March 15, 1940; near Lodz, Poland

A bleak order has descended over Poland following the chaos of September 1939 when the Third Reich and, subsequently, the Soviet Union invaded from Western and Eastern fronts respectively, dividing the country in two in accordance with the Molotov-Ribbentrop Pact.

Refugees from destroyed cities, towns and villages roam the countryside in search of some means to continue their lives. Polish prisoners of war are transported like cattle to makeshift containment camps. Many are being sent by train, ominously, out of the country and into the East.

A black bird wings its way over a battered town near the new Germano-Soviet border, turning toward a murder of ravens gathered at a cross roads, next to a burned out road house. The birds pick at two bodies lying face down in the early morning mist. A crunch from the side of the road makes them twitchy and some take flight.

In the undergrowth of a low hill three figures watch the scene and survey the surrounding countryside. Andrei turns to his commander in the Polish resistance. "Who do you think they are?"

Fredrik replies, "they could be some of us, or just travellers. The Nazi bastards show no mercy." He pauses, "it looks safe enough, we best see who they are and, if possible, give them a decent burial." He is a good man, tired but not yet beaten by the cruel world in which he lives.

They crawl out from hiding. The third figure is a young man, no more than seventeen. Andrei only met him this morning but can see many familiar traits: a deep anger at being subject to oppression, eager to do whatever is within his power to push back the tide of Nazi aggression.

The ravens disperse with irritated squawks.

The bodies belong to two men, an older and a younger, perhaps father and son, dressed simply in clothes for the road. They have both been shot in the back. Andrei follows a line if sight to the road house and catches a glimpse of something in a top window. "Take cover!" he shouts as a rifle shot rings in the still air.

A board from the window is pushed aside and a machine gun position is revealed. Andrei dives behind a discarded cart loaded with hay. It is the closest safety. The young man follows but Fredrik falls as several bullets rip into his body. The controlled burst of fire ends.

Andrei steadies his rifle and takes quick aim at the window firing several shots but, in panic, the young man makes a run for the roadway. Momentarily the ambushers are distracted by the fleeing boy and Andrei has the opportunity to drag his friend behind the cart. He is coughing and a ghostly shade of grey.

"Andrei, fight well. Tell Yulia I love her. Take this," the older man forces a crumpled piece of paper into Andrei's hand. "It is a message from the Coordinator. A team from Britain is to jump in two days from now. Near Chelm. We are the closest unit. Find them and be their guide. God willing it is preparation for a counter offensive. The British might be good to their word yet!"

Andrei, holds his friend as the life seeps away. Another round of machine gun fire roars and he looks in time to see the boy, he doesn't even know his name, fall. The situation is desperate. As a diversion he puts a match to the dry hay in the cart and it quickly ignites, billowing smoke.

He grips his rifle tightly and launches for the undergrowth as bullets pepper the ground beside him. A grenade is thrown from the house and the cart disintegrates in a shower of burning splinters and hay.

Once safely undercover Andrei escapes. He has not been in this part of Poland long, but coming to know your surroundings is essential for staying alive.

Back at the crossroads two men step from the house and casually inspect the fallen. In the background is a small spectacled man and a lanky figure with cold eyes; blood covers his pale hands. They are all well uniformed, a small tattoo barely visible between thumb and forefinger of a prominent H and dual lightning insignia of the SS. Each proudly bears a field-of-red armband and black-on-white swastika; the sign of the Crooked Cross.

In almost pitch blackness an unassuming military plane makes its way from the North across Poland using thick cloud for cover. Following take off from Denmark the occupants in the rudimentary hold made themselves as comfortable as possible; it was noisy and vaguely smelled of aviation fuel. The team, on their way to their first mission, had minimal introduction following a briefing from Colonel Harrison Smythe.

"Captain Frost and I have discussed each of your reasons for being here. He is confident that you will make a good, if unorthodox, unit. There are two main objectives: the first is a very real expression of goodwill toward the Government-in-exile for Poland. The president, Mr Raczkiwicz, has a son in the military that was captured during a retreat from Chelm in the, now Soviet controlled, East of Poland. He is an officer, similar in age to Lieutenant Wordsworth here. The son, Wotek, is believed to be held in a makeshift prison camp in a forest outside of the city. The Resistance movement in Poland has only provided sketchy details. You need to make contact with them and plan a rescue.

"The second objective is coincidental but potentially more important for British interests. We know that researchers in the Polish military have made advances in decrypting a new German code system. One of the leading scientists was also captured during the fall of Chelm. He may know the location of research documents, but even without documentation his knowledge is highly valuable. The Soviets seem to be distrustful of anyone with an education and so this man, Aldon Levinski, has also found his way into the same camp. This in itself is a worry. It is possible that these men may soon be moved to a more secure location once it is decided what to do with them.

Ideally we do not wish to risk an incident with Soviet authorities in the area as we are not at war with them. The USSR's action of annexing Poland was, so their story goes, to protect their Western border and ethnic Russians therein. It all seems very convenient."

