Two-Six-B. Tbree-Five-Y. Five-One-C.
There were no personal histories, no individual backgrounds
. no references to wives, children, fathers, mothers ... no countries;
cities, hometowns, schools, universities; there were only bodies and minds
and separate, specific, reacting intelligences.
The lQcation was deep in the Virginia hunt country, 220 acres of fields and
hills and mountain streams. There were sections of dense forest bordering
stretches of fiat grasslands. Swamps - dangerous with body-sucking earth
and hostile inhabitants, reptile and insect - were but feet from sudden
masses of Virginia boulders fronting abrupt inclines.
The area had been selected with care, with precision. It was bordered by a
fifteen-foot-high hurricane fence through which a paralyzing - not lethal
- electrical current flowed continuously; and every twelve feet there was
a forbidding sign that warned observers that this particular section of the
land . . . forest, swamp, grassland and hill ... was the exclusive property
of the United States government. Trespassers were duly informed that entry
was not only prohibited, it was exceedingly dangerous. Titles and sections
of the specific laws pertaining to the exclusivity were spelled out along
with the voltage in the fence.
The terrain was as diverse as could be found within a reasonable distance
from Washington. In one way or another - one place or another - it
conformed remarkably to the topography of the locations projected for those
training inside the enormous compound.
The num followed by the letters.
22
No names.
There was a single gate at the center of the north perimeter, reached by a
back country road. Over the gate, between the opposing guard houses, was a
metal sign. In block letters it read: FELD DrVISION HEADQUARTERS - FAIRFAX.
No other description was given, no purpose identified.
On the front of each guard house were identical signs, duplicates of the
warnings placed every twelve feet in the fence, proclaiming the
exclusivity, the laws and the voltage.
No room for error.
David Spaulding was assigned an identity - his Fairfax identity. He was
Two-Five-L.
No name. Only a number followed by a letter.
7Wo - Five - L.
Translation: his training was to be completed by the fifth day of the
second month. His destination: Lisbon.
It was incredible. In the space of four months a new way of life - of
living - was to be absorbed with such totality that it strained acceptance.
'You probably won't make it,' said Colonel Edmund Pace.
'I'm not sure I want to,' had been Spaulding's reply.
But part of the training was motivation. Deep, solid, ingrained beyond
doubt ... but not beyond the psychological reality as perceived by the
candidate.
With Two-Five-L, the United States government did not wave flags and roar
espousiMs of patriotic causes. Such methods would not be meaningful; the
candidate had spent his formative years outside the country in a
sophisticated, international environment. He spoke the language of the
enemy-to-be; he knew them as people - taxi drivers, grocers, bankers,
lawyers - and the vast majority of those he knew were not the Germans
fictionalized by the propaganda machines. Instead - and this was Fairfax's
legitimate hook - they were goddamned fools being led by psychopathic
criminals. The leaders were, indeed, fanatics, and the overwhelming
evidence clearly established their crimes beyond doubt. Those crimes
included wanton, indiscriminate murder, torture and genocide.
Beyond doubt.
Criminals.
Psychopaths.
23
Too, there was Adolf Hitler.
Adolf Hitler killed Jews. By the thousands - soon to be millions if his
final solutions were read accurately.
Aaron Mandel was a Jew. His other 'father' was a Jew; the 'father' he loved
more than the parent. And the goddamned fools tolerated an exclamation
point after the word Juden!
David Spaulding could bring himself to hate the goddarnned fools - the taxi
drivers, the grocers, the bankers, the lawyers -without much compunction
under the circumstances.
Beyond this very rational approach, Fairfax utilized a secondary
psychological 'weapon' that was standard in the compound; for some more
than others, but it was never absent.
The trainees at Fairfax had a common gift - or flaw - depending on one's
approach. None was accepted without it.
A highly developed sense of competition; a thrust to win.
There was no question about it; arrogance was not a despised commodity at
Fairfax.
I With David Spaulding's psychological profile - a dossier increasingly
accepted by the Intelligence Division - the Fairfax commanders recognized
that the candidate-in-training for Lisbon had a soft core which the field
might harden - undoubtedly would harden if he lived that long - but whatever
advances could be made in the compound, so much the better. Especially for
the subject.
Spaulding was confident, independent, extremely versatile in his
surroundings ... all to the very good; but Two-Five-L had a weakness. There
was within his psyche a slowness to take immediate advantage, a hesitancy
to spring to the kill when the odds were his. Both verbally and physically.
Colonel Edmund Pace saw this inadequacy by the third week of training.
Two-Five-L's abstract code of fairness would never do in Lisbon. And
Colonel Pace knew the answer.
The mental adjustment would be made through the physical processes.
