The most important thing about this incredible revelation was something the moron Schmundt failed to see the enormity of the significance of. By linking the Christian resistance network to the Jewish network—with the Dortmann estate sitting squarely in the center of them both—the biggest fish of all might have been snagged!

How could he have failed to make the connection before? The direction the traitors had followed since leaving Wloclawek bore in a straight line to the north of Stettin!

At last he had discovered his whereabouts!

Rabbi Wissen was with the baron!

He would nab them all—and the holy stones of divination to boot!

87 Heinrich and Marion

87

Heinrich and Marion

The hour was late. The baron and his wife had already been talking together for some time.

The mood between them was somber. The peaceful calm of life as they had known it at Lebenshaus had begun drawing to a close that fateful morning when they had stood with their daughter on the balcony listening to the sounds of invasion and destruction in Poland.

Five years had passed since then.

Now a new threshold was about to be crossed, perhaps an eternal one. Both were wise enough to apprehend the potential extent of the sacrifice looming before them.

They sat together on the couch in their sitting room, legs stretched up on an ottoman in front of them, the baron’s arm around Marion’s shoulder, Marion’s head nestled comfortably between his shoulder and chest. They were of the kind who needed no constant flow of words to exchange the flow of their love. They were as content, each in the other’s presence, whether silence or tumult, solitude or throng was the accompanying backdrop to their togetherness. They had spent the evening together and had, by mutual accord, quietly relived many of the paths they had trod with one another through the years.

They were in no hurry to retire.

Both were sufficiently worldly-wise in the innocence of their “childship” to realize the import of the time. The eleventh hour for the people of God in Germany was come. The clock continued its fateful clicking toward the black midnight of their destiny.

Heinrich and Marion von Dortmann—son and daughter of the most high God, the God of their mutual father Abraham and all who followed him in the royal lineage of Jesus Christ, firstborn Son of the Father—knew that they could well be sharing their last such intimate earthly moments together.

Neither had spoken for ten minutes. The entire house stood silent. The great clock on the wall opposite slowly ticked off its reminder that the passage of time is no respecter of persons.

“Gustav’s visit yesterday bodes ill,” the baron said at length, his tone revealing that he had been considering the implications for some time. It was Gustav’s presence that had alerted them to the danger about to befall their place of retreat and safety.