Hanging on

was too light for him to return to his room by way of the rose lattice and the rear window. Even if Rotenhausen and Beckmann were not up yet-and they surely were-the chances of some guard on a nearby street spotting him on his climb to the porch roof were too great to be ignored.
        The bold approach was called for.
        Nearly half an hour after dawn, he entered the back of the church. He hurried through the sacristy, up onto the altar platform, down into the auditorium, and out the front door. He winced as the rain struck him anew. He paused only a second at the top of the church steps, then went down to the street.
        The Wehrmacht sentry on duty at B Street and the bridge road was wearing a green rain slicker and a disgusted look. He hunched his shoulders against the rain and paraded back and forth, putting as little into the duty as he could. He gave Kelly a brief smile but did not stop him, for he had just been posted and did not know that the priest had never passed from the rectory to the church.
        Kelly went up the porch steps, crossed the porch, went through the front door with the rain still stinging his back. In the rectory foyer, rivulets of water streamed from him onto the floorboards.
        General Adolph Rotenhausen was just then coming down the steps from the second floor, tamping tobacco into his pipe. "Father Picard! Where have you been at this hour, in this terrible weather?"
        "At the church, General," Kelly said.
        "Oh, of course," Rotenhausen said. "I suppose you have to get ready for Mass each morning."
        "For what?" Kelly asked.
        "Mass, of course," Rotenhausen said.
        Before Kelly could respond, the general's aides appeared at the top of the steps with the officer's belongings, which they brought down and took outside into the morning rain.
        Rotenhausen came to the open door, looked across the porch at the raindrops bouncing on the street. "Miserable day for travel." He looked at his watch. "But Standarten-führer Beckmann was out there an hour ago… Sometimes, I think those madmen deserve the world." He glanced at Kelly and, for the first time, saw how wet the priest was. "You couldn't be so drenched just from crossing the street, Father!"
        "Uh… I went for a walk," Kelly said.
        "In the rain?"
        "Rain is God's creation," Kelly improvised. "It is refreshing."
        Rotenhausen looked at Kelly's dripping suit, shook his head. He turned and continued to watch the rain slash in sheets across the bridge road.
        Also watching the storm, Kelly thought of Lily's wet breasts. For a moment, he was warm and happy… and then he realized he could not afford to love her. He had almost made a drastic mistake.
        Rotenhausen puffed on his pipe.
        Thunder rolled across the sky. Behind the steady drumming of the rain was the dinosaurian roar of Panzer engines as the convoy prepared to pull out.
        "We don't have to worry about Allied bombers today," Rotenhausen said.
        As he spoke, his aide ran up onto the porch. The man took a folded slicker from under his own raincoat, shook it out, and held it up for his chief. The general slipped his arms into the plastic sleeves and buttoned up, turned his collar high. He flipped his pipe upside down and tapped it against the door frame. Ashes fell on the wet porch floor.
        "Good luck at the front, sir," Major Kelly said.
        "Thank you, Father. You have been most gracious."
        "Not at all." Which was true.
        Rotenhausen smiled, nodded, and turned away. He and his aide went down the steps and east along the bridge road to the first tank in the long convoy.
        The rain continued to fall.
        A flash of lightning made shadows jump across the veranda floor.
        The first tank, Rotenhausen's tank, lurched into the middle of the road, tracks churning up mud and gravel, and started toward the bridge two and a half blocks away.
        Still, no alarm had been raised at the west end. Bobo Remlock had not yet arrived. Maybe the Panzers would all get across before Old Blood and Guts made the far side.
        Kelly left the front door. He hurried through the deserted house, passed through the kitchen and out onto the rear lawn.
        The cold rain hit him again, but he hardly noticed. He was too worried about getting his head blown off to be concerned also about catching a cold. His baggy trousers were