Lockhart looked up at him. Dietrich’s eyes were wide open, and he was breathing heavily through his nose. Lockhart did his best to register no emotion, and he held Dietrich’s inquisitive stare. The German was almost willing him with his eyes to work for him, to betray the Cretans and the SOE, to betray his country. There was no way Lockhart could do that; there was no way he could become a traitor. If that was the only way to live, then he would rather die. Anna would expect it of him.

As Lockhart opened his mouth, Dietrich’s expression turned to that of near-desperate expectation.

“May I sleep on it?” Lockhart asked. He wanted to buy himself some time. Perhaps he could turn this offer to his advantage, but at the moment he couldn’t think. He was tired, hungry and still in great pain.

Dietrich’s face fell. But then the prisoner had a point—it was getting late and it had been a long day.

“You may, but so long as you tell me your real name.”

There was nothing to lose. In fact, it might even buy him some goodwill, whet Dietrich’s appetite.

“My name is Lockhart. Captain John Lockhart.”

Whatever it was, it wasn’t sleep that Lockhart got that night. Instead, it was a type of disturbed and fearful drifting, caused by nervousness and exhaustion. His body ached for rest and yet his mind kept churning over the same thought. Its ramifications both troubled and delighted him, gave him comfort and threw him back down.

It would be a tremendous risk. Losing his life was one thing, but others might lose theirs. What had he to gain? Everything. Anna, Amy and an escape from torture and imminent death. It gave him a slim chance of growing old in that often-imagined armchair by the fire. But his decision would hazard the lives of those he hoped to save. What right did he have to risk them for his sake? None, but what if it worked? Surely Anna would want him to do what he had in mind? Surely she would see that if there was an opportunity for them to be reunited, then it should be taken?

He thought of Theseus, who had come to Crete to save fourteen young Athenians from being murdered every nine years by the Minotaur. Theseus had risked his life to kill Minos’s beast, thought Lockhart, risked his life to save his people, his family. He could have stayed in Athens and rested on his laurels. Would Theseus have posed as a traitor to save his family? Like Theseus, Lockhart had come to Crete to stop others from dying, and he must do the same.

Loyalty to family, loyalty to country. He had never doubted either of them, but if one of them had to give, then he knew which one it would be. He would rather die a true husband than a true patriot.

“Good morning, Captain Lockhart.”