"Karin has sent emissaries to Hanover," the man shouted as the applause quieted. "In just a few minutes we will all go to the city, to the Beer-Hall, to announce our new union to the world. We will invite our brothers there to join the movement and together we will show civilization its future. A future where sweat and industry will be rewarded…"

There was more applause and cheering.

"…where perverse cultures and faiths and peoples will be segregated from the heart's blood of society…"

The applause and cheering built. It remained strong.

"…where spotlights will play across our symbols, our accomplishments."

The applause grew to a torrent and Herbert used the cover of the din to yell at Jody.

"Come on," he said, pulling at her hand again. "These people will fall on you like dingoes."

Jody looked out at them. Herbert couldn't make out her expression in the dark. He had the urge to shoot her in the foot, throw her across his lap, and start wheeling back.

The speaker yelled, "And if the authorities in Hanover turn on us, let them! Let them! For over a year I have been personally harassed by Hauptmann Rosenlocher of the Hamburg police. If I drive too quickly he is there. If I play music too loudly he is there. If I meet with my colleagues, he is there. But he will not beat me. Let them target us individually or together! They'll see that our movement is organized, that our will is strong."

Jody stared out at the rally. "I don't want to die. But I don't want to live pathetically."

"Jody, you won't--"

She wrenched her hand from Herbert. He didn't try to get it back. He wheeled after her, cursing the stubbornness which had stopped him from getting a goddamned motor. Then he cursed this kid who he understood and had to respect even though she didn't listen to reason. Any more than he did.

As the applause died, Jody's footsteps seemed quite loud to Herbert. Also, apparently, to the sentry nearest them, who turned. He saw them in the light of the files and shouted to the young men and women who were standing nearest to him. A moment later the sentry was moving forward and the others were forming a line behind him with the clear intention of letting Jody and Herbert nowhere near the front of the crowd or Karin Doring or Jody's goal.

Herbert stopped. Jody did not. With a snort of disgust, Herbert wheeled after her.

CHAPTER FORTY-EIGHT

Thursday, 8:36 P.M.,

Southwest of Vichy, France

"There was never any question that I would know how to fly."