I sucked in a deep breath and winced. Anton shot Mouse a murderous look. I grabbed Anton's arm.

"Cracked rib," I told him, thinking back to my nursing training during the Great War. "Nothing serious." I did not add that it might be serious and was always painful. Instead I smiled, but he looked unconvinced.

"Where are we going?" I asked again.

No one bothered to answer. Mouse tipped his uniform hat over his eyes and started to snore.

Santer reached across me. I gasped when he pressed on my rib. He thumped Mouse on the chest. Mouse snorted and turned to the side.

Silence reigned.

Even with the windows down, it was too hot jammed between Mouse and Santer. I hugged Anton's small form. Under normal circumstances he never would have allowed it, but he was as frightened as I.

We looked out the window. Dark fields streamed by. If houses existed out there, all were unlit.

"This is Germany," Anton whispered. "I was born here."

I ran my fingers down the bridge of my nose. It did not feel broken. "It was a different country then." I did not try to keep anger and bitterness from my voice.

"It's a better country now," Jannings said. "Stronger."

"Stronger does not always mean better," I answered.

"It does." Jannings kept his eyes on the road. "You'd do well to remember that."

Santer fell asleep. I thought of attempting another escape, but the automobile traveled at least eighty kilometers per hour. Even if we landed uninjured, we had nowhere to hide. I twisted around. The round hump of the trunk was where we might end up if we tried to flee again.

Anton sat as alert as an Indian scout, waiting for his chance. I was proud of him, but furious with myself. How could I have accepted the zeppelin assignment? Switzerland was too close to Germany.

We approached the outskirts of a large city; Jannings slowed. House windows glowed yellow on either side of us. Perhaps someone would hide us, or come to our defense.

"Almost there." Jannings handed Mouse a brown bottle. He withdrew the glass stopper. The odor of chloroform filled the car. I kicked at his hand. If the bottle broke everyone might go down. But Mouse was too strong and had no qualms about leaning on my rib.

Anton struggled against Santer, cursing.

Mouse smashed a damp cloth against my throbbing nose. A sticky sweetness filled my mouth. Air shimmered, moved, and then it was dark.

I woke stretched flat on a bed, my clothing stuck to me. How long had I been unconscious? My head pounded, my nose ached, and my side burned. Moaning, I rolled onto my injured rib. We told our patients to lie so, to let them inflate the uninjured lung fully. Now that it was my own rib, I regretted how blithely I gave that instruction to wounded soldiers almost twenty years ago, surprised none had taken me to task for dispensing such painful and probably useless information. I lay still, breathing shallowly, afraid to open my eyes. Was I in a concentration camp?

I forced open my eyelids. Dark wainscoting clad the walls to waist height, flocked yellow wallpaper above. My suitcase rested next to a waxed pine Biedermeier wardrobe, near the front door as if deposited by a friendly bellhop. Heavy curtains covered the windows, blocking out all light. A green-shaded lamp shone on the night table next to my bed. Next to the table stood a solid wooden chair.

Seated in the chair was Ernst Rohm.

end.