“You!” Anielewicz’s mouth fell open in surprise. “Jager!” He hadn’t seen this German in more than a year, and then only for an evening, but he wouldn’t forget him.

“Yes, I’m Heinrich Jager. You know me?” The panzer officer’s gray eyes narrowed, deepening the network of wrinkles around their outer corners. Then they went wide. “That voice… You called yourself Mordechai, didn’t you? You were clean-shaven then.” He rubbed his own chin. Gray mixed with the brownish stubble that grew there.

“You two know each other?” That was the moon-faced younger man who’d been waiting for the stew to finish. He sounded disbelieving.

“You might say so, Gunther,” Jager answered with a dry chuckle. “Last time I was traveling through Poland, this fellow decided to let me live.” Those watchful eyes flicked to Mordechai. “I wonder how much he regrets it now.”

The comment cut to the quick. Jager had been carrying explosive metal stolen from the Lizards. Anielewicz had let him travel on to Germany with half of it, diverting the other half to the United States. Now both nations were building nuclear weapons. Mordechai was glad the U.S.A. had them. His delight that the ThirdReich had them was considerably more restrained.

Gunther stared.“He letyou live? This ragged partisan?” Anielewicz might as well not have been there.

“He did.” Jager studied Mordechai again. “I’d expected more from you than a role like this. You should be commanding a region, maybe the whole area.”

Of all the things Anielewicz hadn’t expected, failing to live up to a Nazi’s expectations of him ranked high on the list. His shrug was embarrassed. “I was, for a while. But then not everything worked out the way I’d hoped it would. These things happen.”