London, England           Nigel Townsend entered the office of the Secretary of State for Defense. “I’m sorry to interrupt you, Sir, but we’ve received word from our man in Germany that there may be a plan in the works to invade Switzerland. We believe it’s going to be hand-delivered to Hess in the Rhineland.”           “What the hell is going on?” Each new piece of information the Secretary had received over the past few hours was worse than the report that preceded it. “Go there. Quickly. Quietly. And intercept whatever it is before we end up in the middle of another Great War.”           After Townsend left, War Secretary Alfred “Duff” Cooper leaned back in his chair and tapped his pen against the edge of his highly polished desk. Townsend was the best. He would do what was necessary.           Cooper always surrounded himself with the best, not just people, but objects as well. He stroked the smooth wood of his desk. It was unlike everyone else’s. The other desks in the War Office were worn and dulled with time. Cooper felt they were as pedestrian as the people who sat at them.           He had grown up the fourth child – but only son – of a fashionable society doctor and had been brought up as the privileged heir of a gentleman. When he was appointed Secretary of State for Defense the year before, he had made it a point to re-design his office to suit his style. He brought in a rich mahogany partners' desk with ornate carvings and brass fittings. It had been made by a 19th century French cabinetmaker and had a matching chair that was upholstered in buttery leather. The carpet beneath it was antique Persian silk, and the walls surrounding it were lined with shelves containing leather-bound books about British and military history.           Cooper felt England was close to becoming embroiled in a second devastating war. He had previously served in the Foreign Service and had distinguished himself during the Great War. But he had also seen many of his friends from Eton and Oxford die on the battlefields.           About the only beneficial thing to come out of the last war was his marriage to Lady Diana Manners. She had been quite beautiful and her parents had hoped she might wed the Prince of Wales. Instead, she married Duff Cooper, one of the few members of the original Coterie to survive the war. He smiled at the thought of the fashionable and quotable aristocrats and trendsetters, who made up the Coterie. They were the ones everyone else had wanted to emulate. A clique made up of society’s best and brightest.           Now, nearly two decades had passed. The Coterie was just a pleasant memory, reminiscent of the then-beautiful Diana and the other fashionable and comely young ladies, who had curried his favor, after he had proven himself a war hero.           In the years following their marriage, Diana had been busy with her career. And whether she was totally unaware of the other women who entertained her husband, or just chose to turn a blind eye toward them, he didn't want to know.           Cooper thought back to some of his more interesting liaisons and smiled. While his features prevented him from being handsome, his charisma and intelligence gave him an allure that could not be witnessed in any mirror. His luck at the gaming tables didn't hurt, either. It was his willingness to take risks that had elevated him to the position of power he now held with the British Empire. *           As soon as Townsend arrived back at his office, he arranged for transportation to the Rhineland. Then he prepared for the rigors of a military mission that included snapping a small metal cylinder containing a cyanide capsule into an opening on his belt buckle. Rumors about Nazi enmity toward enemies had been making the rounds and it never hurt to take precautions.           He looked at himself in the mirror. He knew he could blend in. His coloring was common enough. His nose had an uneven bridge, but not enough to distinguish him. He was of average height with a medium build that helped him disappear into crowds easily. His face lit up when he chose to break into an engaging, almost boyish smile, but that just made him seem approachable and endearing. It was a face people would trust. He could easily kill someone – but no one would ever believe him capable of it.           Townsend loved going on missions. There was nothing like a little excitement and he was still young enough to enjoy the thrill of the hunt.           Early in his career, he had been trained as a pilot for the Royal Air Force and today he would prove his prowess with a new RAF monoplane – the Avro Anson. The plane had not yet been put into service, but it was the first RAF plane with retractable landing gear, promising a swift and sure flight. That’s what he said he needed. And the War Office had agreed. ***