right now.’

‘You won’t do that.’

‘You’ve been out in the cold too long, Tätowierer. Go and get warm and come to your senses.’ Baretski walks away.

Lale watches him leave. He knows that if they were ever to meet on a dark night on equal terms it would be he who would walk away. Lale would have no qualms about taking this man’s life. He would have the last word.

•

One morning in late January, Gita stumbles through the snow towards Lale, running towards his block, somewhere he’s told her never to come near.

‘There’s something happening,’ she cries.

‘What do you mean?’

‘The SS, they’re acting strange. They seem to be panicking.’

‘Where’s Dana?’ Lale asks with concern.

‘I don’t know.’

‘Find her, go to your block and stay there until I come.’

‘I want to stay with you.’

Lale pulls her off him, holding her at arm’s length.

‘Hurry, Gita, find Dana and go to your block. I’ll come and find you when I can. I need to find out what’s going on. There haven’t been any new arrivals for weeks now. This could be the beginning of the end.’

She turns and moves reluctantly away from Lale.

He reaches the administration building and cautiously enters the office, so familiar to him from years of obtaining supplies and instructions. Inside, it’s chaos. SS are yelling at frightened workers, who cower at their desks as the SS pull books, cards and paperwork from them. An SS worker hurries past Lale, her hands full of papers and entry books. He bumps into her and she spills what she is carrying.

‘I’m sorry. Here, let me help you.’

They both bend down to gather up the papers.

‘Are you all right?’ he says as gently as possible.

‘I think you may be out of a job, Tätowierer.’

‘Why? What’s going on?’

She leans into Lale, whispering now.

‘We’re emptying the camp, starting tomorrow.’

Lale’s heart leaps. ‘What can you tell me? Please.’