I stepped out into the night. Wind pushed at me and I pulled my old coat tight. I hadn't worn the new clothes yet except the boots and a sweater. Better to be old and ragged when doing this. To be bloody warm and full-I hadn't felt this way in a long while. I hurried along the street, darted up an old, disused staircase and then began moving along the rooftops. This was familiar to me-I had done this so often. Despite what Rob thought, I did get out of the Ghetto fairly frequently. I nicked things here and there, fenced items with Gilroy. I hadn't mentioned it to Rob because, of course, he would ask why I hadn't escaped. I had once-I tried not to remember what had happened when I had been caught. England's the greatest country on Earth but we're still an island. Can't run far. I jumped to the next roof. Soon I stood on the rain damp cobbles outside a nearby hospital. Medicine tonight, maybe a few other items. I headed inside. Around ten minutes later, I hurried from the hospital, stolen doctor's bag stuffed with medical supplies and medicines. It had been a good night and I knew Gilroy would pay well for this.

I moved back towards the ghetto. I was about two blocks from it, near the gate, when I spotted a figure slouching my way. "Speak of the devil," I muttered. Gilroy strolled my way and I quickly looked around for his bully boys. Gilroy knew his business well. While I didn't trust him at all, he was fair enough for a crook. And he hated the Ghetto as much as anyone.

"Newkirk," he murmured.

"Gilroy. Have some medicine for you."

"This way," he said. He stepped over a few feet, into an alcove, and I let him look in the bag. He gave a shark's smile. "Not bad, old man."

"Not bad," I snorted.

"I 'ave a bunch of spices. I'll give you 50 quid and them."

I nodded. While I knew he'd make far more than that on the medicine, 50 quid wasn't anything to sneeze at. He reached in his pocket, pulled out crumpled bills and gave them to me. "Drop the spices off with Philippe," I said, shoving the fifty quid deep in my sock.

"Fair enough. Nice boots." Gilroy tilted his head. "I heard you picked up some Yank."

"None of your business," I said. "I steal for you, Gilroy, I don't bloody shag for you."

He laughed then both of us wheeled at a whistle. Gilroy and I took off running. I stopped as a familiar figure shouted at me and a gunshot rang through the air. Cold tremors swept through me. "What are you doing out after hours?"

My gaze flicked over Heider and the corporal beside him. I exhaled. I almost made it. Heider reached out and touched my cheek. "You are breaking curfew, schwele. Again. You are not very smart." Heider unbuckled his belt. "On your knees," he ordered. "That American General is not here now. " No, I can't ruddy do this. Not again. I felt my knees shake. Heider reached out and grabbed my hair. My knees hit the cobbles so hard, I felt the bruises already forming. Heider yanked my head forward. I gasped, smelling the wet wool and leather of Heider's uniform. "Good boy," Heider said. "You know what to do."

I felt my shaking knees spread throughout my entire body. I knew what would happen next and I also knew the corporal beside Heider would take his turn as well. A snapshot of Rob on his knees flashed through my mind and I felt shame. He never would have submitted to this. What have I become?

I then felt my knife resting on my back.

I didn't know how I got the knife in my hand, only the widening of Heider's eyes as I rammed the knife into his stomach. Blood drenched my hand and the smell of copper filled my nostrils as I lunged to my feet, twisted the knife and then yanked it out, ripping up as I did so. I spun and sank the blade in the corporal's neck, ignoring the geyser of blood. He fell with a dull thud and I turned immediately back to Heider, who sank slowly to the ground, black gloved fingers clenching his stomach. Thick gouts of blood spilled over the leather. I looked him over and realized there was no hope of him surviving.

A nearby thump and I turned to see another German falling to the cobbles. Dark blood banded his neck. I looked around frantically. Gilroy suddenly appeared with his two bully boys, a garrotte in his hand. "Gilroy?" I blurted.

"Bloody fine mess 'ere." Gilroy gave Heider a hard kick as the German scrabbled in agony. "Filthy Kraut."

"But why..." I stammered.

"I hate Krauts, I hate Heider, and besides, it was nice to see someone give these bastards what they deserve. But now what? My men can hide the bodies. I can always use the guns."

I glanced at the corpses and hastily frisked the men. I pulled out the papers and wallets, shoved Heider's sidearm in my pocket and nodded to Gilroy. The men dragged off the bodies. "Thanks."

"You're wel-"

We both twisted as the distant thunder of trucks hit our ears. We looked at each other. "It's too early," Gilroy whispered, horror in his eyes. I saw the nose of the lead truck appear in the street.

"They're coming," I replied. "We have to warn the others..."

I headed for the Ghetto, Gilroy behind me.

On the rooftops we both stopped, looked at the trucks. "There's too many," Gilroy muttered. "What the 'ell...?"

I began shaking. "It'll be a massive cull," I said. "Rob. Oh, god, Rob." Gilroy grabbed me.

"We have some time," he said. "I'll warn the women. You warn your side."

"Got it."

I took off running.