Richter was as yet too weak to be a real force in Germany, but he would have to be put in his place before he became one. Firmly, and not necessarily gently. Richter was still Dominique's first choice, but if he couldn't have him he would have Karin Doring. She was also independent, but she also needed money. And after seeing what was going to happen to Richter, she would be reasonable.

The anger began to leave his eyes as he looked at the dark shape of the guillotine. Like Danton, who began his crusade against the monarchy as a moderate man, Dominique would become increasingly more severe. Otherwise, his allies and enemies both would perceive him as weak.

It would be a delicate thing, making sure that Richter was disciplined without driving him away. But as Danton had said in a speech to the Legislative Committee of General Defense in 1792, "Boldness, and again boldness, and always boldness!" The boldness of the guillotine, the boldness of conviction. Then as now, that was what people required to win a revolution.

And he would win this. Then he would settle an old debt. Not with Richter but with another German. One who had betrayed him on that long-ago night. The man who had put everything in motion.

He would destroy Richard Hausen.

CHAPTER TWELVE

Thursday, 11:55 A.M.,

Wunstorf, Germany

It was the bathroom fire alarm which stopped Jody from screaming.

Wisps of smoke seeping through the vent had triggered the alarm. The high whine pierced her panic and, brought her back to the moment, to the situation at hand. She breathed in, calmed herself, then exhaled.

They're trying to blow the trailer up, she told herself.

As when she faced the gun, Jody knew that every second-- any second-- could be her last. Quickly, she went to the window and pushed her hand through the metal bars. She threw the latch with her fingertips, put her palms to the frosted glass, and pushed up. She pressed her face to the bars and watched the twisted length of cloth as it burned. It wasn't stuffed into the gas tank. It was just lying there, air flowing around it, providing the catalyst for the fire. She pushed her arm out the window, tried to reach the wick. She fell over a foot short.

"God, no!"

She threw herself back from the bars, pushed her hair from her eyes, and looked around. There had to be something she could use to reach it. Sink. Toilet. Nothing.

The Sink- She thought of dousing the fire, but there was nothing in the bathroom to use as a bucket or ladle.

"Think!" she screamed.

She turned around slowly. She saw the shower, but there were no bath towels. She tried to pull the towel bar off the back of the stall, couldn't, then noticed the showerhead. It was attached to a hose.