“It is, but so far the sergeant hasn’t been inclined to pull the pin.”

Chris, still shocked by the news that Dirk Drechsler was actually living in Paris, spoke up. “What does that mean—that Dirk hasn’t been in the mood to turn you over to his buddies or that he hasn’t had reason to? God—” He shook his head in incredulous wonder. “I just can’t believe the meathead went through with it…join the enemy. I knew he left home with the intent to sign up with the German intelligence agency, but I thought he was just shooting his mouth off—being his usual all-thunder-but-no-rain self. I expected him to chicken out and lie low somewhere in the States until the war was over rather than come home to face his family and community. I would never have believed that he could actually be part of an organization that interrogates…tortures American prisoners…”

“You can believe it,” Bucky said, “but if it’s a comfort, I think he regrets it and would jump at the chance to turn around and go home.” He readjusted his seating position. “But I have to come clean with you guys and tell you that I believe I have roused the sergeant’s suspicions, so if anybody should head for the door, it’s me.”

“Because of me?” Victoria asked.

“No, Liverwort. You may have added to his suspicions, but Drechsler was onto me before you showed up. I don’t think he suspects me of being an American. It’s not anything he’s heard in my speech. His ear isn’t that finely tuned to French. It’s something else, but I can’t figure out what. I just know he’s done nothing about it, and I’m willing to take the risk that he doesn’t intend to, but if you guys think it’s too dangerous to your security for me to chance it…well, then, I’ll head for the door.”

“Why do you think he won’t turn you in?” Brad asked.

“Because I believe he’s lost heart for the job. It’s clear he’s become totally disillusioned with the Nazi Party and regrets joining the German Army. He’s downright miserable and lonely as hell. His superiors treat him like a mud hen in a muster of peacocks, and I gather that everybody he works with does, too. He’s an outcast. You’d think he’d hand me over just to get into their good graces, but I’ve gotten the impression he no longer gives a piss whether he’s in their good graces or not. He just wants out.”