'Seizures, Holds and Releases' was the insipid tide of the course. It
disguised the most arduous physical training at Fairfax: hand-to-hand
combat. Knife, chain, wire, needle, rope, fingers, knees, elbows ... never
a gun.
Reaction, reaction, reaction.
Except when one initiated the assault.
24
Two-Five-L had progressed nicely. He was a large man but possessed the
quick coordination usually associated with a more compact person. Therefore
his progress had to be stymied; the man himself humiliated. He would learn
the practical advantages of the odds.
From smaller, more arrogant men.
Colonel Edmund Pace 'borrowed' from the British commando units the best
they had in uniform. They were flown over by the Bomber Ferry Command;
three bewildered 'specialists' who were subtly introduced to the Fairfax
compound and given their instructions.
'Kick the shit out of Two-Five-L.'
They did. For many weeks of sessions.
And then they could not do so with impunity any longer.
David Spaulding would not accept the humiliation; he was becon-dng as good
as the 'specialists.'
The man for Lisbon was progressing.
Colonel Edmund Pace received the reports in his War Department office.
Everything was on schedule.
The weeks became months. Every known portable offensive and defensive
weapon, every sabotage device, every conceivable method of ingress and
egress - apparent and covert - was exhaustive
ly studied by the Fairfax
trainees. Codes and variations became fluent languages; instant
fabrications second nature. And Two-Five-L continued to advance. Whenever
there appeared a slackening, harsher instructions were given to the
'specialists' in 'Seizures, Holds and Releases! The psychological key was
in the observable, physical humiliation.
Until it was no longer viable. The commandos were bested.
Everything on schedule.
'You may make it after all,' said the colonel.
'I'm not sure what I've made,' replied David in his first lieutenant's
uniform, over a drink in the Mayflower Cocktail Lounge. And then he laughed
quietly. 'I suppose if they gave degrees in Advanced Criminal Activities,
I'd probably qualify!
Two-Five-L's training would be completed in ten days. His twenty-four-hour
pass was an irregularity, but Pace had demanded it. He had to talk with
Spaulding.
'Does it bother youT asked Pace.
25
Spaulding looked across the small table at the colonel. 'If I had time to
think about it, I'm sure it would. Doesn't it bother you?' 'No ...
Because I understand the reasons.' 'O.K. Then so do V 'They'll become
clearer in the field.' 'Sure,' agreed David tersely. Pace watched
Spaulding closely. As was to be expected, the young man had changed. Gone
was the slightly soft, slightly pampered grace of inflection and gesture.
These had been replaced by a tautness, a conciseness of movement and
speech. The transformation was not complete, but it was well in progress.
The patina of the professional was beginning to show through. Lisbon
would harden it further.
4"k
Lre you impressed by the fact that Fairfax skips you a rank? It took me
eighteen months to get that silver bar.'
'Again, time. I haven't had time to react. I haven't worn a uniform before
today; I think it's uncomfortable! Spaulding flicked his hand over his
tunic.
'Good. Don't get used to it.'
:That's a strange thing to say . .
How do you feeff said Pace, interrupting.
David looked at the colonel. For a moment or two, the grace, the softness
- even the wry humor - returned. 'I'm not sure. ... As though I'd been
manufactured on a very fast assembly line. A sort of high-speed treadmill,
if you know what I mean.'
,in some ways that's an accurate description. Except that you brought a lot
to the factory!
Spaulding revolved his glass slowly. He stared at the floating cubes, then
up at Pace. 'I wish I could accept that as a compliment,' he said softly.
'I don't think I can. I know the people l9ve been training with. They're
quite a collection!
'They're highly motivated!
'The Europeans are as crazy as those they want to fight. They've got their
reasons; I can't question them. . . .'
'Well,' interrupted the colonel, 'we don't have that many Americans. Not
yet.'
'Those you do are two steps from a penitentiary!
'They're not army.'
'I didn't know that,' said Spaulding quickly, adding the obvious with a
srm*le. 'Naturally.'
Pace was annoyed with himself. The indiscretion was minor
26
but still an indiscretion. 'It's not important. In ten days you'll be
finished in Virginia. The uniform comes off then. To tell you the truth, it
was a mistake to issue you one in the first place. We're still new at this
kind of thing; rules of requisition and supply are hard to change.' Pace
drank and avoided Spaulding's eyes.
'I thought I was supposed to be a military attach6 at the embassy. One of
several.'
'For the record, yes. They'll build a file on you. But there's a
difference; it's part of the cover. You're not partial to uniforms. We
don't think you should wear one. Ever.' Pace put down his glass and looked
at David. 'You hustled yourself a very safe, very comfortable job because
of the languages, your residences and your family connections. In a
nutshell, you ran as fast as you could when you thought there was a chance
your pretty neck might be in the real army.'
