Page 103

Christ, he’s reading my mind!

“Seidel doesn’t give a damn about Mattingly, but if he can prove—even credibly allege—to Bull and ultimately McNarney that Gehlen is responsible for his disappearance—better yet, from his standpoint, his murder—”

“McNarney gets on the phone to the admiral and very politely suggests that since the very young and very junior officer who is chief, DCI-Europe, obviously can’t keep the murderous Nazi General Gehlen under control, perhaps it would be the time to—at least temporarily—replace him with someone wiser, older, and senior?”

“Or, more likely,” Wallace said, “to put DCI-Europe temporarily under the guidance of someone wiser, older, and more senior, like Major General Bruce T. Seidel. Just until the present situation is rectified. I think that’s what they call getting the camel’s nose under the tent flap.”

“So, what do we do?” Cronley said.

“The obvious solution is to find out who grabbed—or assassinated—Bob Mattingly, said villain having nothing to do with Generalmajor Reinhard Gehlen.”

But what if Gehlen is responsible?

Has Gehlen been playing me as Rachel Schumann played me?

And why am I unwilling to tell Wallace that I think—am sure—Gehlen was responsible for whacking the Schumanns and that it’s entirely possible that he had Derwin pushed under the freight train?

Several reasons. Maybe the most important one is that if I do, he will quite reasonably decide I should have told him long before this and be really pissed. More important than his being pissed is that he could reasonably decide that Seidel is right.

Why do I trust Gehlen?

Because I’m arrogantly sure—despite my youth, inexperience, and all-around proven stupidity—that I can tell whether or not the German general who successfully matches wits with the entire fucking NKGB—and was smart enough to stay out of the hands of the SS when he was up to his ears in the plans to whack Adolf Hitler—is playing me at least as skillfully as Rachel played me?

Or because he saved my ass?

If he hadn’t talked me out of going to Frankfurt and shooting Rachel and her husband, and then going to Mattingly and telling him why I had, I would now be under suicide watch in the USFET stockade awaiting my general court-martial for a double murder.

Seidel and the FBI are looking for the wrong suspect in who whacked the Schumanns. They should be looking at me. Getting out of Gehlen’s way was just about the same thing as me shooting them. I knew what was going to happen to them, and since I got out of Gehlen’s way, I’m just as responsible for what happened as Gehlen is.

“That glazed look in your eyes suggests you’re thinking,” Wallace said. “What about?”

Okay, here’s where I confess all.

“Well?” Wallace pursued.

“I’ve been wondering whether I can get back to Kloster Grünau before it’ll be too dark to land. I’d really like to get there today.”

“Why?”

“Just before you called me, I gave the NKGB guy who’s supposed to be dead the photos of Likharev and family in Buenos Aires. He’s had time to think that over. Unless you’ve got a better idea, that seems to me the best place to start.”

Wallace grunted.

“And then I’ll see if my cousin Luther has tried to corrupt Sergeant Finney and see where that may lead us. Or maybe PFC Wagner will have infiltrated Odessa at the Stars and Stripes plant, and that will solve all our problems.”

Wallace didn’t reply.

“It’s not much, is it?” Cronley said.

“No.”

“But I don’t see any point in hanging around here. Augie Ziegler and Hammersmith can find out what they can about Mattingly without my expert help.”

“You go with what you have,” Wallace said.

He put out his hand.

“Maybe, Jim, if you leave the side window in your airplane open, it will help with the smell.”