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Hughes relieved Fischer of the bottle of whiskey and the glasses and began to pour.

“You are going to tell us where you got the MP uniform? And the major’s leaf?” Frade asked.

“At Fort Myer,” Fischer said. “Early this morning. Two guys from the OSS showed up at Vint Hill Farms with a letter of instructions and the photographs we took of the Froggers at Casa Chica—”

“Where?” Hughes interrupted.

“Casa Chica,” Frade explained, “a small estancia where we’ve stashed the Froggers.” He turned to Fischer and asked, “What instructions?”

“The letter said I was to go to Camp Clinton, as an MP major, give the photographs to Colonel Frogger, say nothing, answer no questions, and wait for him there.”

“You’ve seen Frogger?” Clete asked.

Fischer nodded. Hughes handed him a drink.

“What’s he like?”

“More like his father than his mother. Smaller than I expected him to be. Anyway, they took me to the MP battalion at Fort Myer, got me suited up like this, and then took me to Bolling Air Force Base, loaded me on a B-26—that was an experience—and flew me down here.

“A light colonel from Camp Clinton met me, and took me out there, and put me together with Frogger. They had him in a room in a small wooden building. He had a duffel bag with him.”

“And?” Clete asked.

“I did what Colonel Graham’s letter said to do. I walked in and saluted, and said, in German, ‘Colonel Frogger, I have been instructed to give you these photographs, ’ and gave them to him. They shook him up, obviously, and he asked what was going on. I told him he would be informed in good time, saluted him again, and left. And waited for Colonel Graham to show up.”

“You think he recognized you in the pictures?” Clete said. “You were in civvies.”

Fischer shrugged, then took a close look at Hughes.

“You’re Howard Hughes,” he said.

“Yeah, I know,” Hughes said.

“The pilot, the movie guy,” Fischer went on.

“Right again, Len,” Frade said. “You have just won the cement bicycle for celebrity spotting. Give him your autograph, Howard.”

Hughes gave Frade the finger.

“What are you doing here?” Fischer asked.

“The same thing you are, pal,” Hughes said. “Waiting for Graham to tell me what to do.”

“Welcome to the OSS, Len,” Frade said.

“You’re in the OSS?” Fischer asked Hughes.

“Sometimes it feels that way, but, technically, no.”

“And I am?” Fischer asked.

“I don’t know if you are, technically,” Frade said. “But if I had to bet, I’d say you are.”

“I’m out of Vint Hill Farms? Out of the ASA?”

“I think when this is over,” Frade said, “Graham will send you back there. You’re very useful there. Unless something unexpected comes up, of course, and something unexpected will probably come up.”

“So what happens now?” Fischer asked.