First Lieutenant James Wordsworth is understandably nervous. He is here is learn, and keep a cool head. Captain Frost seems to be a solid sort, born to lead with a natural authority. His two hand chosen soldiers Rhys Jones an David Smith look dependable. A Polish-born radio operator, Jachowitz, has been a pleasant companion. Wordsworth has had an opportunity to practice his Russian and learn some Polish.

It is unclear as to what the American is doing here. According to the Colonel's brief introduction he is a career War-man, serving in Nicaragua and, most recently, Spain. Wordsworth has no doubt that Mark Hunter is a mercenary by any civilised definition but, it must be admitted, he looks like he can handle himself. James would prefer not to be on the wrong side of a bayonet with this man.

A red light flashes and Captain Frost stands, pulling down his goggles. They all follow suit. However, suddenly the plane rocks at some turbulence and the hold is lit up by a flak explosion. The plane has been spotted over Soviet occupied Poland. "Trial by fire, Lieutenant!" Hunter yells as they hustle toward the doorway. Without any hesitation the Captain leads the way.

It is a static line so all chutes open within a few seconds of leaving the plane. Ground artillery continues to light up the night sky. The men are spread out and Wordsworth fears he is drifting toward a stand of trees below. In seconds it is too late to master steering of the primitive contraption and he hurtles into the canopy, crashing through branches.

Meanwhile, troops have been scrambled and Jachowitz, isolated, hears bullets whizzing past from several directions. He feels a thud in his back and hits the ground, tearing off his chute and radio. Noticing the metal box is punctured and now useless he realises he is now a radio operator without a radio. A machine gun opens up and Jachowitz dives for a rock, narrowly escaping being hit. He checks his weapon and begins to return sporadic fire. A few rifle shots crack out from one side and Jachowitz can see Hunter taking aim and dispatching the men pinning him down. His control of the situation is clinical.

Frost and his two men quickly locate and free Wordsworth from his treetop prison. It takes a few more minutes for the unit to form and work out their position in the darkness. Luckily it seems the small compliment of soldiers sent to find them has swept by.

The barn was damp and cold. Dragomir stands outside in the gloom and lights a cigarette. No sooner has he inhaled than a click from the darkness makes him flinch and attempt to retrieve his weapon. A soldier emerges from the shadows aiming a rifle.

"The skies over London are clear this time of year," Jachowitz says in Polish.

"Warsaw is a burnt-out wreck," Dragomir responds, not following the coded note given to him by his dead friend. Jachowitz looks puzzled. Then the gypsy continues, "But the pigeons still crap in Trafalgar Square."

Scene 4

Hiding out in town. Obtaining information. Avoiding capture. Getting to know Polish Resistance, including Mikael Wiberg, (Dan's character) a young man who acts as a go-to man for this unit and knows all the friendly fighters in the nearby town.

Map of Ludlin. Forming a plan. Find that prisoners are to be moved out, possibly to Russia to more secure POW camps.

Captain's private brief. He needs to ask about the Soviet Commander in the area. Sergey Kalapov with a view to assassinating him. His instructions come from The First Lord of The Admiralty, Churchill, who is positioning himself to be appointed Prime Minister. Churchill is also deeply suspicious of intelligence reports that Hitler is investigating paranormal means to aid him in prosecution of the War.

Scene 5

Approaching prison camp. Night time. Guard dogs of course. But the camp was relatively hastily erected around a large farmhouse. Barbed wire fences do not extend below the earth so it is possible to dig under the outer fence in the gloom.

The captain takes some time with Hunter to explain the importance of assassinating the Commandant, Kalapov

Around the command building they observe dark coated figures. There are three Nazi officers. A Major Hoffmann is there to speak with Kalapov, accompanied by a driver and Sonderkommando.

Hunter leads Wordsworth to investigate an out building, while the Captain and Smith creep into the house. Dragomir, Jones, Wiberg and Jachowitz move to the other side of the camp, hoping to take one of the two guard towers, where they can commandeer a machine gun to oversee the chaos which will inevitably ensue.

Wordsworth and Hunter peer in a window to see Kalapov and the German visiting Major.

Kalapov is a difficult man to describe. His face is unusual yet forgettable. Any attempt to photograph him results in a blurred picture. Which is what alerted British Intelligence to the anomaly, when they were collecting information on important Soviet Figures.

They speak German:

"...is most interested in your hobbies Herr Kalapov."

"How do your masters know of my investigations?"

"It is our business to know about such things. It could be the difference between victory and defeat. The Fuhrer believes it has more merit than Jew science."

The strange man pauses to regard his visitor. "Why are you here, Major?"

"You are quick to get to the point." He casts a glance at a Red Army soldier who Kalapov signals to leave. "I am here because you are a victim of circumstance. Commanded by the Bolshevik scourge. You know you have purer origins. We seek an alliance, to share information and power. We have our own experiments..." In his mind the Major has flashes of images of a Castle, wolves and torture as he explains some of what the SS is involved with. "...many of which are successful... some that need more work. But eventually Herr Himmler will achieve his goals. The Society needs talented men. Men who will stand with us in victory or risk falling out of history in defeat."

Kalapov appears interested. Hoffmann pushes further, "show me what you are doing". The Soviet commander knows he is dealing with more or less an equal and, in this case, ego gets the better of him.

