She looked up at me and raised an eyebrow."You're a rebel," she said. It was not a question, but I nodded."My husband was not. Didn't hold with war at...all, with killing."I told her my name and she said hers was Fran. "Francine actually," she said with a small laugh. "My mother rather favored the French. A Huguenot her father or grandfather was, I've forgotten which."We stood awkwardly in her back room. The house was quiet, and I assumed we were alone. She might have been twenty-five, perhaps. To enter the area, we passed through a security gate where Hein’s name was checked against the prepared list. The house itself had ten cars in front and by the light showing behind us, I gathered there were cars following us to the house.The night was cool so I wore a silver colored shawl over my shoulders, which Hein removed for me upon entering the house and handing to an attendant waiting there. The entry area emptied into a large gathering room to the left and down two steps. Several heads. More

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