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304 pages, Paperback
First published January 1, 1978
"He had no idea what was in it for him on that cold Stockholm day. Had he known, or even guessed, that he was about to become involved in events that were to give him first a dream of wealth, and then, in bewildering succession, a series of experiences that were to terrify him, to put him more than once in danger of his life, and ultimately make him seek to vanish forever, he would have driven the little Opel as fast as he could in the direction of Lapland."
"Lying there, after Skorzeny's departure, staring at the ceiling's flaking paint, Franz Rasch made a decision of sorts. He would withdraw from the war. Any chance that was offered to him, he would take. Any chance at all. Not that chances were likely to be offered, but that wasn't the point. That he should have thought in that way when the future so clearly held no new opportunities for men like him was, in a strange way, prophetic."
"Rasch's scalp prickled with distrust. There was too much here, too much that appealed to him. It was all being presented to him as a sudden inspiration, but these were clever men and the scheme could have been - probably had been calculated to appeal to a man who wanted what was being offered: a man who wanted money, wanted action, wanted to fight his own way into his own future."
"Somehow, as he sat, a change took place and the confusions that had ravaged his mind seemed all at once to fall away, to be replaced with a sudden, driving certainty of purpose. For weeks the future had seemed to be merely a blur of warring needs. He had ached for revenge, yet had wanted, too, to spend his life on a small country estate as was his birth right, and allowed himself to think that in Spain it might be achieved. Now he saw clearly how unthinkable it would be to drift away, to seek peace in vineyards. He had wanted to cut free from the years and forget them; now he knew it was impossible - the years were part of him. To escape into the future without revenge would be no escape at all."