Sacramento — Pacific Resistance Safehouse
A thin gray mist draped Sacramento as Leo and Sarah arrived at the clandestine Resistance outpost. Inside a half-derelict warehouse, a firepit crackled in the center, illuminating the gathered faces, including Clarence "Hawk" Henderson, their Black Resistance commander. In the distant shadows, the guttural shouts of Kempeitai troops in Japanese khaki rose and fell—raiding neighborhoods, terrorizing citizens.
Hawk stared into the flames as he spoke, voice low and sure:
"The Kempeitai here don't just occupy—they assume guilt. Brutality is their daily tool. Beatings. Arrests. Curfews. Anyone can vanish. That's why we requested weapons from the East Coast."
He pointed out the battered skyline. "Another thing—they pulled out units from the 24th Japanese Army. Either they're overconfident, or they're planning something big in San Francisco."
Sarah's eyes narrowed. "What are you asking?"
Hawk leaned in. "We need intel on the Nipplin Building. If we can't break in—we need someone inside."
"Why Sarah?" Leo asked, skeptical.
Sarah glanced at him. "Definition time?"
Hawk nodded. "Nipplin Building: the largest remaining Kempeitai headquarters in the JPS. Army Division leaders, Trade Ministry, Foreign Liaison offices—it's the nerve center. Entry means control."
Leo inhaled sharply. "You're talking about suicide."
"There's… a way." Hawk pressed a sealed slip into Sarah's hand. "We've arranged for you—a woman—to apply for a junior secretary role in the Trade Ministry. Token job. But we'll have a handler on the inside, and that handler will send intel. Contacts, schedules, suspicious orders."
Sarah stared at the paper. Then nodded. "I'll do it."
Nipplin Building — Sugiyama's Surveillance
Back at the headquarters, Chief Inspector Hajime Sugiyama reviewed dossiers in his office—Sarah Lin, Jack Hutto. Trainable absences, spotty attendance, unexplained trips. Jack's record was clean—aside from his Jewish lineage. The Reich alliance demanded purity. That alone raised alarm.
As he prepared to press the red stamp ordering arrest, Sugiyama hesitated.
Instead, he stood up and went in person to their apartment, watching from his car when a Kempeitai officer knocked. Jack answered. The officer said Sarah was at work. Jack lied. Sugiyama watched the officer confirm the lie before driving off.
He turned on a recorder. "She's missing five shifts in the last ten days. He covers her. They're hiding something—and he's Jewish. Keep tabs for now."
Back to the Road — Return to San Francisco
Leo steered the truck back toward the coast. "We'll find a place once you're inside," he said, glancing at Sarah.
"I'll make it happen," she replied quietly.
Ramifications in the Apartment
Later that evening, Lilith had packed and left. While Jack slept, the Kempeitai moved fast. Riot gear, tear gas—they smashed through the apartment door. No warnings.
Jack woke to masked soldiers pinning him down, dragging him into the van.
An hour later, he was thrown into a cold interrogation room at Nipplin HQ. Sugiyama entered solemnly, removed Jack's blindfold, and laid out the file.
"Jack Hutto. Married to Sarah Lin. Missing."
"Leslie Hutto, 37—wife of Mark Lampie, three children."
Jack's forehead went cold. "My mother and siblings?"
"They think they're awaiting transport. Until vent suppression begins." Sugiyama leaned in. "In our systems, Jewish families in occupied zone are liabilities—even if your wife is 'operative.'"
Leslie sat in a waiting room with her children unaware—ventilation hissed. She realized too late.
Jack begged for their lives. Sugiyama un-cuffed him.
"You're free to go," he said quietly.
Jack collapsed with relief, then shook with horror. "Wait—my sister? My nieces? My nephews?"
Sugiyama adjusted his glasses and left the room. Outside, soldiers twisted Jack's arms and escorted him back to the street.
He stumbled home, every step heavier, until he collapsed in the wreckage of what had once been a home.
Sarah Returns
That night Sarah returned—Leo dropped her at the wrecked apartment. She found Jack sitting in the ruins, covered in blood and tears.
"They came for me. Tore everything apart. Beat me. Then they killed my family," Jack choked out, hating the clarity that came with grief.
Sarah fell to her knees, pulling him close. "I'm so sorry…"
His sobs echoed in the empty rooms.
Berlin — Lucy's New Reality
Far away in Berlin, Lucy Highmen's role blossomed under Imel's unseen guidance. She now handled encrypted correspondence, made provisional resistance lists, and drew up memos destined for Pacific theaters. Her accuracy and discretion had risen to the level of trust.
But Bertha, Imel's wife, watched her every move. Lucy's access—her late hours, the SS aide's subtle recognitions—didn't surprise Bertha, but it unnerved her. Jealousy, suspicion—sharp as knives.
She didn't know the full story yet, but she knew Lucy wasn't ordinary.