Taplow, England           Siegfried Feuermacht heard about the laboratory death of Ernst Wolfe and after much digging, discovered the Nazi Party was very excited about it, but wanted to keep it secret. It took all of Feuermacht’s resources and a lot of promises to learn the pesticide the scientist had been working on, apparently worked as effectively on humans as it did on insects. More importantly, it could be used as either a liquid or a gas and could have catastrophic consequences, if even a single dose were to be released in a populated area.           Its applications were mind-boggling, but for Feuermacht, they were enlightening. A Swiss invasion plan formulated in his head – seemingly without effort. *           Feuermacht went over the invasion plan one last time, then used an encryption device known as an Enigma Machine, to encode the information. His plan was brilliant. Of that, he was sure. He picked up a leather courier envelope and slipped the encryption and a map, inside. He flattened it with his palms and tucked it inside his shirt.           Unlike his usual modus operandi, on this trip he would be traveling light. No expensive luggage crammed with hunting gear, formal attire and daytime suits. Instead, Feuermacht had stuffed a small leather carryall with only the bare essentials. He was on his way to Cologne to meet up with Rudolf Hess.           He opened a trunk containing his personal possessions and reached for a pistol. He spent the next several minutes cleaning and loading the gun. He tucked it into a secret pocket that had been sewn into his overcoat. Special padding and the cut of the garment made the outline of the pistol virtually undetectable, yet it would be easy to reach in an emergency. But there should be no emergency. According to German intelligence, the Reich should have control of the Rhineland by the time he arrived and he simply had to hand off the plans to Hess.           Feuermacht looked around his room. The few books and personal items that anyone would have access to, would in no way implicate him as a German insider. He locked away the Enigma Machine and took precautions to ensure that his trunk – stored on top of the wardrobe in his dressing room at Cliveden – stayed closed. He positioned a poisoned needle so that it barely stuck out past the edge of the trunk’s lock. Anyone who tried to rifle through Feuermacht’s belongings would quickly meet his maker. Besides, anyone going on top of the wardrobe where he stored the trunk would probably be up to no good. He was only protecting his interests.           As he walked through the drawing room to a waiting car, Waldorf Astor stopped him. “Some breakfast before you leave?”           “Waldorf, you really should think about getting yourself a hotel. You’re always trying to be the perfect host.”           “Then, you must visit New York,” Waldorf replied, “And stay at a real hotel that I do own. Oddly enough, it’s called the Waldorf-Astoria, although it’s a combination of family names rather than named for me. But I’m one of the owners and you’re welcome anytime.”           “I’ll be taking you up on that offer, but right now, I must go. It’s a family emergency.” The Aryan family.           “Then be on your way. And Godspeed.”           As Feuermacht settled into the back seat of a hired car, he smiled. It would be just what he needed after delivering his plan to the Reich – a nice little vacation in New York. Maybe he would travel there by zeppelin. And knowing the Astors, he knew any hotel bearing the name Waldorf-Astoria, would offer the height of luxury. Feuermacht relaxed. He was quite organized and had everything under control. He had been that way since he was a child. *           Eleven-year-old Siegfried sat shivering in a cold classroom. The last of the coal, used to warm the cavernous room, had burned out hours ago and his jacket, while made of wool, was thin and not very warm. He wore a muffler and wool gloves, but one of the fingers had started to unravel and his moth-eaten muffler was itchy.           Someday, he thought, I’m going to be rich and wear only the finest clothing.           He placed his completed assignment on the teacher’s desk. She smiled at him. “You may go outside and play until the others are done.”           She might have meant this to be a reward for his being a ‘gifted’ student, but Siegfried saw it as a punishment — for while the classroom was cold, the schoolyard which stood in the shadow of the building, was even colder. However, he had more important things to think about. He was on a mission. Outside, he crouched behind a rock while he made loose snowballs out of the fresh snow that had fallen overnight.           While he worked, his thoughts focused on a group of older boys. They had chased him and his friends the day before, catching them and rubbing their faces in the snow.           He knew the bullies had a collection of snowballs hidden behind a shed and he was sure they were planning to use them later in the day. He had seen them making their “ammunition,” sprinkling the snowballs with water so they would harden into painful, icy projectiles.           If he worked quickly, he could switch a lot of their snowballs with the ones he was now making, giving him and his friends an advantage.           He borrowed a sleigh one of his classmates had used to get to school and loaded it with his harmless snowballs. Then, he headed over to where he knew the bullies’ cache was hidden.           It was not an easy job. He had to be careful with the fresh snowballs or they would break apart. And he had to move the ice balls in order to put the fresh ones in their place. The sound of two boys running and shouting made him stop. He could feel his heart pounding, but he knew if he didn’t move, it could turn out badly for him.           He dared to peek around the edge of the shed and was relieved to see two younger boys making the noise as they ran around tossing a large ball between them.           Siegfried got back to work and finally finished loading the sleigh with the frozen contraband. He brought it back to the school building where he hid it behind a rubbish container.           When one of his friends finally emerged from the building, Siegfried grabbed him and told him what he had done. He could see the excitement in the other boy’s eyes. As more and more youngsters emerged from the school, Siegfried Feuermacht outlined his plan for revenge.           Finally, the older boys were dismissed from class. Siegfried picked up some snow, packed it into a snowball, and threw it at one of them.           The boy’s eyes blazed with anger. “I’ll make you pay for that.”           Siegfried felt empowered. “I’ll bet my lunch against your hat and gloves that you won’t.”           The older boy laughed and then signaled his friends. They all ran behind the shed where they had hidden their snowy weapons the night before.           Feuermacht motioned for the younger boys to follow him and they waited for the first snowball to be fired.           They could hear the older boys arguing in the distance, but none of the snowballs were thrown in their direction. So, Feuermacht picked up one of the ice balls and packed some fresh snow around it. Then, he walked out in plain sight, knowing the older boys wouldn’t give up the chance to pelt him.           He was right. Soon, a bevy of snowballs came hurtling through the air, some of them breaking apart before they reached him. He stood his ground and saw the boy he had bet against, step forward and start packing a fresh snowball while Feuermacht just stood there.           He waited until his adversary pulled his arm back to throw. Then, Feuermacht fired his ice ball directly at the older boy’s head and heard him scream in anguish when it made contact. With that, the snowball fight escalated into all-out war.           The older boys didn’t have a chance. Even though they tried to pack snowballs as tightly as they could, the ice balls sailed faster and inflicted more pain.           The school bell finally rang, signaling them to return to class. Feuermacht waited next to the door until the boy he had bet against, approached. “Pay up,” he demanded, “or I’ll tell everyone you’re a liar who doesn’t pay his debts.”           The angry boy spit at Feuermacht’s foot. The spittle ran down the toe of his shoe, making it shine. The older boy reluctantly handed Feuermacht his hat and his gloves, then shoved him aside with his shoulder as he walked past him.           Feuermacht didn’t care. He had a warm hat and a pair of real leather gloves. And he’d won the admiration of the younger boys. He had also bested the older ones, and even if they hated him, he had shown them he was smarter than they were. Feuermacht smiled. He loved winning. ***