Spaulding thought for a moment. 'That sounds logical. Why does it bother
youT
'Because only one man at the embassy will know the truth. He'll identify
himself... After a while others may suspect -after a long while. But they
won't know. Not the ambassador, not the staff... What I'm trying to tell
you is, you won't be very popular.'
David laughed quietly. 'I trust you'll rotate me before I'm lynched.'
Pace's reply was swift and quiet, almost curt. 'Others will be rotated. Not
you.'
Spaulding was silent as he responded to the colonel's look. 'I don't
understand.'
'I'm not sure I can be clear about it.' Pace put down his drink on the
small cocktail table. 'You'll have to start slowly, with extreme caution.
British MI-5 has given us a few names - not many but something to start
with. You'll have to build up your own network, however. People who will
maintain contact only with you, no one else. This will entail a great deal
of traveling. We think you'll gravitate to the north country, across the
borders into Spain. Basque country ... by and large anti-Falangist. We
think those areas south of the Pyrenees will become the data and escape
routes. . . . We're not kidding ourselves: the Maginot won't hold. France
will fall. . . . '
'Jesus,' interrupted David softly. 'You've done a lot of projecting.'
27
'That's almost all we do. It's the reason for Fairfax.'
Spaulding leaned back in the chair, once more revolving his glass. 'I
understand about the network; in one form or another it's what the
compound's training all of us for. This is the first I've heard about the
north of Spain, the Basque areas. I know that country.'
'We could be wrong. It's only a theory. You might find the water routes .
. . Mediterranean, Milaga, or Biscay, or the Portuguese coast ... more
feasible. That's you for to decide. And develop.'
'All right. I understand. . . . What's that got to do with rotation?'
Pace smiled. 'You haven't reached your post. Are you angling for a leave
already?'
'You brought it up. Sort of abruptly, I think.'
'Yes, I did.' The colonel shifted his position in the small chair.
Spaulding was very quick; he locked in on words and used brief time spans
to maximize their effectiveness. He would be good in interrogations. Quick,
harsh inquiries. In the field. 'We've decided that you're to remain in
Portugal for the duration. Whatever normal and "abnormal" leaves you take
should be spent in the south. There's a string of colonies along the coast.
Costa del Santiago among them,' interjected Spaulding under his breath.
'Retreats for the international rich.'
'That's right. Develop covers down there. Be seen with your parents. Become
a fixture.' Pace smiled again; the smile was hesitant. 'I could think of
worse duty.'
'You don't know those colonies.... If I read you - as we say in Fairfax -
Candidate Two-Five-L had better take a good, hard look at
the streets of
Washington and New York because he's not going to see them again for a very
long time.'
'We can't risk bringing you back once you've developed a network, assuming
you do develop one. If, for whatever reason, you flew out of Lisbon to
Allied territory, there'd be an enemy scramble to microscopically trace
every movement you made for months. It would jeopardize everything. You're
safest - our interests are safest - if you remain permanent. The British
taught us this. Some of their operatives have been local fixtures for
years.'
'That's not very comforting.'
'You're not in MI-5. Your tour is for the duration. The war
28
won't last forever.'
It was Spaulding's turn to smile; the smile of a man caught in a matrix
he had not defined. 'There's something insane about
that statement The war won't last forever
6Why?'
'We're not in it yet.'
'You are,' Pace said.
29
Two
SEPTEMBER 8,1943
PEENEMUNDE, GERMANY
The man in the pinstriped suit, styled by tailors in Alte Strasse, stared
in disbelief at the three men across the table. He would have objected
strenuously had the three laboratory experts not wom the square, red, metal
insignias on the lapels of their starched white laboratory jackets, badges
that said these three scientists were permitted to walk through passageways
forbidden to all but the elite of PeenemUnde. He, too, had such a badge
attached to his pinstriped lapel; it was a temporary clearance he was not
sure he wanted.
Certainly he did not want it now.
'I can't accept your evaluation,' he said quietly. 'It's preposterous.'
'Come with us,' replied the scientist in the center, nodding to his
companion on the right.
'There's no point procrastinating,' added the third man.
The four men got out of their chairs and approached the steel door that was
the single entrance to the room. Each man in succession unclipped his red
badge and pressed it against a grey plate in the wall. At the instant of
contact, a small white bulb was lighted, remained so for two seconds and
then went off,~ a photograph had been taken. The last man - one of the
Peenemiinde personnel - then opened the door and each went into the hall-
Robert Ludlum - Rhineman Exchange.txt Page 3
