When he heard the knocking, Raymond Fosberg froze. He was all alone in a strange city, and he knew

exactly who was at the door.

The Germans.

Fosberg was a plant scientist, and a few months earlier

he'd been sent down to South America

on one of the most top secret missions of World War II,

to hunt down an anti-malaria drug called quinine.

Quinine comes from the bark of some rare trees in South America, and the entire war in the Pacific hinged on his completing this mission. But one night in 1944, he was staying in a flea bag hotel in rural Columbia, a dirty rundown place with thin walls.

He could in fact hear people talking in the room beneath him. This was merely annoying at least.

This was merely annoying at first until he stopped and listened a little closer.

I've had me to the early urns from one-martialed wind.

The Lama Roosevelt and Sreta Churchill. To his horror

horror he realized they were speaking German.

What the hell were Germans doing in rural Colombia.

He tried to stay calm.

It had to be a coincidence.

They couldn't possibly have followed him there, right?

He told himself he was being paranoid.

But later that night, he heard a pounding at his door.

He opened it to find two Nazi agents standing there.

Raymond Fosberg, they said, we have been following you for weeks. They know who you are, and we know what you're doing here.

Fosberg was trapped. Even if he fled, these two spies would surely run him down and kill him.

...