"Very well Major." He moves to the door, speaks some words and, soon after, a struggling prisoner is brought in. Kalapov goes through the formality of reading charges to the condemned man. "You have been found a hardened and uncompromising enemy of Soviet authority. The new Poland has no need for you."

"But they said I would be released!! I am an enemy of no one!"

Major Hoffmann is stoically unemotional but does betray a slight discomfort. The soldier begins to panic. He is young, like James. Kalapov takes out an instrument, a pistol shaped device with a bottle at one end and a protruberance at the other. "I usually give them time to contemplate the terror." He turns to Hoffmann over the screaming, which a soldier attempts to stifle with a rag. "It makes extraction easier and the result more potent."

Without mercy he places the barrel of the device against the base of the man's neck and pulls a trigger. A hiss of pneumatics fires a pin into the head and it shakes violently as a bloodied fluid is sucked into the vial. After it is over the Major comments, "and what do you use it for?"

"Ha. You do not expect to be given all the pieces of the puzzle, Herr Hoffmann?"

"Join the Society then. Once you are a member you will be a full equal with all privileges."

"But I must see through the fear extraction on a greater scale. My plan has already been approved by the Politburo because it has the benefit of subduing continued Polish resistance after this war is over. Whether your Fuhrer or Britain somehow wins, the USSR will maintain control over most of Poland."

"Poland? Your plans are small. Join the Society and the World will fear you."

Kalapov assembles a second capsule as he talks. "It is indeed a tempting offer. But there are more men involved here than just me. We will need to work out the details of that. And, in any event, I wish to see through the plans that are already underway. However, in principle...I accept." He proceeds to slaughter the nervous Red Army soldier left in the room.

Outside, Wordsworth slumps down, his face pale at what he has heard. His understanding of the German language is exemplary. Hunter is much less proficient but the evil intent of what they have witnessed speaks louder than words.

The Captain and his men have swept through the house, silencing the higher ranking officers who are enjoying the warmth of a fire while their men freeze outside, guarding the prisoners.

Most of the procedure has gone smoothly, until they barge into the radio room and surprise a number of officers playing cards. Multiple shots are fired which alerts the Sonderkommando outside.

The noise clearly raises an alarm and knows he must act quickly. He kicks in the door of the small building to be greeted by a downward swipe as he enters. Hoffmann makes a swift exit and begins running the short distance to his car where the driver is revving, ready for getaway. Captain Frost bursts through the front door and over the landing, coming face to face with the Nazi officer now near his car. The Major is too quick and his Luger releases a single shot to the stomach. Frost falls and is pushed aside. Hoffmann's car breaks down the gates amidst confused Soviet troops, scrambling to understand what has happened, without their commanding officers to tell them what to do.

In the building Hunter makes a quick recovery in time to hold off the shrieking Kapapov clawing at his face. "Clawing" is most accurate because the Russian's fingers have lengthened to talons, with a face of rage and gnashing teeth. The American must put horror and puzzlement to one side and deal with the immediate threat. They grapple on the floor, slash wounds appearing on Hunter's chest. He fumbles for his dagger, strapped to his left ankle.

Kalapov hisses, "You're just like one of us" and his eyes lock with Hunter. At the same time the creature's face contorts to a rough mirror image of the soldier, transfixed by its gaze. An aeon of venom flashes through his mind. Malevolence incarnate.

Desperately prying his foe away for a moment, the weapon is brought in a wide arc to connect under the chin. "Smile, you hellbastard!" The steel forces up through the roof of Kalapov's mouth, skewering his brain. It continues to struggle until beginning to steam. There is a final roar as it falls still. Hunter wastes no time in throwing off the twisted form. Wordsworth runs to his side, after having been bashed down by Hoffmann, and rooted in terror in the doorway.

At the other end of the camp, Jachowich has set off an explosive charge as a diversion, collapsing half of the makeshift barracks. In the flames he tries to locate the president's son and the professor.

Dragomir has taken the machine gun post and sets to slaughtering a few Soviet troops; those in the open enough to distinguish from the prisoners. The vantage is short lived as a grenade is thrown into the tower. Dragomir, launches over the fence (part of which is also destroyed by charges, and lands remarkably stealthfully.

The Soviet troops, only a dozen or so left alive, are divided and demoralised. In clear danger they flee into the forest with the prisoners but random shots ring out as they protect themselves. Jachowich locates, by frantic questioning, Wotek but no one is able to find the cryptographer.

With the Captain dead, Wordsworth is prompted by Hunter to take command. Smith has appeared from the house to find the dead Captain. Distraught, he takes his dog tags and they disguise the body as a prisoner. Reluctantly they must leave him behind as speed is paramount. In the meantime Hunter has recovered a notebook and the gruesome tool used by Kalapov to murder the prisoner and soldier.

Also, Smith has obtained documents of prisoner movement orders; by train to Smolensk in a week.

The mission is generally in disarray and lost from each other. The forest is a chaos of frantic prisoners and occasional gunshots. Soviet reinforcements begin to arrive from the town and start rounding up any wounded prisoners. The barks of tracker dogs echo into the night.