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“This is the highway, General, Route B38, which runs from Bad Bergzabern through Oberotterbach to Wissembourg,” McMullen said, pointing it out with a pencil. “We think Heimstadter and Müller will attempt to get themselves on the truck here, somewhere along the five-kilometer stretch between Oberotterbach and Wissembourg.”

“Why there?” White asked.

“It’s woods most of the way on the north side of the road,” Wagner answered for him. “We figure these guys will either have spent the night in Oberotterbach or maybe be driven there in the wee hours. If they’ve been in Oberotterbach, they’ll sneak out of wherever they’ve been in the dark and walk far enough down the road so they can’t be seen and then duck into the woods and wait for the Stripes truck.

“Or, whoever—somebody from Odessa—has driven them from wherever they’ve been will drive through Oberotterbach and down the road far enough not to be seen when they drop these two guys off.”

White considered that for a moment.

“It would be nice,” he said, “if, in the latter case Wagner suggests, we could lay our hands on whoever drove these people from wherever they were.”

“Sir, we considered that possibility in planning Operation Bag the Bastards,” McMullen said.

“Tell me.”

“We’re going to hide six four-man teams of men in jeeps in the woods along this stretch of road, beginning here, near Oberotterbach. Between them, they can surveil the entire stretch of road. Each team will be in sight of the team on either side of it, and they will be radio-equipped. And they will be armed with Thompsons, Garands, and pistols.”

He pointed with his pencil at the map where the jeep teams would be stationed.

“The first thing they will look for is any vehicle that comes out of Oberotterbach headed for Wissembourg and then turns around and heads back toward Oberotterbach. The occupants of that vehicle will be detained.

“The next thing they will look for is the Stars and Stripes truck. They will keep it under observation until it stops, and goes through the unloading/reloading process Wagner described. It will be allowed to proceed for a kilometer or so, and then it will be stopped by one or more of the jeep teams.

“When the newspapers have been unloaded and former SS-Brigadeführer Ulrich Heimstadter and his former deputy Standartenführer Oskar Müller have been removed from their cave, they will be trussed up like Christmas turkeys and loaded aboard Storch aircraft, which will have landed while the foregoing was going on, and flown to Kloster Grünau, where, Cronley tells me, there are sufficient cells, once used by monks, in which they can be conveniently incarcerated.”

McMullen and the others waited thirty seconds for General White’s reaction.

It was not what they expected.

“Dick, maybe Cronley can be excused, but you should know better. This is not Leavenworth and the Command and General Staff School where you can stand around a sand table and play war games for a couple of hours and then head for the O Club for a couple of martinis. Grabbing these bastards is for real, and it’s pretty goddamned important.”

McMullen’s ruddy face whitened.

“Would the general be kind enough to show me where I went wrong?” he asked in a very soft voice.

“I was about to do that, Colonel. You didn’t have to ask. Let’s start with these six four-man teams who are going to be responsible for carrying out this complex plan of yours. Where, knowing as you should that the average Constabulary trooper is eighteen-point-something years old, and has been in the Army less than a year, are you going to get them? And how do you plan to adequately train them to have any chance of accomplishing this complex operation you’re asking them to do in the time we have available?”

“General . . .” Cronley began.

“My questions were directed at Colonel McMullen, Captain Cronley,” White said coldly.

“With all respect, sir,” Cronley said. “This is my—the DCI’s—operation, not the Constabulary’s. Any questions about it should be directed to me.”

Thirty seconds later, Cronley thought, To judge by the look in his eyes, I am going to die a painful death right here and right now.

“Would you be kind enough, Mr. Cronley, to answer the questions I posed to Colonel McMullen?” White asked.

“Yes, sir. No reflection on the Constabulary, sir, but I thought it would be better to use Tiny’s Troopers for this operation. The only things I need from the Constabulary are the jeeps, someone to drive them, and the radios. I don’t have such equipment, and I don’t have the time to try to get it.”

“And the training? How are you going to arrange that in the limited time we have?”

“Colonel Wilson and Honest Abe Tedworth are in the process of doing that now at Kloster Grünau, sir.”

“Who the hell is Honest Abe Whatever you said?” White demanded angrily.

He’s pissed because I was right, and I’m a captain, and he’s a two-star general, and he knows he was wrong to jump on McMullen.

“First Sergeant Abraham Lincoln Tedworth of Company C, 203rd Tank Destroyer Battalion, sir. DCI’s security force. Company C is on detached service from the Constabulary and wear Constabulary insignia.”