“An officer should always have a coat!” said Lange, a little too boisterously.

The guard at the gate to the prisoners’ part of the camp saluted them keenly. They all saluted back, Lockhart halfheartedly.

“Well done, Hauptsturmführer,” said Strasser under his breath.

Lockhart ignored the patronizing comment.

“By the way,” he said, “you still haven’t told me how many men have enlisted.”

“So far, we have eight….”

“Eight!”

“…and more will come shortly.”

“Eight?!”

Lockhart’s voice went up an octave. He stopped and addressed Strasser directly, pointing his finger at his chest.

“This is ridiculous! You can’t call eight men a corps—it’s not even a bloody football team!”

Strasser stayed calm.

“I know, Lockhart, I know, but we are actively looking for more. With you on board, I’m sure many more will join.”

Lockhart let his hand drop to his side.

“You didn’t tell me anything about recruiting.”

“That’s because you didn’t ask. Anyway, we’re nearly at their quarters—we can continue this conversation tomorrow. And before I forget—I’ve told them you’ve joined up because you think the Allies are going to lose the war.”

Lange led the way up the steps to a sectioned-off part of one of the two large prisoner huts. He opened the door, candlelight spilling onto the snow-covered steps. He could hear English voices, evidently already fueled by drink. As the three men stepped into the crude dormitory, the revelers stood to attention.

“Men,” said Strasser, “I would like to present your new officer-in-charge, Hauptsturmführer John Lockhart. Hauptsturmführer Lockhart will be…”

But Lockhart was no longer listening. Instead, he was looking straight at the flushed and shocked face of Andrew Worstead.

AUGUST 1939

It’s time to leave, time to get out of England, away from this rotten state corrupted by Jews and Commies. It’s time to embrace a new life, a life where they will be free to speak their minds, in a place where their views will be respected. But time is against them and they must hurry. He knows it will be war soon—everybody knows it will be war soon—and as far as he’s concerned, he wants to help fight it somewhere else.

They’re living in Earls Court now, not Tooting. The money’s tight, and so they’re in a grubby little basement flat—Eileen hates it, but she knows it’s not for long. One day, he tells her, one day they will have the run of every building in London, for they will come back as heroes, back to claim what is rightfully theirs. The Leader will see to it, don’t you worry, my love, for the Leader is a good man, and he will make sure that their loyalty is rewarded. But for now, there is only one place for them, and that is Berlin.