Page 173

“Jesus Christ, now what?” Cronley said.

“The NKGB apparently saw you come out of the broom closet,” Spurgeon said, as he walked to the door and put his back to the wall beside it.

“If I had one of those, I could probably be of some assistance,” Zielinski said.

Cronley took his pistol from its holster and tossed it to Zielinski, who immediately saw that the hammer was cocked and locked.

“A round in the chamber? Jesus Christ! You are dangerous!” he said, then took up a position behind one of the armchairs.

“Now, Charley,” Cronley ordered.

Tom Winters came through the open door.

He raised his arms above his head and said, “I surrender.”

“You’re supposed to be in the Compound sitting on Rachel,” Cronley said.

“General Gehlen is sitting on Rachel. She’s safe. But I didn’t think Gehlen could protect me from Colonel Wallace.”

“Wallace knows about Rachel?”

“He had a guy at the Compound airstrip. He showed up in Gehlen’s quarters about three minutes after I got there with Rachel. The shit immediately thereafter began to strike the blades of the fan.”

“Go on.”

“Wallace wanted to take Rachel. Gehlen wouldn’t give her up. Wallace is sputtering. For a moment, I thought . . . I don’t know. Anyway, they got on the SIGABA to Mr. Schultz, and Wallace unloaded on him. Schultz said (a) Gehlen was to protect Rachel, and (b) he thought he had best come to Germany to see what the hell was going on.”

“Schultz is coming to Germany?”

“Arriving sometime tomorrow.”

“Jesus!”

“And he asked where you were. Wallace said he didn’t know, which was embarrassing. Wallace then called Nuremberg and they said they didn’t know where you were. He then asked me if I knew where you were, and I said, ‘Probably in Vienna,’ and when I truthfully said I did not know where in Vienna you were, said answer did not satisfy him.

“After saying ‘We’ll see how General Seidel feels about this debacle,’ or words to that effect, he stormed out of Gehlen’s quarters. I then went out the back door of Gehlen’s quarters, got on the general’s bicycle, and pedaled to the airstrip, where they had just finished refueling the Storch. And here I am. What’s going on?”

“Cezar,” Cronley said, “I’m afraid to ask this question. Do you know where von Dietelburg is?”

“Not at the moment, but I’m fairly sure he’ll be at the Viktoria Palast at, say, nine o’clock.”

“You’ve seen him?”

Zielinski nodded.

“And you didn’t tell Wasserman or Wangermann?”

“No. And I thought I’d better explain why in person. That’s why I sent that letter . . . by ordinary mail.”

Cronley made a Let’s have it gesture with his hands.

“Okay. Von Dietelburg has been hiding in plain sight right under our—and more important, Wangermann’s and Holzknecht’s—noses. He’s Olga Reithoffer’s brother, Alois, the used-car dealer.”

“Jesus! You’re sure?”

Zielinski nodded.

“The first night, I lost a little over five thousand of your dollars and met Colonel Gus Genetti, his friend Alois Reithoffer, and Inge—I never learned her last name. Inge cost you three hundred of your dollars, but she was worth every penny. Not only was she a skilled practitioner of her chosen profe