“No. At the Signal Battalion.”
“Freddy, we have to talk, and Major Wallace can’t know we did, or what we talked about. Either him or Colonel Mattingly.”
“Why do I think I’m not going to like this? Does this have something to do with the NKGB-er Sergeant Tedworth caught at Kloster Grünau?”
“How’d you hear about that?”
“Tedworth told me.”
“He has a big mouth. He should have known better.”
“We trust each other. What about the NKGB-er?”
“We think we turned him.”
“I doubt that. He’s NKGB. They are not known for turning. Being smarter than their captors, yes. Turning, no.”
“I think we have, Freddy.”
“We? Who is we? You and Dunwiddie?”
“And General Gehlen.”
“Gehlen thinks you have turned the NKGB-er?”
“He thinks we have him well on the road to turning, and that when we get him talking to the priest Frade is sending from Argentina, he will turn.”
“What priest? From Argentina?”
“He’s a Jesuit who’s been involved with getting people to Argentina for the Vatican. We’re going to take Orlovsky to Argentina.”
“What I think you should do is start from the beginning,” Hessinger said. “The beginning is when you were in trouble with Mattingly because you stuck your nose into Gehlen’s interrogation of the Russian.”
“A lot’s happened since then.”
“That’s why you should start from the beginning,” Hessinger said reasonably.
“Okay. I guess the most important thing is that Mattingly is no longer in charge of Operation Ost. Frade is . . .”
—
“. . . and so,” Cronley concluded, “as soon as Frade took off for the States, I came here. After, of course, trying to confuse the FBI about my destination. Further deponent sayeth not.”
Hessinger grunted thoughtfully.
“Freddy . . .” Cronley began.
“The one maybe big problem I see,” Hessinger interrupted him, “is getting the NKGB-er through the airport in Frankfurt. If we get caught loading him on an Argentine airliner . . .” He stopped, then asked, “Why are you looking at me funny?”
“I was about to ask, ‘Now that you know what’s going on, will you help?’ You sound as if you’re already enlisted.”
“I think of it more as being drafted one more time. I didn’t enlist in the Army, I was drafted. And I have no more choice here than when I got that Your friends and neighbors have selected you postcard from my draft board.”
Cronley chuckled.
“You want to explain that?”
“Is necessary?”
“Yeah, I think so, Freddy.”
“Okay. When I got my draft notice, I started researching the Army.”
“You did what?”
“I wanted to learn what I could expect. So I went to the library—”
“And got a book?” Cronley said, chuckling. “What to Expect When You’re Drafted?”
“Not a book. Books plural. About military ethics.”
“There ain’t no such animal.”
“Yes, there is. A good officer has dual loyalty.”
“What the hell does that mean?”
“Up and down. A good officer is loyal to his superiors and his subordinates. They taught you about this when you went to that Texas military school, right?”
“It was mentioned once or twice. So what?”
“It didn’t take me long to figure out Mattingly. His is only up.”
“Excuse me?”
“His loyalty is upward only. People under him are expendable.”
“That’s true, but so what?”
“So I knew it was only a matter of time until he expended me.”
“Okay.”
“Then you showed up. And I saw that yours is both ways.”
“How do you know?”
“If yours was only upward, to Mattingly, you would have kept your nose to yourself and let him get away with what he was trying to do to Dunwiddie. Get Dunwiddie to shoot the NKGB-er and him know nothing about it. You didn’t. You were loyal downwards. If you’re at the bottom, like I am here, loyalty downwards is very important.”
“Well, then, welcome to our little conspiracy, Freddy.”
“Like I said, I see only one maybe big problem. Getting the NKGB-er onto the Argentine airplane. We’ll have to think about that.”
“Why don’t we find a quiet corner of the dining room and think about it there? While I’m eating. The only thing I’ve had to eat all day is a bacon-and-egg sandwich.”
“Because you are going to call Mrs. Colonel Schumann and ask her what you can do for her. Probably dinner.”
“I’d rather not.”
“I’d rather not be here. I would rather be back at Harvard chasing Wellesley girls and working on my doctorate. But I am here.”
“Then you take her to dinner.”
“She doesn’t want to have dinner with me. I’m an enlisted man. Besides, what we are trying to do is important. And you know you can’t afford to have Mrs. Colonel Schumann pissed at you.”
He picked up the elaborate old-fashioned telephone on his desk.
“Kindly connect me with Mrs. Lieutenant Colonel Schumann,” he ordered.
“Maybe she’s not there,” Cronley said after a moment. “Maybe she got tired of waiting for me.”
“Good afternoon, Mrs. Schumann. This is Special Agent Hessinger. I have found Captain Cronley for you. One moment, please.”
He put his hand over the microphone, said, “Be charming,” then extended the receiver to Cronley.
“Good afternoon, Mrs. Schumann. This is Captain Cronley. How are you? Special Agent Hessinger tells me you’re all alone in Munich.”
“The colonel had to go to Vienna,” Rachel said.
