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“Say hello to Cezar Zielinski,” Cronley said, and then when he saw he had the attention of the others, went on, “who after he escaped from the displaced persons camp in Würzburg made a lot of money in the Munich black market, and loves both a friendly game of vingt-et-un and the ladies who gather around the table.”

“That just might work,” Holzknecht said.

“Cezar?” Cronley asked.

“I’d need money. Lots of money. Preferably U.S. dollars.”

“Five thousand?” Niedermeyer asked. “Ten?”

“Ten would be better than five.”

“I have it back at the Bristol,” Niedermeyer said.

Which you brought with you in case you need it to get your wife out of Budapest, Cronley thought. So what are you going to do if you do need it?

“Otto, as soon as I can get on the phone,” Cronley said, “I’ll have some cash sent down from Kloster Grünau. There’s probably time to get someone on the Blue Danube.”

“Thank you,” Niedermeyer said simply.

“You’ve got that kind of money?” Wasserman asked.

Cronley nodded.

“The DCI finally coughed up what I provided to pay Seven-K. I’m hiding it under the chapel at Kloster Grünau.”

“So we start this operation as soon as possible,” Holzknecht said. “Which means who’s going to be in charge?”

“You are,” Wangermann said, and then corrected himself. “We are. With the support of our American friends.”

“Agreed, with thanks,” Wasserman said.

“The—what did our young friend call him? ‘that jämmerlich Missgeburt’?—is an Austrian. So it’s only fair that we Austrians catch him, and then let the Americans hang him. So here’s what I think we should do—”

“What we should do first,” Holzknecht interrupted him, “is have a chat with the chap who owns the Heuriger Oscar.”

“That’s the one across the street from 71?” Wasserman asked.

Holzknecht didn’t reply directly, instead saying, “During which I will tell him to tell all his friends that he has decided to renovate Heuriger Oscar and that the renovation will start tomorrow morning. Early tomorrow morning, a small army of renovators will appear . . .”

“Some of whom will be your guys,” Cronley said.

“. . . who will have with them one of Wasserman’s people, each with one of those marvelous U.S. Army radios.”

“Done,” Wasserman said.

“The radio in Heuriger Oscar will serve Operation Headquarters. There will be radios here in the Restaurant Cobenzl and in a van parked innocuously near the Grinzing streetcar turnaround. Radio Heuriger Oscar will report anyone leaving 71 Cobenzlgasse either on foot or by car or motorcycle, and whether they are going up Cobenzlgasse or toward the trolley turnaround. In either event, persons of interest will be trailed.

“To do that effectively, we will need motorcycles, bicycles, and unmarked cars. I can provide motorcycles and bicycles, but . . .”

“Tell me how many cars you need, and where you want them,” Wasserman said.

“Six?”

“Done.”

“I think two here, and the rest at the trolley turnaround. Will they have radios?”

“Yes,” Wasserman said.