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his way.
    Max’s face burned. Never had he been so humiliated. “I am German, but I am
not
a Nazi sympathizer.”
    One suited man stood and walked toward him. He reached into his pocket for a cigarette, lit it, and tossed the match into the ashtray on the table. Max stared at the cigarette, yearning for a smoke. He had lost his pipe when the ship went down.
    The man flicked an ash from his cigarette. “Let me clarify,” he said, his polished voice calm, his British accent clipped. “You are a German citizen; we can detain you indefinitely.”
    A sharp knock sounded at the door and a woman handed a note to the man. He read it, folded it back so that only the signature was visible, and slid it across the table to Max. “Friends in high places, I see.”
    The note was signed,
Sir Nathan Newell-Grey
. Jon’s father, Max recalled.
    The man inclined his groomed, balding head. “How long have you lived in Poland?”
    “Twenty-five years. My mother is Polish, we live on our family estate in Klukowski.”
    The man’s gaze took in Max’s dirty, torn clothes. “
Your
estate?”
    “Yes, our estate. I don’t always look like a hired hand.”
    “Hmm.” The man’s cool blue eyes held his. “And your loyalty is with which country?”
    “My loyalty is with Poland,” Max replied through gritted teeth. “For God’s sake, man, my mother and son are still there.”
    “Does your loyalty extend to the German people?”
    Was this man trying to trick him?
Max hesitated, checked his anger. It was complicated, but Max had his standards. “Yes,” he said with renewed conviction. He took care to pronounce the English words. “But my loyalty is to the people of Germany, not to Hitler. The people must be freed of his reign, their honor restored.”
    “Hmm, their honor, indeed.”
    Max clenched his jaw. He had spent his life trying to regain the honor of his father’s family.
Did I reveal too much?
He drew a steadying breath. He knew he must be more careful, or he would never regain his freedom, let alone his honor.
    The suited man eased himself on to the edge of the table. With a lift of his hand, the uniformed men left the room. “Would you be willing to travel into Germany and Poland on behalf of His Majesty’s government to help oust Hitler’s regime?”
    Max’s heart skipped. “When can I go?”
    For the first time, a shadow of a smile flickered across the man’s face. “We must complete our security check first.”
    Emboldened, Max drew himself up in his chair. “I have one condition.”
    The man’s eyebrow arched.
    “I must see to my family’s safety.”
    The man glanced at his two colleagues in the corner. The eldest nodded in agreement. “We’ll be in touch.”
    After they opened the door and left, Max swallowed a surge of relief, replaced by a new sense of bitter resolve. What choice did he have? His gut tightened. He was a man without a country; his Germany was gone.
    * * *
    When Danielle and Jon reached the processing area, Danielle went through a debriefing, gave their address, her parents’ address in France, and assured officials Max was not working against British interests. Once they realized Danielle’s mother was Jewish, they asked few questions. How could a man be a Nazi sympathizer with a wife and son of Jewish heritage?
    Minutes later, Max appeared at Danielle’s side, and she was relieved to see him. “Thank God you’re all right.” He embraced her and buried his face in her tangled hair. He pulled back, drew his brows together. “And the baby?”
    She placed her hand on her slight belly. “Fine, I’m sure.”
    Max turned to Jon, who stood next to Danielle. “Give my regards to your father, Jon. Please tell him thank you.”
    “It was nothing, really. My father simply put in a good word for you. You’ve both been granted temporary asylum, Danielle.” Jon gave her a sad smile. “If you’ll excuse me, I’ll find Libby Leibowitz. We could all use a hot bath and a change of