The following afternoon, Colonel Derrick Albrecht allowed his valet to finish securing the red, white, and black armband displaying the thunderbolt rune of the Schutzstaffel, the last item of his uniform to be donned before leaving for his trip to L’Ecole d’Escrime Français and his Sunday bout with Mademoiselle Colbert. The elderly family retainer who’d looked after him since he was a boy stood back and surveyed him admiringly. Designed to project authority and foster terror, the SS uniform was often enough to shake information out of someone brought to SD headquarters before the luckless soul even had to be escorted to the cells on the top floor. “The uniform was designed for you, Herr Colonel.”

“Pardon?”

The valet handed him his uniform hat and repeated, “The uniform. It becomes you.” The old servant’s wrinkled lips stretched into a grin. “Your mind is on the beautiful mademoiselle you were with last night, ja?”

“You are most observant, Eduard. As a matter of fact, my thoughts were indeed on a beautiful woman.”

“So, who is my competition?” Celeste had asked in her matter-of-fact way without rancor the previous night after Derrick’s distracted performance. “Your mind is elsewhere other than in my bed, mon ami.” She’d set a cigarette between her teeth and clicked a gold Cartier lighter to its tip.

Derrick had pulled up against the satin-padded back of the headboard monogrammed with the logo of the Ritz Hotel and took the draw she offered. Celeste was his mistress. She had no designs on him other than as a friend as well as a lover. She lived in the hotel. “Someone I must protect,” he’d said.

She’d tousled his hair. “Protect? Do I detect a man in love? You—the man I suspect would give his life for someone, but never his heart.”

“Love is an irrational emotion that runs contrary to human nature, Celeste.”

“Against self-preservation, you mean.”

“I admit to holding with Kipling’s view of relationships to let all men count with you, but none too much. I include women in that philosophy.”

She’d laughed, taking back the cigarette. “Until one comes along that means everything.”

“You cannot be in love with a person who loathes you, Celeste. You can only admire her for her good taste.” He’d leaned over and kissed her bare shoulder. “Have no fear, my sweet. I shall be returning to your bed often.”

Now, Derrick accepted a fresh white handkerchief from his valet and slipped it into his pocket. Handkerchiefs were sometimes needed in interrogations of women. Lastly, he drew on a pair of black leather gloves. A final look in the mirror confirmed that he was indeed a figure to inspire terror.