“So Hessinger told me. I was wondering if you’re free for dinner.”
“As a matter of fact, yes, Captain Cronley, I am.”
“When would you like me to call for you?”
“Actually, I’d be open to an invitation for cocktails, too.”
“You mean right now?”
“Could you fit me into your busy schedule?”
“With pleasure. The thing is, I’ve been flying just about all day . . .”
“Flying? Where?”
“. . . and I need a shower and a fresh uniform. Could you meet me in the bar in, say, thirty minutes?”
“I’ll be waiting. Thank you so much, Captain Cronley.”
“Yes, ma’am.”
Cronley stood and put the receiver back in its cradle.
“How’d I do?”
“You’re no Cary Grant, more like Humphrey Bogart. Anyway, all you have to do is keep her happy.”
“How do I do that?”
“By doing whatever she wants you to do.”
“You going to be here when I’ve fed her?”
“No. I get off at five. It’s now five-fifteen. How about I meet you in the dining room for breakfast at seven?”
“I’ll be there.”
[ FIVE ]
As he went into his room, after a moment’s indecision, Cronley dropped a matchbook in the doorjamb so it wouldn’t close.
He didn’t know if Rachel would come to his room instead of waiting for him in the bar. He hoped she wouldn’t. But she might. She seemed oblivious to the risks of their getting caught. And he didn’t want her to be seen knocking at his door. By Freddy Hessinger, for example, who might be leaving his down-the-corridor office as she did so.
After thinking about this, too, he laid an Ike jacket with the insignia of captain of Cavalry on the bed before going in the shower. That would enable him
to play the role of the nice captain entertaining the colonel’s lady at dinner in the colonel’s absence. Colonels’ ladies do not fool around with young captains. They just might fool around with CIC special agents.
What stupid games am I playing?
He got as far as the bathroom door before returning to the bed. He put the captain’s jacket back into the closet and tossed the Ike jacket with civilian triangles he had been wearing all day onto the bed.
He was standing naked in front of the sink several minutes later wiping shaving cream from his face when Rachel came in.
“Why do I think you knew I wasn’t going to wait for you in the bar?”
“Because you know I know you take chances you shouldn’t take?”
She walked up to him and put her hand on him and then pulled his face down to hers. She kissed him lewdly for a moment, then pulled away.
“That’s what you’re not going to get,” she said, “because you were flying your damned Russian around all day and not paying attention to me.”
Then she walked out of the bathroom.
He finished wiping the shaving cream off his face and put on his underwear before going back into the bedroom. She was sitting in an armchair, her legs crossed and showing—he was sure intentionally—a good deal of leg.
“Well, are you going to say you’re sorry?” she asked.
“For what?”
“You know for what. I spent all day waiting to just hear from you.”
“What was I supposed to do, Rachel, call your room?”
“Why not?”
“‘Colonel Schumann, this is Cronley. Can I speak with your wife?’ Come on, Rachel.”
“Tony went to Vienna. You knew that.”
“I didn’t.”
“On the phone just now you knew.”
“Hessinger had just told me.”
She considered that.
“I spent all day waiting for you to call.”
“I’m sorry. Frade wanted me to fly him to Frankfurt. I flew him to Frankfurt. I waited for him and the admiral to take off. He took off. I came back here. The defense rests.”
“I believe you,” she said after a moment. “I’m sorry.”
“Not necessary.”
“You want to know how sorry I am?”
“You’re going to slash your wrists?”
“Come here.”
He walked closer to her. She sat forward in the armchair.
“Closer,” she ordered. “I’m sorry I thought you spent all day with that Russian.”
She put her hand to his shorts, pushed them aside, and took him into her mouth.
Some time later, she tucked it back in.
“That’s how sorry I am,” she said. “Forgive me?”
“My God!”
“But that’s all you get now. I spent two hours in the beauty salon making myself pretty for you, and I don’t want to mess my hair. Right away. After dinner is another matter.”
[ SIX ]
“I can’t believe you ate all that,” Rachel said, as he put his knife and fork across the plate that had held a medium-rare porterhouse steak, baked potato, and buttered peas.
“I said all I had to eat all day was a bacon-and-egg sandwich,” he said, then drained what was left of his double Jack Daniel’s rocks.
“I hope you got your strength back, you poor starving boy.”
“That was a very nice steak.”
“And a large one. I had an idea when I was sitting under the dryer in the beauty shop,” she said.
“Why do I think it was lewd?”
“I don’t suppose you could put me in that German airplane of yours and fly me up to your monastery? Just the thought of doing it there feels delightfully lewd.”
“I couldn’t fly you there without a lot of people asking questions.”
“But you can use that Opel Kapitän, right?”
Cronley nodded.
“So you could drive me to your monastery tomorrow?”
When he didn’t reply immediately, she went on: “Everybody knows I stayed here when Tony went to Vienna so I could look into the enlisted men’s welfare facilities. No one would ask questions if I went there. And while I was there, perhaps the commanding officer would show me his quarters. I’d really like to have the commanding officer show me his quarters.”
