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announcing my membership in the British Union of Fascists. I follow an enlightened and blessed leadership straight ahead into Great Britain’s marvelous future. I invite you to join me. One country under one flag, one God, and one leader — Sir Oswald Mosley!
    A Blackshirt ran up and caught his breath at the open door to Edward’s room. “We need your help!”
    “What’s the matter?” demanded one of Edward’s guards.
    “There are too many hecklers and they’re disrupting the rally. We’ll need everyone to clear them out of the hall.”
    “Commies and Jews!” spat Edward’s guard. He glanced at Edward. “Wait here, sir. Don’t leave the room under any circumstances. We’ll sort this out.”
    As soon as the Blackshirts left, Edward stood up and stepped into the hallway. He could hear the shouting and yelling and Sir Oswald making use of the public address system to speak above all the noise. There werethe sounds of things being smashed and broken. And then screaming. He crept through the corridor to a spot near the stage that permitted a view of most of the Grand Hall. Blackshirts were punching and kicking people and using choke holds as they dragged men and women outside. Many of the persons they wrestled with were fighting back. Sir Oswald kept trying to finish his speech, but the brawling got worse, breaking out all over the hall as Blackshirts beat heckler after heckler. Edward saw blood spring onto hands and faces. Sir Oswald stopped and stood back from the microphone.
    Get out .
    The voice in his head was so strong Edward thought a man was behind him. He made his way quickly to a stage door that should have been guarded by Blackshirts. It was locked from the inside. He slipped the bolt and pushed it open. Blackshirts were fighting with people on the grass and in the parking lot. He tugged the brim of his top hat down to cover as much of his face as possible and made his way off the grounds and down the street. Bobbies ran past him. He continued to walk as swiftly as he could, finally taking an alley and emerging on another street, where he hailed a cab.
    “How are you then tonight, guv’nor?” asked the driver as he edged into traffic.
    Edward stared at the trucks and cars and wagons that streamed back and forth and watched men and women mingling on the sidewalks and in front of the shops.
    “Never better,” he replied.
    The end of June, 1934
    The Hartmanns were still in hiding when the baron arrived at midnight, his Luger in his fist as he hurried up the ladder into the attic where the family was waiting. Seeing the gun, Albrecht immediately stood up in the cramped space.
    “So you’ve finally come to do what you planned all along?”
    The baron’s face was hard and sharp. “I had to shoot my driver.”
    “What? Why?”
    “Before he shot me. I also had to shoot the man and woman who have been keeping you here.”
    Albrecht’s face tightened. “I never heard the shots.”
    “I had the Luger under a pillow.”
    “What on earth are you doing, Baron?” asked Catherine, her arms around Sean and Angelika. “Why are you on this killing spree?”
    “We are betrayed. Herr Hitler has begun a purge of the Brownshirts and the Communists and everyone else he perceives as a threat to his grip on power. My driver said he had been ordered to execute me because I was hiding Jews. But his shot hit the car door. Mine hit him in the throat. When I left the car I saw the man of the house peering through the window. He aimed a rifle at me but I ducked out of sight. I thought he had mistaken me for Gestapo. But I heard him shout to his wife to get the other gun and go to the back door and shoot von Isenburg. I entered through the outside cellar door and came up into the hall behind the woman. I snatched a pillow and placed it over the Luger and shot her as she turned. You heard nothing but the man did. He rushed into the hall and I shot him as well.”
    Catherine shook her head. “Why have they turned