THE cold night air seemed to seep through the grand foyer, wrapping itself around Oswald like a chilling reminder that for the third time tonight, his guards had failed him. He stood there, statuesque, the only thing moving was the slight twitch of his jaw as his eyes swept over the exhausted, tense men standing in front of him. His hands were clasped behind his back, fingers digging into each other so tightly he could feel his own pulse.

They dared not speak, no one did when Oswald was silent. The hum of the security lights outside filled the stillness, casting stark shadows across the marble floors and the stone-cold...