“Great idea, except that I’m under orders to stay here until I hear from Colonel Frade.”
“Hear from him about what?”
“He didn’t choose to tell me that.”
“Damn.”
“I would be delighted to show you my commanding officer’s quarters in Pullach tomorrow.”
“I really would like to tell Tony that I got into the monastery after you shot up his car to keep him out. We couldn’t make a quick trip early in the morning?”
“Maybe after I hear from Colonel Frade.”
“I suppose that’s better than a flat-out ‘Hell no, Rachel, you can’t go to my monastery.’”
“I’m being charming as I have designs on your body.”
Cronley then had a fresh disturbing thought: Now that I have decided—and really believe—Mrs. Colonel Schumann is really somebody I shouldn’t be fucking, what’s going to happen when we get upstairs? What if I can’t get it up?
X
[ ONE ]
The Dining Room
Hotel Vier Jahreszeiten
Maximilianstrasse 178
Munich, American Zone of Occupation, Germany
0655 4 November 1945
Special Agent Friedrich Hessinger was sitting at a small table in a far corner of the dining room when Cronley walked in.
A waiter followed Cronley to the table and took their order. When he had gone, Hessinger asked, “How did it go with Mrs. Colonel Schumann last night?”
“I bought her dinner and then we went to bed.”
“You weren’t listening when I told you that would be dangerous?”
It took a moment for Cronley to take his meaning.
“Screw you, Freddy.”
“A little joke,” Hessinger said. “But you should watch what you say. You should have said, ‘After dinner she went to her room. And then I went to mine.’”
“Fuck you.”
“You shouldn’t talk to me that way. Officers are not supposed to say unkind things to enlisted men. It hurts our feelings. And then we can go to the inspector general to complain. You know our IG, right? Colonel Schumann?”
Delighted with his own wit, Hessinger was smiling broadly.
“And today what are Mrs. Colonel Schumann’s plans for you?”
“I’ll call her after we eat and see how I can be of service.”
“Do that. We can’t afford to have her pissed at you.”
—
Cronley didn’t think Rachel was pissed at him, but he did suspect that the bloom had begun to come off their roses, so to speak.
After dinner, when they had gone to his room, there had been maybe ten minutes of athletic thrashing about on his bed, followed by maybe sixty seconds of breath-catching. Then Rachel had matter-of-factly announced that she’d better get back to her room, “Tony will probably call.” She had then dressed as quickly as she had undressed and left.
That was probably, he decided, his punishment for his refusal to take her to Kloster Grünau. His reaction to her leaving had been one of relief. Although Ole Willie had answered the call of duty, the cold fact seemed to be that since he now accepted that he really shouldn’t be fucking Rachel, he really didn’t want to.
There were a number of reasons for this, high among them that the late Mrs. James D. Cronley Jr. had startled him by returning to his thoughts while he and Rachel were having dinner. While he didn’t think the Squirt was really riding around on a cloud up
there playing a mournful tune on her harp while looking down at him with tear-filled eyes as he wined, dined, and prepared to fuck a married woman who had two children—he wasn’t completely sure she wasn’t, either.
It had also occurred to him that maybe Rachel had also been thinking of her children, or more accurately, as herself as the mother of two children who should not be fucking a young captain. Maybe, he thought, she had for the first time really considered the consequences of their getting caught.
—
“She wanted me to take the Kapitän and drive her to Kloster Grünau,” Cronley told Hessinger. “She said she would love to be able to tell her husband that she got into the monastery after he couldn’t.”
“Taking her to Kloster Grünau would be even more stupid than taking her to bed. What did you tell her?”
“That I had been ordered to stay in Munich until I heard from Colonel Frade.”
“And she believed you?”
“She didn’t like it, but she believed me.”
“I asked you what do you think she’ll want you to do for her today?”
“Probably take her to the Pullach compound. She wants to see how the Engineers are coming with the service club.”
“A lieutenant and three sergeants from the ASA in Frankfurt were on the Blue Danube last night. Major McClung sent them to install a Collins radio and a SIGABA in the compound. The lieutenant wanted to know where you wanted him to put it. I told him you would let him know.”
“Where did McClung get a SIGABA and a Collins?”
“I guess Colonel Frade brought them with him from Washington.”
“He didn’t say anything to me.”
“Maybe he had other things on his mind. I don’t think you should let Mrs. Colonel Schumann know about the radios when you’re in Pullach.”
“You don’t trust her?”
“She’s a woman. Women like to talk. She gets together with the girls at the CIC/ASA Officers’ Ladies Club. ‘You won’t believe the fancy radio I saw when I was checking on the club in the Pullach compound.’”
“Okay. Point taken, Freddy.”
“I wish she wasn’t going to the Pullach compound at all. But when I asked Major Wallace, he said we don’t want to make Colonel Schumann unhappy, which he would be if Mrs. Colonel Schumann was unhappy because she couldn’t go to the compound.”
Top Secret Page 31
