Perhaps twenty-six. Her blond hair, drawn back tightly, was gathered by a thin blue ribbon at the nape of her neck and allowed to hang loosely down her back. Her tanned face was fresh and soft, but her troubled eyes were dark with hate. More than hate. Suspicion. Uncertainty. And fear.Thomas Jaeger knew the look. Knew it well. He had seen it cloud the bleak faces of countless suspects, male and female, young and old, military and civilian, from the shores of Omaha Beach through Normandy and Luxembourg, across the Rhine and through the heartland of Germany to this little Bavarian town of Grafenwöhr nestled in the forest clad mountains twenty-five miles southeast of Bayreuth. Here his Counter Intelligence team, one of the six teams of CIC Detachment 212, had set up shop only the day before, even as the place was being secured by elements of the 1lth Armored Division.Grafenwöhr was a town like so many others in Bavaria. Picturesque, colorful, distinguished only by the presence of a huge German Chemical Warfare Service dump concealed in the woods surrounding it.
