The chair at the head of the table wobbled slightly as it turned, causing Jenkins to aim his weapon at it. The chair rotated slowly until its occupant faced the doorway. Jenkins’s jaw dropped when he saw the withered face and drooping eyelids. His gaze flashed to the portrait above and back down to the occupant of the seat. He looked aged, saggy, and sickly, but the same dominating gaze blazed from both portrait and person alike—Adolf Hitler, leader of the defeated Third Reich and war criminal.
“That’ll be enough,” an American accent said from behind the door.
To Jenkins’s surprise, a man in a black suit and slicked-back hair stepped directly in front of him, blocking his view of the Nazi Führer.
Major Wellesley, Sergeant McCabe, and a dozen MEF soldiers reached Jenkins’s location and l
