“Yes, Lockhart, really. The project is called the British Free Corps. It is a unit of the SS staffed entirely by Englishmen dedicated to the destruction of Communism.”

Again Lockhart was speechless. Could this be so? He found it hard to imagine a single Englishman joining the SS.

“You look surprised, Lockhart.”

“I am. How many men have joined up?”

“Several, and soon there will be many more.”

“And where are they all?”

“They are here, here in this camp.”

“What sort of men are they? Where are they from?”

“You’ll find out when you meet them.”

“And what do you want me to do?”

“We want you to be the unit’s commanding officer.”

Lockhart stayed silent, taking a deep breath through his nose. He reached for a piece of bratwurst, aware of the three pairs of eyes scrutinizing him. He chewed the meat, and pulled the rind out of his pursed mouth.

“Let’s get this straight,” he said, finishing his mouthful, “you would like me to be an SS officer, leading a unit staffed by traitors. And would you expect me to fight?”

“That is the purpose of the Waffen-SS,” said Strasser dryly.

“Against the English?”

“No, we would not ask you to do that,” Strasser continued. “You would fight against the Russians.”

“And when would we go into action?”

“As soon as the unit reaches a strength of thirty. That is a direct order from the Führer.”

“If I joined, that would make me a traitor. I would be taking up arms against an ally of the Crown. If I was caught, I would be hanged, assuming that the Russian front didn’t do it for me first.”

“Your conscience is your own problem, Lockhart. All I can tell you is that by joining the BFC, you will guarantee your wife’s safety. It’s that simple. If I was in your boots, I’d do the same thing.”

The other men nodded.

“Come on, old boy,” said Hillen-Ziegfeld. “You know—”

“Don’t ‘old boy’ me,” snapped Lockhart.

Strasser and Lange chuckled a little. It was clear that they had a similar antipathy toward the bureaucrat.

Lange piped up.

“May I make a suggestion?”

The question was addressed to Strasser, who nodded.

“I think maybe we should leave Captain Lockhart for a few minutes to collect his thoughts. He is clearly in some sort of turmoil, and I think he needs a little time to himself.”

Lange stood up, and walked over to his desk. He took a piece of paper out of a drawer, and slid it, along with a pen, over the desk in Lockhart’s direction.

“When we’re outside,” he said, “have a look at this. It’s just a form. No pressure.”

Strasser and Hillen-Ziegfeld stood up.

“Good idea, Oskar,” said Strasser. “Let’s stretch our legs.”

Lange locked the drawer and looked up at Lockhart.

“Don’t treat me like an idiot and try to steal anything or jump out of the window—all right?”

“Sure,” said Lockhart.